“You came all the way over here just to check up on me? That’s very sweet of you, Detective, but as you can see,” Lucifer said, gesturing expansively down at himself, “everything is completely fine.” He half expected her to blush and avert her eyes or at least make some kind of prudish comment regarding the erection tenting his silk robe, but instead Detective Decker was looking at him with a worried – one might almost say alarmed – sort of expression.
Quite unnecessarily, obviously, but Lucifer found that her evident caring gave him a odd, taut feeling in his chest. He wasn’t sure he liked it. It made him want to wrap his arms around her and hold on tight. Not even as a prelude to sex or as an excuse to feel her warm curves pressed against him, but just to try to make her feel better – even to comfort her. Which, considering how rampantly horny he was currently feeling, was not only confusing but a Dad-damn miracle. “I’m quite all right, Detective, I assure you,” he said, resisting the urge, because she would no doubt misinterpret it, particularly at the moment.
“You’re not all right, Lucifer,” Detective Decker argued earnestly, staring up at him with her big grey eyes. “You’ve been drugged with a concentrated dose of the main chemicals used to make Viagra.”
“I am feeling rather priapismic today,” he mused. “I put it down to the 12 pounds of oysters and the Bikram Yoga instructor I’ve been having… lessons from.”
Said Bikram Yoga instructor chose that moment to emerge from the bathroom, fresh from the shower, damp, glowing and casually naked, smiling coyly at Lucifer. His eyes slid to the Detective’s figure and his eyebrows rose, his smile turning speculative. Lucifer glanced at the Detective to check out her reaction to Sanji’s appearance, because it was undoubtedly going to be priceless, and then blinked, arrested, because the Detective was distracted, but not by Sanji. She was looking at him, her chin and eyes determinedly raised as she attempted to keep her eyes on his face, her face flushed endearingly pink from the helpless glances she kept trying not to dart at his groin. It was, of course, a totally normal reaction from any other human, but given the Detective’s usual unaccountable immunity to his divine charm….
The urge to pick both Detective Decker and Sanji up and throw them on the bed and ravish them utterly swept over him and he actually took a step forward before he recalled that the Detective’s reaction would very likely be extremely negative and possibly very painful for him.
“Are you sure you haven’t ingested some yourself, Detective?” Lucifer purred. “You seem a little flushed.”
“I hope not,” the Detective said, an adorable little crease forming between her brows as she frowned. “Dan brought me a bottle of water this morning. It’s possible it was from the vending machine with the spiked shipment, but since he, like half the precinct, is currently isolated for everyone’s safety while they receive medical treatment, it’ll be a while before I can ask him.”
“Yes, I do remember that,” Lucifer said. She’d only drunk about two thirds of her bottle before Lucifer had swiped it because he’d still been thirsty after he’d finished his own bottle of water that he had definitely acquired from the vending machine in question. Plus he liked the idea of putting his lips to something phallic the Detective’s own lips had touched. It gave him all sorts of lovely ideas. “Still, you seem to be able to resist the urge to rip my clothes off and have your wicked way with me, sadly, so you can’t have received much of a dose.”
The Detective’s eyebrows rose and she did that little head wiggle gesture that Lucifer couldn’t help finding ridiculously charming. “Let’s hope not,” she said. “We’ve already had to recruit officers from other precincts to maintain basic response capability.”
While she was talking, her eyes wandered over Lucifer’s exposed chest and drifted downwards. Lucifer felt himself preening automatically, putting his shoulders back in a quite primal display, really, as she bit her lip. Lucifer noticed gleefully that her forehead was beaded with sweat.
“My eyes are up here, Detective,” he said primly, and smiled wickedly as she startled, her eyes flying up to meet his, guilt and dawning horror in hers. “Not so unaffected after all, I presume?”
“Oh, God,” Detective Decker moaned.
Lucifer stopped smiling. “I don’t think we need to bring Him into it, do you? I mean, take it from me – if you will – but three-ways are not his thing. In fact–”
“–I should get back,” the Detective said. Her eyes drifted over him again, the heat in them unmistakable.
“What, so they can lock you up and medicate you like the others? That doesn’t sound very… comfortable to me.”
