Chapter Text
She really needs to stop what she's doing.
Like, right now would be good.
There is something.
Something in the back of her mind is telling her - warning her - that she should just give him space because it's not everyday your scheming Hell-whore of a mother coarces you to wordlessly spill your deepest desire in front of witnesses after taunting and tormenting you a moment of your life that you can never get back...
But, hey.
Courage makes you do dumb things sometimes, don't it?
But, she needs to see him.
To, at least, make sure he's okay.
He's her partner. That's what she should do. That's what good partners do.
Only... there may also be a more personal reason for her going to Lux instead of home to rest and recuperate after after Asherah...
After his Mother... She...
Unbidden, the images take over without her wanting them to.
"So, tell me..."
Chloe turns her head towards the voice in the still too-dark space around her. Her headache still aching as her grogginess starts to dissipate.
Last she remembered, she had been at Lux, waiting for Lucifer to investigate a new slew of gruesome murders and...
She can't recall anything else.
Just having a drink and feeling dizzy and-
"...What would cause my son - the one and only Lord of Hell - to come to the aid of a mortal woman?"
And she sees her.
Even the harsh fluorescence can't hinder the beauty of the woman who slinks out of the darkness.
She's met her only once before.
Outside Lux, a few weeks before, while standing next to her car and waiting for Lucifer.
A short encounter. Simply a polite hello, a declined offer of a cigarette, and an odd compliment of how lovely she knew she'd be. Completely baffling her.
It'd still stuck with her.
She'd remembered thinking of how stunning the woman was. How startlingly gorgeous. Clad in red high heels and utterly seeping sophistication.
How oddly familiar.
It'd be only a few hours later that she would find out that she had met the Devil's Mother.
And the instigator of the bloody murders that had occurred soo recently.
("Mind control." Lucifer had said. "Just a small drop of poison in the water and all chaos will break loose. It's her favorite thing. Chaos. It's her specialty, really.")
She's exactly as she remembered. Striking, flawless exterior hiding a soul made of nails.
"Oh dear." She hears close to her and starts to see a pair of gem-like green eyes peering at her. "I see my minion went a little far with the drugs."
Those eyes scared her the most. Would always scare her the most.
The unreal shade of emerald. The feline pupils. A frightening contrast to her son's deep, dark brown. The single physical distinction among a sea of striking similarities. Same shade of hair color. Same long, black lashes. Flawless skin. Even though the woman doesn't speak with the same English accent as him, Chloe can't help but, notice the same speech patterns that they share. The articulate way of talking. The using of words to bring you to a lull.
Even the way she could look at you as if she knew all your secrets.
She only knows one other person who could do that.
Except for one large difference.
Because while Lucifer sometimes annoyed her and was inappropriate and invasive, he never, not once, gave her the creeps. Not ever. Not like this woman.
Unnerved her at times, yes, but never that.
Speaking of-
"What is it, my dear? You seem baffled."
She knocks her head away from the invasive fingers trying to smooth away tendrils of loose hair on her forehead. Trying her damdest to glare at the woman standing over her, even in her state.
"Where am I?"
"One of my son's properties." The older woman answers, nonplussed as ever. "Would make things so much more fun, don't you find?" She asks as though they're old friends at afternoon tea.
She also doesn't like the expression on her face. As though she knows something you do not.
(Another trait she's loathe to admit this hell-bitch has in common with her partner.)
She recalls the surprising fear and panic Lucifer had displayed when he had found out about Chloe meeting her that night.
She's starting to understand why more and more.
Thus, maybe, she shouldn't have asked but- " Make what more fun?"
"Let's find out, shall we?"
And more lights are being turned on and she's wincing from the brightness of it and seeing the figure tied up in front of her for the first time and gasping-
She shakes her thoughts off, not having realized that she had ended up exactly where she'd needed.
Her mind flickers back to the man probably inside and upstairs.
Drinking scotch. Sending for Amenadial. Yelling at Maze in frustration, probably.
For the first time tonight (maybe before) she catches herself chuckling.
He really has become someone important to her.
Her partner. Her confidante. Her-
Chloe's heart skips a beat at the thought of how painful it would be to lose him.
A harsh reminder of close she got this very night.
She can't exactly pinpoint when it had been that they'd begun steadily getting closer.
She thinks of tears and sobbing into his shoulder that night he had come to her and Trixie's aid with Malcolm. After the stress of Dan's trail. After officially signing her divorce papers.
Of her mind finally gaining the clarity it needed to figure that her partner. The man who'd almost always had her back, no matter what. Who shrugged off her attempts to push him away.
