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“Who is Clotilde?”
Tim swallows, and suddenly he’s…nervous. He’s a fucking demon, a fiend from Hell, he doesn’t get nervous.
And yet…
“Clotilde?” Tim can’t help but ask, mostly because he never thought that name would ever leave Lucy’s mouth.
“Yes…she was someone to you, wasn’t she?”
Lucy has that adorable puckered brow thing going on right now, and Tim wants to smooth the wrinkles.
He clears his throat. “Yeah, a really long time ago.”
Lucy sweeps her wild mane of dark waves out of her face, and he hates that her skin is damp from sweat, from whatever nightmare she’d been having. She looks resolved—the furrowed brow turns into some other emotion. Frustration?
“I was attacked in an alley and almost killed. I think I deserve to know something. Like why I keep having these dreams about her…and you…”
Tim scrubs a hand down his face, feeling the scrape of stubble on his palm. He should have known better, should have known never to appear to her in that crossroads. He vowed a long time ago, when she was born, he would stay away until their paths crossed on her terms. Tim had resigned himself to it never happening, and then that dumb fuck stole her work.
“Clotilde…. Centuries ago, she was someone I cared for very much.”
Lucy’s brow arches, urging him on.
“You have to understand, Luce. I’m, well, to put it simply… millennia old. As old as time itself. I have known and corrupted many humans. None of them had ever made me feel anything but disdain…until her. Until you.”
Lucy’s head shakes side to side slightly. “I don’t understand.”
“There’s a lot about the universe that’s hidden from humans. Some are born with the gift of knowing that there is more to existence than the physical plane they see every day. Every single soul on this earth right now has existed for almost as long as I have. They are the embodiment of the universe itself, a piece of the Maker. The soul can’t die. So, a physical body runs its course, exhausts its lifespan, and at death the soul goes into a sort of…limbo…until it is reborn again into a new body.”
“Reincarnation?” Lucy asks softly. Tim nods.
“You are the reincarnation of Clotilde. Normally, if humans have any sort of memory from previous lives it's simply a dream that they pass off as random firings of their cerebral neurons.”
Lucy’s lips part, somewhere between shock and confusion. “Have you known this whole time that I’m her?”
Tim looks away. He can’t find it in himself to look her in the eye.
“I’ve known, yes.”
“Since before that night at the crossroads?”
“Yes.”
“Did you lure me there to make that deal?”
Tim shakes his head vehemently. “Fuck no. In fact, I almost didn’t even show up when you performed the summoning spell. I didn’t want you to make that deal with me.”
Lucy’s hands sift into her hair, elbows resting on her bent knees. Tim can tell from her posture that she’s struggling with this knowledge.
“So…is free will an illusion? Was I always meant to go to that crossroads? To meet you?”
Tim shrugs. He doesn’t have an answer, but he wishes he did. “I don’t know.”
“I…I’m…” Lucy stutters, trying to make sense of the thoughts that had to be racing. “So…because my soul existed in a past life, and you were involved in that past life…that’s why you’re here? Because I’m her, reincarnated?”
Tim swallows. “No, that’s not why I’m here.”
Lucy sits still as a statue for a moment, then abruptly shoves the covers off and starts collecting her clothing, putting each article on as she goes.
“I would like you to…to send me home now.”
Tim scrambles up to the edge of the bed, the soft sheets pooling in his lap. “Wait…Luce…”
“No!” She whirls on him, hair flying, danger in that one growled word. “I—I just found out I’ve been having sex with someone who’s waited centuries for someone else to return.” Lucy shoves her legs into her jeans and buttons them. She’s clothed again, unfortunately, and she is pissed.
“Come on. Send me home. I don’t want to be here anymore.”
“Lucy, let me explain—”
“ No , Tim,” she says furiously again. “Send. Me. Home. Then leave me the hell alone. You’ve got my soul. I think we’re done.”
Well that’s something Tim can’t have. But he also sees the fire in her eyes, the wrath. In this moment there will be no convincing her that her line of thinking is utterly wrong. There is only one thing Tim can do, and that is to send her home, regroup, and hit this discussion from another angle.
Because there is no way on this fucking green earth that he will ever leave her alone.
Tim squares his shoulders, nods, and reaches across the space between them, which might as well be an ever widening chasm, and touches his palm to her shoulder. She’s gone instantly, safe and sound back at her apartment.
And Tim was feeling…well, he didn’t know what he was feeling. He’d never had these emotions before. Not even when Clotilde had been taken from him.
“ Fuck ,” he whispers aloud to the woefully empty room.
~*~
A few days later, Tim is absolutely fucking miserable. Normally, he would have looked in on Lucy, just to watch her, to see her, to be close to her. But he’s refrained, knowing it would be best to give her some space before he returned to claim what was his.
Okay, that kind of thinking was what had gotten him into this mess. He needed to calm down. A demon does not become unhinged over a human.