Detective Decker’s eyes flickered past him and widened. Lucifer turned to see that Sanji had returned to the rumpled bed and was reclining against the pillows, gently palming his very nice, very hard cock, regarding them both with interest. He looked delicious and from the increased respiration from the Detective, she clearly agreed with him.
“You’re welcome to join us,” Lucifer offered, gesturing towards the bed. “Sanji is extremely flexible… in more ways than one,” he added slyly.
“What? No!” the Detective said, and took two steps backwards towards the lift.
Lucifer could smell the arousal on her now. Not to doubt the Detective’s really quite remarkable powers of self-control – she had somehow managed to resist him all this time, after all – but given her description of the effects of the chemical on the other officers, he very much doubted that she’d make it back to the station without succumbing.
And. Well. She’d never forgive herself if she had sex with some random stranger. She’d believe she’d forced herself on them — as if anyone wouldn’t be more than happy to accommodate her, any day, any time at all. She’d go and feel needlessly guilty over the whole thing.
No, best she stay here and have sex with him. He was prepared to make that sacrifice.
Now, to convince her.
Although, at this rate she might not need that much convincing. She was moving towards the bed and Sanji was sitting up, arms stretching out to welcome her.
“No,” Lucifer found himself saying, because, suddenly, unaccountably, the thought of Sanji touching the Detective — the two of them making the beast with two backs — was unacceptable. Lucifer was by the bed, helping a startled Sanji up with a firm grasp of his arm, before he knew he was going to do it. He gathered up Sanji’s sweater and jeans and flip flops and pushed them at his chest as he encouraged the confused man towards the lift, steadying him as he started to overbalance stumbling backwards. “Terribly sorry, darling,” Lucifer said, smiling his most charming smile and watching Sanji smile helplessly in response. “I’m afraid the Detective is not the sharing type, and needs must and all that. I’m sure you understand.”
The lift door closed and they were alone. “That’s better,” Lucifer announced, as he turned, “Now we can…”
The Detective was lying back against the pillows, staring at him with dark, heavy lidded eyes. She’d already dispensed with her outer garments, now lying in a tangled heap on the floor, and was managing to make a rather plain pale pink bra with minimal lace edging and cotton briefs look much more alluring than they had any right to be. One of the Detective’s hands was sliding slowly along her belly, leaving no doubt as to its final destination, and Lucifer found his mouth uncharacteristically dry as he sat down on the bed beside her, clenching his hands to stop himself reaching out, taking over.
“Mmm, Lucifer,” the Detective murmured.
Damn it. Apparently she wasn’t going to need convincing. Which probably meant she wasn’t in her right mind. “This is disappointingly reminiscent of the last time you threw yourself at me,” he sighed.
“I’m not drunk!”
“No, you’re roofied.”
“So are you, so it’s okay.”
“Is it, though?”
She was reaching for him. He knew he should stop her, but his hands refused to move. He watched, riveted, as her hand slid under the folds of his robe. He felt her fingers wrap around his cock and his breath caught. Her eyes held his as she started to jerk him. Lucifer groaned and fell forward over her, holding himself up with arms gone suddenly shaky, dazed by the reaction of his body to what was, after all, a simple hand job. He pressed kisses to her collarbone, her throat, breathed into the shell of her ear, sucked the lobe into his mouth and bit down gently.
“Mmm, Lucifer,” the Detective said again. Just the way she murmured his name sent more blood rushing to his groin. What was it about this human? She was attractive, of course, but she was no Cleopatra or Helen of Troy, for Dad’s sake. There were a thousand women in LA more objectively beautiful than her.
All right, maybe a hundred… He should know: he’d slept with most of them. But none of them stirred him the way Detective Decker did. None of them left him torn between savage passion and gentle tenderness. He didn’t know which he wanted more: an obscenely athletic round of hard fucking against the nearest wall, or to cradle her tenderly in his arms and hold her for as long as she needed or wanted.
The thought crossed his mind that it was, possibly, simply the effects of the drug making him feel like this, and he latched onto the thought with a feeling of relief, because this strange, vulnerable feeling was, frankly, terrifying.
But he couldn’t delude himself. He’d felt like this before she’d ever found her way into his bed.
Her eyes blinked open, clouded, dreamy, and she looked up at him. “Lucifer?”
“Chloe,” she murmured, running gentle fingers over the head of his cock.
“Chloe,” Lucifer acknowledged, and winced at the tenderness he could hear in his own voice.