Who had saved and been there for her.
Is The Devil.
She thought of demands of explanations and of red eyes and frightening power-
She thought of remembering the man she'd come to count on during the next week she had asked - and he'd reluctantly given - for space.
Had it happened then? She's not sure.
All she knows is that after everything was said and done, she had thought herself crazy. Completely bonkers to allow him into her life.
That maybe she should more cautious about him, considering his true nature.
Before realizing that being The Devil of lore had nothing to do with his nature. Just a job description.
His nature is the man she had come to know and care for.
Maybe it had been after. Solving more cases together. Letting him have a key to her house to cook her and Trixie breakfast. A lunch here. A dinner there.
She had come to depend on him for so much more than their work that she hadn't realized it until-
Until-
"Well, now!" A tall, dark-haired terror in red heels claps her hands together like an excited five-year-old as The Devil himself - her only son - begins stirring in his restraints against the chair holding him. "Look who's back?!"
For some reason, the reminder of her partner's words to her after that first case together (after he had saved her that first time) at her bedside when she'd woken up in the hospital - groggy, confused, his steady voice bringing her back - causes her blood to boil.
(Makes her angrier than she's ever been. And she has shown exceptional displays of rage on his behalf since being brought in on the loop on everything. At Amenadiel for trying to kill him. At his Father (at God, for crap's sake!), for abandoning him for soo long.)
"How could you?"
The words snap out of her before she could think to stop them.
Of course, the woman across the room hears her fine and currently leaning over the groaning man waking up and tied to a chair by his own Mother, long, blood red nails pausing their journey across her son's cheek to turn to her. "I beg your pardon?"
The nearly maternal gesture on her part just enflames Chloe all the more.
She's a mother. SHE's a mother! Not this bitch!
She thinks of Trixie. Thinks that, no matter what, there is absolutely nothing her daughter could do that she wouldn't forgive. And never, ever to the point of hurting her like this.
(And she had thought his Father the cruelest of any parent for his treatment of Lucifer. She still knows he deserves better.)
"How could you do this to him?" She asks, voice as steady as she can make it save a wobble of anger aimed at the woman looking at her like the smallest bug she's had to squash under her shoe. "He's your son. How could you?! Have you no shame?!"
"Chloe, don't."
She ignores her now awake partner in favor of his mother, who's eyes are now narrowed and in red slits.
She stomps down a brief flash of fear as her rage boils to the surface. "You are a real piece of work, you know that? And I thought all this time that God was bad-"
"-No, Chloe-"
"-But, you take the fucking prize! Do you have any idea what he's been through? Do you?" She yells. Memories of their time together flashing through her mind. Watching him open up to her of all he's suffered.
"You two-bit demon bitch!" She hurls the insult the same as she would a bullet from her gun and watches with the most glee as the other woman's face flashes red with her own rage. "As far as I'm concerned, you deserve to rot in Hell-"
That seems to do it ultimately and before she can blink, she's ON her! A life-crushing grip around her throat. Familiar eyes of hellfire staring into her soul as she starts choking and choking. Her life draining. Long, sharp fingernails breaking skin-
"Mother, don't you FUCKING DARE!"
Then, just like that, the moment is gone and Chloe is breathing again. Wheezing and trying to catch it. Rasping for air. Her blurred vision clearing up-
"Really?" She hears above her, as nonchalant and curious as ever. Ignoring the person she just tried to kill gasping for breath. "All that... feeling." She adds, uttering the last word as though she's saying a filthy swear. "All that passion? All that upset over one mortal? One human woman?"
By this point, Chloe has gotten her lungs back (though they burn mightily still) and once everything's clear, she looks across her and watches her partner's jaw clench tight. Eyes almost as full of rage and fire as his Mother's.
He doesn't look at her. Only saving his anger for the statuesque woman beside her still.
She wishes he would look at her.
"What's soo special about her?"
"That's hardly your business, you vapid, prison wench." He replies, smooth as you please.
His Mother is across the room in one blink, smacking him across the face and Chloe watches as she leans down over him, a delicate hand cradling his chin even though he tries to yank himself out of reach with a grunt. Her grip notably tight as she grips his face. Gazing into his eyes in a familiar manner that causes Chloe's stomach to drop down to her feet. "Let's try it this way then..."
Oh, no.