“Why’d you stop?”
“No – no reason,” Lucifer mumbled against her throat, nipping gently, just hard enough to leave his mark. Detective Decker — Chloe — arched against him, keening almost soundlessly.
She was shifting her hips restlessly now, straining towards him, pulling his cock at the same time, angling it so that it pushed against her cleft, the thin cotton of her damp panties the only barrier between them now.
“Fuck me,” she whispered. “I need it.”
“You do, don’t you,” Lucifer marvelled, looking down at her flushed face, at the way her head shifted restlessly on the pillow, her unfocussed eyes, and wished, with all the power that’d he once had at his command, that she was there of her own free will.
Exercising an absolutely divine level of self-control, Lucifer prised Chloe’s hand from his cock and rolled off her, staring at the ceiling as he drew in great gulps of air. Chloe moaned, reaching for him and Lucifer took hold of her wrists, careful not to clasp the delicate bones too firmly.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this again,” he said, feeling justifiably martyred, holding her effortlessly away from him as she struggled to pull her hands free. She strained towards him, the musk of her arousal filling his nostrils, her nipples gorgeously erect through the material of her bra, begging him to take them in his mouth, suck them till she came from that alone. “Chloe. Listen. You don’t really want this.”
“I do. I want you to fuck me.”
“It’s the drug talking, not you.”
“I know,” she said unexpectedly, looking at him, her eyes no longer so unfocused. She’d stopped trying to get to him so he cautiously released her. “But it’s just sex, and if it’s a choice between being locked up in hospital and pumped full of more drugs or having sex with you,” she said, flexing her freed wrists, “I’d rather you.”
“As flattering as that isn’t, Detective, I wish I could believe you.” Lucifer’s hands were starting to shake with the urge to take her at her word, to roll on top of her, to rip off those ridiculous knickers and fuck her and fuck her and fuck her until neither of them could get it up anymore.
“Seriously?” she said, sounding exasperated. “You’ve been trying to get me to sleep with you since the day we met. Now’s your chance.”
“If it’s just sex, I’ll have Maze go retrieve your ex-Douche for you.”
“I don’t want him.”
“I don’t blame you,” Lucifer said. “But at some point in the past, perhaps also under the influence of something judgement impairing, you fancied him. Surely he’ll do in a pinch.”
“I. Don’t. Want. Dan,” Chloe said, through gritted teeth. Her eyes blazed. “I want you.”
Well, that was something, at least. “Believe me, the feeling’s mutual,” Lucifer assured her fervently, because he was so hard it was nearly painful, and not in a good way. The urge to plunge into her very willing – very willing indeed – body was getting harder to resist. It was ironic — here he was, the king of temptation, getting to experience it from the other side. But this urge wasn’t divinely inspired. It wasn’t fun to have one’s control taken away. At least when he tempted people they succumbed because they wanted to — because they were weak, or venal or morally bankrupt – but that wasn’t his fault. He was simply the snake bearing the apple.
The Detective – Chloe – was desperate now, little whimpers escaping her as her hips moved. She’d be embarrassed about this later, if she remembered it. He hoped, for her sake, that this was the sort of intoxicant that left one’s memory pleasantly blurred.
“New plan,” Lucifer announced. “A spot of simultaneous spank the monkey will likely do the trick. You may certainly watch me, if you like, and I will close my eyes and not perv on you at all. Scouts’ honour,” he smirked, sketching the three-fingered salute.
Chloe stared at him, eyes wide, for a long moment and then gave a shaky nod. Lucifer took that as agreement and slid off the bed. He shrugged out of his robe and pulled his leather armchair up to the end of the bed. He settled himself comfortably, legs apart, one foot propped on the mattress, giving Chloe the best angle from which to appreciate the view.
Resisting the temptation to suggest she make herself equally comfortable, Lucifer closed his eyes and took himself in hand. He didn’t last long, but he wasn’t trying to — it was best to get the effects of the drug out of his system as soon as possible. He wasn’t surprised to find himself hard again almost instantly: if Sanji’s efforts hadn’t done him in, listening to Chloe’s gasps and moans certainly wasn’t going to do it, delectable as they were.
This was some powerful stuff the humans were coming up with these days if his angelic form could be affected, even as relatively depowered as he was. Either that or he really was becoming a Real Boy. He brought himself off twice more, the third time hard enough that his whole body shook, and for a few long shuddery moments he thought maybe that was it. And then over on the bed he heard Chloe gasping through yet another orgasm. He’d lost count of hers somewhere along the way, and his cock stirred again at the sound of her, at the thought of her, at the scent of her, so close, in his bed, untouchable.
Right, this called for drastic measures. “Don’t mind me,” he said, and made his way over to the drawer where he kept his toys. He chose a nice, standard sized vibrator, nothing fancy today, and after a moment of indecision, a packet of lube, because his own personal Kryptonite was only three feet away. He turned, closing his eyes again as he made his way back to his chair.
He heard the Detective gasp. “Is that…” Her voice was raspy.
“Of course, where are my manners?” Lucifer said, chagrined. “Would you like one?” He waved at the drawer. “Help yourself.”
“You’re going to use that on yourself?”
“You… like that?”
“Mmm.” Lucifer scooched down in the chair as he ripped open the packet. He propped one leg over the arm of the chair and slid three lubed fingers into his arse, gasping at the stretch. He’d never bothered to do this for himself before, and he was starting to appreciate why his human partners preferred some prep before they accommodated him.
The effects of the drug were clearly back because he was desperate for it, to fuck or be fucked — it was all the same now, and he fumbled to get lube onto the vibrator. He reached down, positioning it at his hole, all his focus narrowed down to the push of the head against his sphincter.
A hand closed over the top of his, stopping him and his eyes flew open in shock to see Chloe, completely naked now, flushed and sweaty and quite possibly the hottest thing he had ever seen in his entire immortal life, crouching before him, her eyes fixed on the cyberskin cock just starting to breach him.
“Please,” Lucifer said, and he didn’t know whether he was begging her to stop or to go on. She wasn’t supposed to be there — there were good reasons that he couldn’t quite remember at the moment — she’d hate him later and he didn’t think he could bear that. “Detective,” he said, his voice cracking.
“Lucifer,” Chloe murmured and Lucifer let his hand slide away from under hers, ceding control to her. He grabbed the arms of the chair with both hands so tightly the leather tore under his fingertips.
Since apparently all bets were off now, he let his eyes rest on Chloe as she gripped the vibrator. Her eyes were intent on the device entering his body as she pushed. Lucifer couldn’t help the groan that escaped him at the sensation of being breached, of being filled, of being possessed by the woman he loved. He couldn’t deny it to himself anymore, not now, and at his groan Chloe’s eyes flew up to meet his, black with need, and remained fixed on him as she slowly pushed the device in to the hilt.
Lucifer’s own cock was leaking. He thought if Chloe only touched it he would come again, but he couldn’t ask — this wasn’t about him. And then, still watching him intently, she flicked the device on. It was the lowest setting but even that amount of stimulation against his prostate was too much and he orgasmed, waves of sensation spreading throughout his body, rendering him blissfully light headed. Even his extremities were tingling. When the sensation finally subsided enough that he could prise his eyes open, he saw Chloe had her other hand between her legs, stimulating herself, climaxing with a cry even as he watched. He had to grip the arms of the chair firmly to stop himself reaching out, just to feel, just to touch. She raised her head, panting, and flicked the switch up a setting and Lucifer was gone again. He was floating, but so alone. He couldn’t help letting go of the chair, reaching out blindly and when his hand was taken he clutched hers gratefully. Chloe was there with him, he knew. When she tugged him towards her he lurched forward and they tumbled onto the bed together, holding each other tightly.
He must have blacked out for a while. Another new experience he should probably be more alarmed about, if only he could summon the energy. He felt good, his mind clear. He was surprisingly tired and shagged out, but his arse felt fine. She must have got rid of the device while he was out of it, and it was a relief, mostly, that it was all over, except for how Chloe would never want to do it again. She might even hate him a bit and not even want him to be her partner anymore. He wasn’t sure he could bear that. Grief caught at his throat and stung his eyes. He rolled onto his back and put his arm over his face, as if that could block out reality. “Bloody, bloody hell.”