"No." He tries struggling against her incredible strength, though without much effort she continues to hold him in place in spite of him. "No-"
She keeps him there and holding her gaze with one hand. "Now, now..." She tut-tuts quietly, her soft voice still reaching Chloe even from across the room. Creating an eerie echo that fills the air in wisps of sound. "...If you won't listen to Mommy, I will kill her, you know that." She tightens her hold on his face forcibly. Long red nails pricking into his skin. Voice growing louder and louder with vicious glee. "I will slit her pretty little throat and force you to watch her bleed out until she's no longer breathing, would you like that-?"
"Fine." He utters at last and his compliance forces Chloe to speak up again.
"No!"
She has no clear indication of what exactly the other woman might do but, if the ideas forming in her head are lending her any clues at all, Chloe has a pretty good idea.
(She's investigated all the murders. Seen the bodies. All the blood. The gruesome nature of them. She doesn't think she's ever seen people commit such inhuman acts towards each other.)
She's honestly scared to death of what this foul woman might make Lucifer do. To himself. To others.
To her.
That saying if her abilities end up working on him.
"Let's see..." His Mother murmurs, calmly caressing her son's face. Peering into his soul. Like he, himself, has done so many times before."I think I'll start here."
Chloe winces. Waiting. Holding her breath.
"What do you desire?"
Chloe's eyes go wide in her head. Oh shit...
She's helpless to watch as Lucifer gazes back into his Mother's green eyes. Unnaturally still. Placated.
Chloe has heard him ask people this many times. Seen the slightly glazed expressions on their faces. Watched them purge their secrets to him as though talking to a long-lost friend.
She thinks this is more frightening than him being made to hurt somebody.
"What do you want most from deep down in your black heart? The very pitch of your soul, hmm?" She trails those sharp nails over the side of his face, as though to soothe him. "Who do you desire, rather? Whom would you do anything for? Who would you die for, more interestingly?"
Chloe's heart hammers in that moment, for some reason. Pulse ratcheting up and over as her partner's face moves from his Mother's loosening grip. Eyes looking away and across. Gaze deep and fathomless and uncharacteristically earnest and-
And looking right at her. The answer complete.
When she comes back to herself, Chloe realizes that her eyes are wet. She lifts her hands from her steering wheel and realizes that they're shaking. Her heart feeling much like it had all those hours ago. Soon after that tension-filled moment, Amenadiel swooping in and coming to their aid. Blasting Asherah with angelic light til they could get away.
And after making sure she was safe, flying off with his brother to safety and leaving her at her car nearby. Maze driving her home.
Only for her to spend two minutes in her empty house and drive right back to Lux.
She's never been soo scared. The only other instance that could top this having been Trixie's kidnapping.
She had come so close to losing him. Her partner. One of the most important people in her life.
"Who do you desire?"
She wipes at her eyes. Heart picking up madly as the remembrance of his gaze looking at her after Asherah asked him that.
"Whom would you do anything for? Who would you die for?"
He'd never looked at her like that. No one had ever looked at her like that.
She thinks about them having gotten closer over the past few months. He'd calmed on the cocky asshole thing and she had subsequently allowed her walls to fall further. To be more easygoing while he'd started taking things more seriously.
He had even relaxed on trying to get her into bed every chance he got.
(Relaxed. Not stopped, really.)
For a while, she'd assumed it would start up strong again the minute she had gotten her divorce.
But, no. Not even.
It hadn't really ended so much as quelled. Taken on a new light perhaps and for a bit, she had thought he'd simply given up. Had finally given some latent consideration to her refusals and had just decided not to bother anymore.
But, then, one day she'd come to work wearing her hair loose and he had smiled differently and called her lovely with that look on his face-
And it's been confusing. Not so much hot and cold. More like warm and warmer.
More like he'd replaced overly aggressive sexual remarks with a gentleman's approach. Choosing instead to throw a flirty compliment about her legs one minute and then...
And then, he had gotten to replacing invitations to his bed to an evening of dinner and wine and then his bed-
She doesn't know!
Why is she even thinking about this now?
Why shouldn't you? Her mind echoes. Part of her is sternly telling her that now is not the time and there's still his Mother to consider and the clusterfuck that's been happening all over the place-
Yet, the other part of her? The other, steadily growing part of her wants to talk to him about it.
If not now, when? She finds herself thinking. Gripping her steering wheel tightly.
They had both almost died tonight (if Asherah would've been that fair after her plans for them, no doubt) and she can't stand another minute without seeing him. Hearing his voice. Breathing in the same air as him.
No matter what.
And if that's not a small sign in itself, she doesn't what is.
And with that. Her decision made. Chloe shuts off her car, gets out, and heads inside Lux.
"I thought I took you home." Maze says immediately upon her entering the empty club.
Hesitation hits her briefly and she stops walking.