“Lucifer…” It was a breath but Lucifer scrambled upright, his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest because Chloe was still there. He experienced a moment of incredulous joy because she hadn’t left him after all. Then he took in her cross-legged position on the bed, her nakedness and the mussed hair falling over her face as she stared something she was holding in her lap and reality was a bitch because clearly Chloe was still in the grip of the drug. He shouldn’t have been surprised: she was only human. It had been ridiculous to hope — he was ridiculous.
It was a bitter pill to swallow, but Chloe needed him. Lucifer squared his shoulders. “What have you got there, love?” he asked gently, sitting down beside her. “Something nice for me?”
Chloe looked up at him, and whatever he had expected, it wasn’t the evil grin that played around her lips, or the mischief written across her face. He thought he could still detect traces of the drug’s effect in the fever that still burned in her eyes, but her gaze was direct and clear. She was his Chloe again, and the relief that flooded through him actually made him weak at the knees for a moment, so that he sat down rather abruptly beside her. Teasingly, she held up the strap on she’d been hiding in her lap, a red leather contraption with a rather dauntingly sized attachment. It was nothing he hadn’t taken before, of course, but then he’d been invulnerable. Still, he wasn’t one to discourage initiative.
“How would you like me?” he drawled, waggling his eyebrows lasciviously.
“Really?” Chloe’s eyes widened. She’d clearly just meant to tease him, but by the way her pupils expanded as she stared at him, and the increasing musk of her, she’d discovered a nice little kink.
He was all in favour of that. “Doggie style? Bent over the bed or another conveniently sized piece of furniture? On my back so you can twist my nipples at the same time? Dealer’s choice.”
“I don’t… I think… whatever you want.”
Whatever he wanted. Where to start? He wanted to watch Chloe, possibly forever. He wanted… well. Priorities. He stretched out on the bed and reached for the nearest pillow. “Grab the lube, love,” he said, as he positioned it under his hips and raised his knees, letting them fall to the side, exposing himself to her, inviting her in. “And make sure you use plenty, mmkay?”
He crossed his arms behind his head and watched her get out a bottle of lube, rather than one of the assorted single use convenience packets. Good girl. She squeezed a copious amount of the gel onto her fingers, and then, an expression on her face he could only describe as gobsmacked, slid three fingers directly into him, and twisted, working him open again. She’d obviously been paying attention earlier — well, she was a trained police officer — and then Lucifer’s breath caught because she was reaching for the lube again. She was coating her entire hand. Lucifer pulled his knees back towards his chest, not quite believing that his Detective was really going to do this. But then she was pushing in, her eyes fixed on him, watching his reaction, unrelenting, and Lucifer lost his breath completely and just stared blindly up at the ceiling. It was overwhelming — the sensation of fullness, the stretch, even the pain was welcome.
That was the last coherent thought he had for a while because she twisted her hand and he came, wiping out all thought. He was still floating when he became aware that she was kneeling over him now, buckling on the strap on. It looked even larger from this perspective and all he could do was hang on as she positioned herself at his arse. He was thankful now for the earlier stretch because he was able to take her as she thrust into him, over and over, her gorgeous breasts dangling tantalizingly before his dazed eyes. He wanted to reach out but his fists were clenched in the sheets now, and all he could do was hang on, as Chloe made him come and come, his whole body suspended in a state of bliss, hers to command.
Lucifer opened his eyes and stretched. His body felt used. In a good way. That expression about having been ridden hard and put away wet — he’d never really appreciated it until now. Also, he was starving. Of course, it was nothing a couple of pounds of bacon, a dozen eggs and half a bottle of really good champagne couldn’t fix.
“Are you okay?” Chloe was perched on the chair, his robe wrapped somewhat haphazardly around her. Lucifer wondered how long she’d been sitting there, regarding him. He sat up and reached for his cigarettes. He tapped one out of the packet for himself and then, considerately — it being the morning after and all that — offered one to Chloe. Her nose wrinkled adorably in distaste and she waved dismissively.
“No?” Lucifer drew in a deep, comfortable lungful and considered his various aches and, not to put too fine a point on it, the pain in his arse. It must be another side effect of the Detective’s mortal-ifying effect on him that it hadn’t even occurred to him to consider. That certainly presented a whole new intriguing range of possibilities to sex… if he could convince Chloe, of course.
“Yes, yes, keep your knickers on,” he said, and took another drag on his cigarette. “Oh, you are,” he noticed regretfully. “Not much chance of another go, then? No, apparently we’ve regained our senses.” He sighed regretfully.
“How can you ask… How can you want… after what I did to you?”
“Mmm, do it again?”
“This is serious. How can you make a joke of it? Wait, you’re Lucifer Morningstar — everything’s a joke to you. Even me taking advantage of you like that last night.”
“I can assure you, Detective, that any advantage-taking was very, very mutual.”
“You couldn’t say no.”
“I didn’t want to say no. You’re the one who’s been stubbornly standing in the way of all this spectacular and debauched sex we could have been having all this time.”
“Oh, no, please don’t tell me you’re going to flagellate yourself over this. Of course you are...” Lucifer ground out his butt in the ashtray and got up. Chloe’s eyes dropped to his morning glory and then shot up to his face and fixed there, her chin raised against the flush that stained her cheekbones. He could smell her arousal again as well as the very intriguing fact that she hadn’t yet showered. That was promising: that she hadn’t felt compelled to scrub the evidence of their lovemaking from her existence.
“I remember you saying no a lot."
“Because I knew you would regret it. Clearly I was right. Once it became obvious that getting our ends away was non-negotiable, it was me or some random stranger. You do remember rejecting my offer to acquire Dan for you, don’t you?” he said, not trying to hide his glee at that.
“You sacrificed yourself—“
“Enough! I do understand your very human desire to torture yourself over things for no good reason, but, once and for all: you did not force me to do anything that I wouldn’t be completely willing for you to do to me any time, any day, every day.”
Chloe’s eyes darted to the end of the bed, where the strap-on she’d worn had ended up, the red leather harness and attachment conspicuously obvious against his ivory-coloured satin sheets.
“You mean the jolly good rogering you gave me?”
Chloe flushed a deep red, her body signalling all the little giveaway signs that she was hot to trot again. She might as well have flashing red lights above her head. “Yes,” she all but whispered.
“Detective, you can bend me over your desk at work or do me in a sling on a Saturday night in the middle of Lux, if either of those things appeal to you,” Lucifer assured her.
“You’d still want… that, even without the drug?”
“Well, the drug certainly had some lasting benefits,” Lucifer began, then noticed the way Chloe’s brows drew together in that disapproving way she had and backtracked rapidly. It wouldn’t do to undo all the good work that had been achieved here by leaving Chloe in any doubt at all about his full and enthusiastic consent! “But yes, absolutely, take a look for yourself how much I like the idea of it,” he said, waving his hand to emphasise his very hard cock. “My arse is yours for the taking right now, if you want.” He allowed his eyes to wander over her, projecting confidence. “And we both know you do.”
“We – we can’t,” Chloe said, swallowing. “You must be sore.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed, and started to shift, ready to present for her, only to halt at the unaccustomed twinge from the vicinity of his arse. “I say,” he said, intrigued.
“I told you.” Chloe sounded worried! About him! “Maybe you should see a doctor. Just in case. I wasn’t gentle with you.”
“I’m fine,” Lucifer assured her. “I remember every delicious detail — including the parts where I urged you quite loudly to do me harder.”
Chloe looked embarrassed, of all things. ‘How can you…”
“Look, we can have a rain check on the fucking the life out of me again, if you insist,” Lucifer said, feeling magnanimous. Also, his arse was actually quite sore, now that he was thinking about it. Presumably that would fade once Chloe was out of range, but he knew for certain now that he’d take any amount of pain in lieu of Chloe’s absence.
Not that a minor thing like a bit of a pain would stop him anyway, but he didn’t want to scare Chloe off, not when she was looking like she might seriously be considering, finally, having sex with him of her own free will.
Lucifer shifted till he was sitting in front of her. He took her hand and stroked her wrist gently with his fingertips. Chloe shivered, and finally looked at him properly. Her eyes were dark with lust. “Whatever you like,” he said gently, and Chloe swayed towards him.
Of course, then Chloe’s phone buzzed. She started, and pulled her hand free of Lucifer’s, jumping up to retrieve it from the pocket of the jacket lying in an abandoned tangle by the door. “Crap! Eight missed messages from the precinct,” she said. “I gotta go.”
“At least bathe first,” Lucifer said. “They’ve managed without you this long, and you can’t go out looking and smelling like you spent the night in a brothel.”
“Oh, God,” Chloe said, looking mortified.