She hadn't fully counted on being caught by Maze.
Why, she doesn't know.
"What? No hello?"
"Hello." The leather-clad other woman retorts dryly with no real heat but, sarcasm nonetheless before repeating. "I thought I took you home. What are you doing here?"
She hasn't the faintest idea what it is she and the demon bartender have developed since the Malcolm Graham ordeal but, she honestly can't say she doesn't prefer it over what was before.
Now, instead of being on Maze's bad side without much effort, it seems that they have become... Not exactly friends and not really casual acquaintances but, Chloe won't lie and say she isn't close to both.
She hasn't had many female friends in recent years that weren't either a fellow cop or another mom she'd meet at school gatherings.
Regardless, Maze is as (if not more) inappropriate and invasive than Lucifer and when she's not being generally sardonic, she's actually good company.
(Honestly, Chloe doesn't know how she'd treat someone who's very proximity can cause your very immortal boss to gain injuries from everything like a gunshot to a paper cut.
Another thing that has given her pause about hers and Lucifer's partnership those few months ago.
Finding out you're literally the Devil's cryptonite isn't something you take lightly.)
"I was home." She says, gesturing towards the stairs. "I came back here."
"You're not gonna-"
"Please, Maze." She utters, sighing through it. She gets it, really. She appreciates the other woman's loyalty but- "I don't want to be alone right now." She adds sincerely. "I have to see him."
It's true enough. She won't say the specifics of speaking to him about certain things but, right now she feels shattered and uneven and simply knows his presence could balance her out once more.
Maze simply looks at her for a long moment and she wonders if she's somehow overstepped.
Then. "Alright." The demon heaves a sigh of her own while lining up a few shots. "He's upstairs. He and Amenadial are at it again and I can't promise you'll walk in on something pretty."
Those two fighting again? Lovely.
Doesn't stop her, though.
"Thanks for the warning." She replies, heading upstairs towards the elevators.
Sure enough she can hear two male voices, loud and arguing, even before she reaches the penthouse.
"-She is out of control, we have-"
"-Don't you realize that-"
She wonders how long they've been at it like this. Though Maze's exasperation downstairs should have been a clue.
She has been party to these fights of theirs. Ever since she was put in the loop.
She and Amenadial get along okay (their first meeting, notwithstanding), though obviously her loyalty lies with his brother and she's made it known many a time.
Especially after finding about his original mission of trying to force Lucifer back to Hell. To say nothing of his complacency of attempting to use Malcolm to then murder him into going back.
She doesn't trust him as far as she can throw him but, he's still her partner's brother nevertheless and it's really none of her business.
If he hadn't had brought Malcolm back from the dead, he wouldn't have gone crazy and kidnapped Dan and her daughter-
He wouldn't have killed Lucifer in front of her eyes.
But, he's been a big help since Asherah came top-side and thus far, hasn't attempted to betray them all so, she'll cut him a courtesy bone.
The elevator doors open to two grown men (Angels, whatever) yelling in each other's faces.
It's a testament to how distracted they are chewing each other out that they notice a minute too late that she's standing there.
"Detective." Lucifer utters in surprise and her stupid heart, honest to his Father, jumps in her chest at the sight of him.
(Wow. That's... Wow. She hadn't expected that.
Her heart is quite something tonight.)
"Right. Well..." Amenadiel utters uncomfortably and starts shuffling to leave once he's realized his brother's attention has shifted after a longer than necessary moment. "...I'll be going then."
"Do allow your wings to hit you in the ass on the way out." Lucifer drawls. Clearly never able to not get the last word in.
The other man just grunts, ignoring him and Chloe is certain had he not been a divine being, he would've shot his brother the bird.
"Detective Decker." He greets, walking past her, his gait slowing. His discomfort showing more significantly and she knows, being an Angel and all, that he's smart enough to have picked up on her not-trusting-him thing.
Instead of saying anything about that, however, she says. "Have a good night, Amenadiel."
Then, he's stepping around her and into the elevator without another word. The doors closing on him.
Leaving Chloe and Lucifer alone.
She looks at the man in the middle of the big space of his apartment.
He hadn't changed from earlier, though has removed his suit jacket - the one with the red pocket square, a personal favorite of hers on him - and even though Chloe thinks he looks good all put-together and polished to the outside world...
...It's this: The way he looks at the end of the day. Hair not as perfect. Jacket thrown off. Sleeves rolled up and undone.
This is how she likes him best.
It's at times like this that her resolve would weaken and walls crumbled and she could admit (at least, on the inside) how attracted she is to him.
And it's at times like this - end of a bad week, sitting next to him at the piano, him smiling at her - that she often ponders how it is that the very idea of him (of a them, an us) had gone from 'nonexistent' to 'no good, bad idea' all the way to 'maybe great idea that'll just have to wait'.
Her divorce. Her daughter. His Father. His Mother. Their lives.
It's just all been a game of waiting with them, hasn't it?
And she thinks a big part of her is almost about done with it.
"Are you two-?"
"Oh, no." He waves his hand as though to swat away a fly. "He's just being... Amenadiel. High-handed. A royal, Angelic pain in my ass as usual."
She snorts, taking the few steps into his penthouse. Firelight glinting across polished surfaces.
He watches her from his spot in the middle of the room. His dark eyes never missing a thing.
"Are you okay?" She asks slowly. Cautiously approaching him.
Talking about what his Mother had done or not, she does wanna know.
He peers at her coming closer. Taking her in as if she's still some wonderful mystery he can't solve even after all this time. "I definitely feel better now."
"Glad to hear it." She says, ending up in front of him. Looking up into his face.
Even in the subtle lighting of the apartment, she can still see a bit of redness from when his Mother had slapped him in the warehouse.
She reaches up to him without thinking. "How's this doing?"
He only slightly resists as her fingers move over the spot. "Nothing like an old slapper from your hell-hag of a Mother to waylay your healing abilities." He quips, grumbling slightly instead of answering, mildly leaning into her touch.
She feels herself start to smile, his constant, neatly trimmed five o'clock shadow feeling like sandpaper under her fingertips.
They stay like that for a bit: Standing in the middle of his penthouse. Her hand on his jaw. Glimmering, dark eyes gazing at her.
"Come on." She says softly after a while, shrugging off her jacket and ignoring his raised brow in favor of grabbing his hand to drag him away.
She finds his well-hidden first aid kit during a thorough search and despite his protest and after he's requested it, they end up on his balcony next to the fire pit.
She's been to his home many times but, has never taken advantage of his view of the city.
Los Angeles is not a very pretty city though, the vantage point from here can certainly fool you.
He barely flinches as she dabs oitment onto his jawline carefully. Her eyes on her work. His eyes on her.
She says nothing for a long time, not wanting to break the quiet intimacy of the moment.
This has been happening more and more in recent months. Being close. Comfortable silences. An unspoken beat of tension they never address.
She has to say something. She has to talk about what she came here to talk about.
She breathes. Braces herself.
"Lucifer-"
"Why have you come here, Detective?"
The steady, deep rumble of his voice cutting through her own causes her something in her belly to clench and she pauses in her ministrations before moving aside the kit and turning back to him.
"Your Mother." She begins, seeing the flare of agitation in his otherwise calm stare, voice thankfully steady as she motors on. "What she asked you at the warehouse. What she... made you-"
"No."
She halts at the unexpected interruption. More like the unexpected wording, she should say. "No?"
"No." He repeats firmly, as though his word could book no further argument.
Well, fuck that!
"No?" She takes a step away from him, a sudden flare of anger splicing through her. "What do you mean, no?!"
"What I mean is..." He says calmly, rage still leeching into his voice anyway. "...No. I will not have a discussion about feelings and matters of the bloody heart because my Machiavellian whore of a Mother prompts it so-"
"Why?" She yells, not caring if Maze hears them and comes up to find a human detective laying into the Devil. "Why not?! Because now you say so?!"
This was fine. She had come here, scared but hopeful and now-
He stares down at her with hard, glittering eyes. "The Devil doesn't do feelings."
She gives into the sudden urge to roll her eyes. "Oh please, you're just being a coward."
The minute the words leaves her mouth, she wants to take them back. His expression looking like she'd slapped him, too before dissolving into a scowl.
"You dare call me a coward." He utters, low and dangerous, eyes flaring fiery red as she stands there defiantly, never cowing. "When you, yourself, dangle water in front of a thirsting man, laying bits of affection here and there-"
"What?" She hears herself ask, fight leaving just as suddenly as it had arrived. Feeling befuddlement and something like hurt in equal measure.
Of course, he either doesn't hear her or ignores her altogether, continuing on. "You and your smiles and your touches and your bloody eyes-"
"My eyes?"
"-Looking at me when you assume I don't notice but, I do!" He booms and she winces as the harshness of it. "Don't you realize that?! I notice everything about you!"
And there it is.
That seems to take the wind of both their sails and she stands there. The space around them feeling like it doesn't have enough air.
"Then why haven't you said anything?" She asks quietly. Softly. So very frightened.