In the interests of staying on point, Lucifer ignored her reference to his father. “Come on,” he urged, and took her hand. “I’ll wash your back.”
Lucifer half expected her to pull away again, but Chloe allowed him to lead her into the shower. She even let him wash her back and bowed her head and groaned softly in surrender when he massaged conditioner through her hair. She stood quiescent under his hands; for once she seemed small, fragile even. Deceptively so, Lucifer knew. He didn’t presume to venture into more exciting territory, though. She was trusting him to take care of her and he wasn’t about to break that trust. He stepped back and applied the body wash to his own skin.
He looked up when Chloe turned around, though, and when she reached out and placed her hands on his waist he turned under her gentle urging. He stood, his own head bowed under the spray, shivering at the sensation of her small hands over the planes of his shoulders. At first she avoided his scars, but when he managed not to flinch when she brushed the edges, he felt her gentle fingertips massaging lightly over their ridges. He couldn’t suppress the tremble that went through him. His whole body was a confusing contradiction of impulses — aversion versus arousal. He teetered between pulling away and leaning into her questing hands, now smoothing the slick body wash over his back in broad, firm strokes, easing the tension that seemed to have knotted in the muscles of his back and shoulders.
“You okay?” Chloe murmured, and it was that gentle concern which undid him. He turned his face into the spray so that she wouldn’t see the traitorous leaking of his eyes at the terrible, wonderful, divine feeling of acceptance.
Chloe must have felt the minute shuddering that wracked him. How could she not? Her body pressed against his the length of him now, her cheek between his shoulder blades. She wrapped her arms around his chest and her hands pressed firmly over his heart.
The world disappeared. There was only the two of them; for the first time Lucifer truly felt part of another being, that hollow, eternal aloneness vanquished. They were cocooned in their own reality of glass and steam and hot water beating down on them.
He could have stayed like that forever.
Incredibly, Chloe seemed to feel it too, she wasn’t pulling away. Her desire to leave, to go back to the real, human world, seemed to have vanished. She stood with him, breathing in unison. He became aware that she was murmuring something; the words themselves were just platitudes but they weren’t the point, he knew; it was all in the tone. The tone that conveyed reassurance and caring and support, calming him, easing him back from that terrible, wonderful state.
“Right,” Lucifer said, when he felt able, straightening pointedly. Chloe loosened her hold but didn’t let go. He became aware of the brush of her breasts against his back, and of his backside against her pelvic cradle. He pushed back against her suggestively. “Are you sure I can’t tempt you?”
“Lucifer,” Chloe sighed, and he started to turn just slightly, just enough to aim his most smouldering Blue Steel at her. But Chloe was moving too, sliding under his arm so that she was in front of him, fun parts pressed to fun parts. Her arms slid around his neck and she looked up at him. He didn’t want to acknowledge the emotion he saw in her eyes. He needed time to regain his bearings, to remind himself that no matter the confusing, unexpected feelings this human inspired in him, that she was just a human. This inexplicable attachment he’d formed was an anomaly.
But Chloe was still looking at him, unflinchingly, and all the barriers that she’d raised against him since they first met were gone. He gazed down at her upturned face, eyelashes beaded with droplets from the shower, her beautiful grey eyes seeing him so clearly, and he marvelled at her bravery.
He couldn’t resist her. He lifted her effortlessly — even aside from his still greater than human strength she was a slip of a thing under all that protective armour and strength of will. She tightened her arms around his neck and raised her legs to wrap around his waist so that she was open to him. His cockhead brushed her wet folds and despite himself he hesitated, struck by a sense of inevitability, of finality, of flying without wings with no idea how he was staying aloft.
“What is it?” Chloe murmured. “Lucifer?”
“Nothing,” Lucifer said, because he was Damned all over again if he was going to let anything ruin this moment. Holding her gaze, he lowered her slowly, watching her eyelids flutter and her attention turn inward as he entered her. “My love,” he murmured, and for a moment awareness returned to her eyes as she focused on him. He rocked them both unhurriedly. When she finally cried out and spasmed around him, Lucifer toppled over the edge with her, his strength unexpectedly leaving him so that he subsided into a sitting position on the floor, Chloe still firmly seated in his lap, clutching him as though she never meant to let go, as the spray beat down relentlessly on them both.