His jaw tightened as though he'd just realized what he has revealed. His eyes closing briefly before he sighs with utter agitation. "Because there is nothing to be said."
He turns as if to leave and her hand snaps to catch him by the elbow.
"Maybe there is." She whispers. Not willing to let him ignore this. Not like she has. Like they both have.
He turns slowly. As unsure as she's ever seen. Hope and suspicion raging a war with him. "What?"
She breathes. Inhales his cologne and the essence of him. Steals her nerves. The butterflies fluttering in her chest.
"What I mean is..." She looks into his eyes. Trails her hand down from his elbow to his wrist and circles her fingers around it before taking hold of his hand in hers.
This is the first time they've held hands. She thinks. Perfect fit.
She gives him a gentle squeeze. Feeling the burn behind her eyes at the profoundness of the moment. "...Me, too."
It takes him a minute to realize what she means and if Chloe had thought that she had ever, at any point, stopped surprising him already... Well, it seems she's knocked the wind out of him now.
And it's not letting like she's faring any better. He's gone from the biggest pain in the ass to still annoying, useful acquaintance to this.
Her partner. Everything that term entails is what he's become to her.
Everything she never thought she needed.
His Mother can seriously rot in Hell but, at least, she'd brought them to this point.
She gathers her courage and takes another step closer to him and she recognizes the sharp intake of breath as she does.
It's a thrill. Being this close to the point of stealing taking the air right out of him. Gazing into his eyes. The feeling of him towering over her like this.
He's the Devil. Has been alive since the beginning of time. Has indulged in who even knows how many pleasures, worldly or otherwise.
This ancient, untouchable being.
He's gorgeous and powerful and wants for nothing when it comes to getting attention and... He's looking at her like she invented and hung the moon.
Feeling all the braver for it, she lets herself smile at him in spite of the harsh pitch of her heartbeat. Letting something like smugness travel through her as his intense eyes trail to her mouth, Adam's apple bobbing madly.
He's also not saying anything. A thing that would normally make her nervous but, right now, allows a sense of power to grow within her.
The man's basically a chatterbox so, this is weirdly endearing.
Not in a negative way more in that she's so used to him being more measured and in control and to see him not that, well...
...It toggles at her confidence is all.
Among other things.
Giving into an urge she's had for a long time, she lifts a hand once more like earlier in his living room, fingers settling and curling into the sides of the dark thickness of his hair.
"Are you petting me, darling?" He asks after a few minutes, in half jest and half delight even as he's leaning into her, low-lidded and nearly purring in contentment, her fingertips combing through his imperfectly perfect curls.
"Shut up. You'll ruin it." She scolds him softly, utilizing her hold on him to encourage him forward as she leans up.
He smells so good. She thinks, already half-breathless with anticipation. Like expensive cologne. Sandalwood and dark spice. The type of scent that almost always has her imagining him, overwhelming and beautiful and baring her down on a mattress-
"Chloe-"
"Shh." She shushes quietly, reveling in his expression. Face slightly disbelieving. Blown wide pupils. Lips parted and wanting-
She kisses him. For the first time.
And ohh, it's perfect. Perfect is the only possible way she could describe it.
They lips press together. His softer than she could have ever imagined and when she can't help the happy sigh that escapes her, his mouth parts slightly to her and she inhales tobacco and more irresistible spice and-
"Hmm." He hums in surprise, gathering her by the hips to pull her close and tight against him. Those perfect lips softly caressing her own. Strong and with some added pressure and yet inflailingly gentle.
Kissing the thoughts straight out of her brain.
This is definitely not what she had ever dreamed - she's woman enough to admit that she has - how kissing him for the first time would be like.
Firstly, being that she'd never thought that she would initiate it.
She has been in denial for so long and rebuffing him had become a habit so, if anything, she had always assumed it'd be him to push them in this direction much like he did with everything: With passion. Aggression. Power. Doggedness.
But, no. He's kissing her back with a langerous slowness that's causing her knees to go weak and as if he doesn't plan on letting her go any time soon or at all.
She can't say she minds.
And even though they both feel sparks of lust in between the emotions of the moment, this kiss has very little to do with sex.
His hands stay at a respectable place at her hips and do not roam anywhere else while hers slide towards his chest where his heart lies.
No, this kiss has more to do with words. Words they've said and words they still haven't said about how they feel for one another.
He ends it with a nip to her bottom lip that she feels all the way down to her toes. And the kiss hadn't been particular deep or passionate but, she's breathless and tingly as though he had ravaged her on the spot. Her eyes having a hard go at opening right away as she stays put against him, fingers curled on the open collar of his white shirt. Knuckles feeling the thunder of his heartbeat.
He looks good in white. She thinks absently, the fog in her brain slowly lifting as she tries to get herself under control. Eyelashes fluttering as his hot breath rasps over her face. Long, elegant fingers sliding under her chin to encourage her to face him.
(Meanwhile, the other hand remains safely on her hip.)
"You..." He utters softly in awe and when her eyes finally open, she is faced with a very dark pair gazing at her with glimmering desire and affection and more than a bit of pleasure. His mouth unsmiling and serious yet- "...You truly are a wonder."
She... honestly doesn't know what to say to that.
And it turns out she doesn't have to because he chooses the next minute to bring her lips back to him again. Reclaiming her mouth for his own this time and taking her breath away. Showing her how much he feels now.
And this kiss is very passionate. The pins and needles and tingles from a sharp breath ago nothing compared to the attention he's lavishing on her right now. One big hand cradling her face as he immediately opens her mouth for him. A noise that could she call a growl echoing from deep within his chest and down low between her legs as their tongues meet, making her gasp and moan in response. His other, now wandering hand sliding down her back and right above her backside and pressing her closer still.
Now, this is exactly like she would have imagined in those secret fantasies she's had, all alone in her bed at night.
The hand holding her mouth towards him tips her back in the next moment and before she could catch her breath after he moves from her mouth, he's gone on to her neck and any thought of silly matters like breathing and speaking fly out the window as his teeth sink into her throat, an embarrassingly loud noise of shocked arousal ripping itself from her mouth. Fairly certain her eyes do roll in the back of her head at the sensation.
While the other kiss had been about their feelings for one another and everything they haven't said to the other, this one is leaning more towards the sexual. Sex and many other things but, still. She could feel his need and his hunger. His need to take her to bed and his hunger to make her his finally. Help her forget her own name. The last couple of months. The last couple of hours-
She breaks the kiss. Lungs burning and an aching inside her. Her heart going a mile a minute, threatening to burst out of her chest. She's trembling, knees shaking and her balance unsteady. His breath harsh and uneven. His voice wrecked. "Oh, my darling..." He nuzzles her as if to settle both of them with a closeness that their bodies clearly want more of. A sweet gesture considering their current embrace. "...All this time, wondering what you taste like and now-"
"Yeah, yeah." She interrupts in a shaky hush, kissing him again quickly to keep him from talking because the more he talks, the more he's probably gonna say things that'll make her reconsider not letting him make love to her tonight. "I know."
She wants him to. She wants, more than anything, to allow them to sink into each other and hide away and finally find out what she's been missing.
But, they can't. They still have other things to handle and deal with and there's his Father and his Mother-
Speaking of which, they've been through a lot tonight. They've been through a lot the last couple of weeks. Months.
They are both (despite what he may say) too much of a wreck right now to do that and well, considering her reaction to their kiss and embrace, there's a valid chance sex with him might put her in a coma.
He seems to sense that and his thumb swipes her cheekbone tenderly, eyes deep with emotion and she could honestly feel herself melt.
(Idiot. She's never been that woman and yet here she is, dissolving over the Devil.)
She turns her face, pressing a lingering kiss on his palm and holding his hand to her. "Lucifer?"
"Hmm?" He replies, gazing down at her like he can't believe she exists and truly, she couldn't relate more.
She likes that. She likes the way he looks at her.
"Will you-"
"Anything, my love." He utters, quick as he can and she can't help the flustered laugh that comes out of her at his lightning-fast agreement. His complete and utter sincerity. His eyes. Oh, how he's looking at her. Drinking her in almost.
This night has taken a great turn.
"You don't even know what I was gonna say."
"Doesn't matter." He says reverently, kissing her again with a deep hum. Her heart hammering after he's pulled away. "Doesn't matter. Ask me whatever it is you like. I'd do absolutely anything you desire. Anything-"
"Okay. Okay." She says with a breathy laugh. Something like happiness blooming in her chest. It's been so long since she's felt this happy.
She peers into his face. "I need sleep." She says after a long beat, completely serious.
"What?" She wants to laugh at the look on his face.
"I wanna sleep... here with you." She gestures inside the penthouse, quirking a brow at him despite her realization of how truly tired she actually is. And how certainly tired he also is. She can see it in his face. His stance. He may not need the same amount of rest she does but, she can't think of anything better than getting some much needed sleep. Together. In that big bed of his.
And when she tells him exactly that, he chuffs and pretends to pout as she once again grabs him by the hand to drag him back inside. "No sex?"