Lucifer checked the news sites while he threw together a couple of bacon and egg sandwiches. They were warning the public not to drink Spring Magic bottled water and the footage showed stock being removed from supermarket shelves and vending machines. He poured a couple of tumblers of juice and added ice as the scene changed to sheepish looking dishevelled humans being interviewed by reporters in the street.
He put his phone down when Chloe emerged from the bathroom, towelling her hair. Disappointingly, she was fully dressed again, and as he watched she tidied her hair back into a casually sophisticated bun. She came over to him and leaned against his shoulder. As he glanced down at her, she reached over and plucked his morning pick-me-up from his hands and took a swig. “Spiking your breakfast juice now?” she said teasingly, glancing up at him with an amused tilt of the head.
“What do you mean, ‘now’?” She was too close, leaning against him trustingly, intimately, as though they’d passed some human relationship milestone, stirring more of those uncomfortable protective feelings in him. Feelings he knew better than to let her know about — she’d not appreciate it one bit. She was an independent creature, his Detective.
“Your beverage is on the counter,” he said, retrieving his own drink and nodding towards hers. Chloe slid onto the nearest bar stool and reached for the tumbler of unimproved juice. She drained the glass. “I need to get going,” she said, looking regretfully at the sandwich he pushed towards her.
“You’ve time for a sandwich, Detective,” he chided. “You need your energy to uphold truth, justice and the American way, surely?”
“I am starving,” she admitted. “But they need me back at work immediately. The Captain says it’s under control now. There have been no new cases reported in hours, but nearly thirty percent of staff are either still in the hospital or they’ve been sent home to recuperate.”
“What if the drug isn’t fully out of your system yet?”
Chloe smiled lopsidedly at him. “I think I’m good.”
Lucifer resisted the temptation to make a lewd comment about just how good he knew she was. This wasn’t the time or place. “Well, hang on,” he said. “Eat your sandwich while I get dressed and I’ll come with you.”
“That’s not necessary.” She hesitated visibly. “You should rest.” And there was that blush again. “Just – just in case this isn’t completely over.”
“All the more reason I should come with you,” Lucifer pointed out. “If either of us does start feeling an uncontrollable urge to shag someone again, we don’t need to bother some poor unsuspecting stranger. Much more efficient, don’t you think?”
“I suppose so,” Chloe said thoughtfully, an expression on her face he couldn’t decipher. She picked up her sandwich and took a bite. Satisfied she wasn’t about to scarper the moment he took his eyes off her, he went to get dressed, her odd expression still niggling at him.
“I hope you know this wasn’t a one-night-stand sort of drug-inspired romp,” Lucifer said when he was suitably attired and groomed — in record time, thank you. Chloe hadn’t even finished eating. He slid on to the stool beside her and picked up his own sandwich. “I’m not that kind of guy,” he said, taking a large bite in deference to his partner’s desire to hurry.
Chloe made a rude sort of sound around her the bite she was taking, and grinned at him as she chewed. “You’re totally that kind of guy,” she said, when she’d finished swallowing. “But no, I know you, Lucifer.” She smiled at him and Lucifer’s heart did an entirely new flip flop sort of thing that he wasn’t at all sure he approved of.
At the lift, he watched Chloe shrug into her jacket, all business again. He thought they’d come to some kind of agreement here, but he found himself hesitant to put a name to it, in case he jinxed it somehow. He’d always scoffed at the superstitious, mostly because they had no idea what they really should be worried about where the supernatural was concerned. Still, he found he couldn’t just leave it like this, couldn’t walk out the door without some kind of certainty.
“Detective,” he began. “Chloe.” He stopped, staring at her, words deserting him for once. Chloe looked at him, her inquiring expression shifting at whatever it was she thought she saw in his face. She reached up and cradled his jaw with both hands. “Lucifer,” she said, infinitely understanding, and there was that uncomfortably taut feeling in his chest again. She was leaning towards him, her eyes intent, and Lucifer leant down and met her lips. It was more than a first kiss, as wonderful as that was; it was the sealing of an agreement.
The lift doors opened and they broke apart. Lucifer held out his hand. “Once more unto the breach, dear friends, and all that,” he quipped, his game face firmly back on.
Chloe smiled, and took his hand. Lucifer laced their fingers together and held on tight.