"No sex." She answers promptly, leading him up the tiny steps of the open area of his bedroom and stopping right before the big, comfy-looking mattress he sleeps on.
(She has been inside his apartment many times and has had one occasion to get to know the bedroom area and she was hungover and confused and trying desperately to figure out if they'd slept together.
Not a fun memory.)
She's just imagining climbing atop it and collapsing right away when Lucifer's long, strong arms wrap around her from behind after a few minutes of dazing off.
"I take it you'll want to shower first?"
She leans into him. Sighing as she embraces the sensation of his hard chest at her back. "Yeah. That'd be nice."
She feels him kiss her hair. "Go on then. I'll be waiting." He gives her another parting peck before allowing her to move off.
It almost always takes her - or at least tries to have it as such - fifteen or so minutes for her to shower normally. What with a seven-year-old most of the time and the chance of at any point being on call for a case-
But, now, she's at Lucifer's penthouse. Late at night. Trixie has her week with her grandparents at their farm.
And at least she'll have grabbed some rest if she gets a call.
She's earned the ten minutes she does take in Lucifer's enormous shower tonight.
All marble and smooth stone. Feels like she's bathing in a gold digger's dream.
When she finally does emerge, refreshed and clean, she peaks out the door in her towel to see a shirt waiting for her.
Or carelessly thrown conveniently in front of the bathroom door.
A crisp, white button-up.
Same kinda one Lucifer had on.
What the hell?
"I see you found my shirt." The Devil himself says with the most conniving glint in his eye as he lounges on his bed. Dark gray sheets pooling at his bare waist. A long arm resting under his head.
She wouldn't put it past him to have posed like that forever just for her to see it.
Then again, he's Lucifer. He doesn't need to pose.
"King of subtly, you are." She teases, edging closer to the bed wearing his shirt. The thing stopping mid-thigh on her.
"Actually, of Hell, darling but, I can understand the confusion."
He eyes her intently as she climbs the bed slowly.
Like something he wants to taste some more of.
"What?"
"I'm just wondering if you're actually naked under there." He muses out loud, as though to gain powers to see through the shirt to find out.
She's not. She's actually wearing the thin tank top she had worn under her blouse today and some clean underwear she had on hand but, his shirt's big enough and just to be mean-
"What'd you think?" She asks, sucking out her inner seductress as she opts to crawl on him.
He watches her with steady hunger as she slinks up. "I think... You would be a cruel woman if you are."
She laughs at his cocked eyebrow. "Who says I'm not?"
He's so tall. He's such a tall man. Long and lithe and sharply angled with a lot of territory to cover. Narrowed in some areas. Broader in others.
And as she had thought, as inhumanly beautiful and luminous layed out like this. His naked torso in the moonlight.
She ends up in his lap. Parting her knees to straddle him on top of the sheet. His big hands cupping her hips as he looks up at her with a wistful gaze instead of the leer she'd been expecting.
"What?" She repeats softly. Caressing the sides of his face.
"My Father can be an unfair man but..." He catches his own whisper but, carries on. "...I never thought that he could be this generous."
She stares down at him. A flash of indignant anger flashing through her at anybody who's ever hurt him.
His Father. His brothers.
His fucking psycho-bitch Mother.
"Yeah, well, I don't know about your Father." She says as gently as she could. "But, I'm here because I wanna be and not because of anything else." She adds, willing him to in believe her. To believe in them.
She leans down and kisses him. Allowing him to grab her hair to deepen it.
She pulls away after a moment before it can get heated, though and climbs off him to settle in bed, fluffing her pillow and curling into his tall frame without a second thought as he wraps an arm around her waist, their legs tangling slightly. Her palm over his heart:
It all feels very intimate. She feels. Having a shower in his apartment. Wearing his shirt. Sharing a bed to sleep.
But, it feels good. Comfortable. Like it's what they're supposed to be doing.
She's enjoying this already. This connection with him and it's heady and new and-
"I want this." She whispers out loud into the quiet of his bedroom.
"Hmm?"
She looks up at him as best she can in the light darkness. "I want this. This. Us. With you. Every day." She explains, for once, saying what she feels.
He's silent for a long time and before she can become too nervous, he turns and kisses her - deeply, passionately, harshly - and then drawing back, eyes blown with emotion. "Where have you come from?" He asks hoarsely. Cupping her face.
"I don't know but, I'm happy to be here with you now." She utters honestly.
And later as she lay in his arms, sound asleep and safer than she's ever been, she'll dream of it.
She doesn't know what had brought them together but, she never had been more grateful that it did.