“What do you know about… dating? ” Tim finds himself asking Mack, the demon he’d become the closest to over the eons.
“Dating?” Mack coughs, nearly choking on a hot dog. They were currently seeing to some hellish business in New York City, and hot dogs with all the dressings were Mack’s earthly weakness. Well, one of them. Demons had many earthly pleasures in which they indulged. Tim’s sure he only has the one now.
“Yeah, dating, you know…like humans do,” Tim supplies, leading the way down an alley and into the entrance of an old warehouse. It had once been a bovine slaughterhouse in the early 20th century, and now it’s basically become Mack and Tim’s ‘office’ while they’re topside and on the east coast.
“Why the fuck would I know how that works?” Mack shoots Tim an incredulous look. “You’re better at seduction than I am. Shouldn’t you know this?”
Mack is a Tempter demon, but not the seducing kind. He is a literal devil on people’s shoulders, coaxing them into nefarious deeds like embezzling from their shitty bosses or lying to their wives. The two of them liked working together to nail down a soul…Mack tempting, and Tim dealing.
They step through a wall of magic into an interdimensional space that looks exactly like a banker’s office from the 1930s: old fashioned desks, Tiffany lamps, and leather seating.
“I don’t know how to date,” Tim grumbles. “I’ve never needed to.”
“Who do you want to date anyway?” Mack asks, settling in at his desk and propping his feet up on the rich mahogany surface. He continues to devour his hot dog.
“Um…” Tim stammers, like a human teenager faced with speaking to his crush. “You know who.”
Mack stops mid-chew. “The girl from the crossroads in LA?”
Unable to look his friend in the eye, Tim’s gaze shifts around the room. “Yep, that’s the one.”
Mack’s feet fall to the floor as he sits up, hot dog forgotten. “Since when do you bother yourself with human females unless it’s for a tumble in the sheets?”
Tim sighs. “Since now. Since the moment she summoned me.”
Mack scowls, shaking his head before cramming the rest of the hot dog into his mouth. He says something, but it’s unintelligible around the food he’s chewing. His eyebrows furrow in concern.
“What?”
Mack rolls his eyes, as though it’s an inconvenience Tim couldn’t make out whatever he’d said around the mashed up meat and bread. “I said, are you out of your mind? You don’t need to bring any more attention to yourself than you already have.”
Yeah… about that.
There had never been a demon in the infernal realm more valued than Tim. Over the millennia, no other demon had raked in as many souls. So many that he’d been promoted to archdemon, which gave him even more freedom to do what he wished, more power, and more acclaim. He’d been left alone to do what he does best: claim souls and do whatever the fuck else he desires.
That did not mean Tim hadn’t made his fair share of enemies. Too many. Demons jealous of his skills, demons just hating his guts for existing. Can’t forget the angels too… fuck the angels…one in particular.
“Come on, Mack. The rules are: there are no rules. We can’t get anyone pregnant, and if we make ourselves known, we just erase the memory.”
“There may not be rules for you, Mr. Archdemon, but there are rules for the rest of us peasants. You can’t go inserting yourself into anyone’s life—”
“It’s not like I’m marrying a human!” Tim interrupts.
“Not right now…but a date…dates are like gateway drugs to marriage, man.”
Tim rolls his eyes. “You’re really fuckin’ dramatic, you know that?”
Mack shrugs. “I’m just lookin’ out for you. You’re not untouchable, no matter what you think. None of us are. Don’t give anyone the leverage necessary to make a power move on you. If you get attached to that human, she’s going to become a target.”
Well, bit late for that.
Tim hates that he knows Mack’s right. He’s already in too deep with Lucy. Has been since he sunk deep into her ass and fucked her near to unconsciousness. Before then, really. But if there’s one thing Tim has never been able to control, it’s his impulsive nature. He wants Lucy. He needs her. She is his, and there is no one that will ever take her from him. And dear Maker he will do everything in his power to keep her safe, keep her his, consequences be damned. It’s what a human would call ‘selfish,’ but he’s a demon, and selfishness is basically part of his DNA.
~*~
The rest of the day, Tim spends his time scrolling through sites he’d found through Google searches, trying to learn as much as he can about how to woo a woman. Of course, a lot of this seems to involve emotions he’s sure he doesn’t have the capacity to feel, but if there is one thing he can do, it’s fake it.
Fake it till you make it is how the saying goes, right?
Tim waits a few more days, hoping he’s giving Lucy enough time to cool off. He still can’t see why she’s so upset over this situation, but he wants the chance to explain without her freaking out. Yet another quirk of the human mind Tim can’t make sense of.
He waits until he knows he’s got about an hour before Lucy arrives home from work. It’s easy to pop into her apartment, mostly because he’d warded it to kingdom come, allowing only himself the ability to enter.
He takes stock of the place, having materialized right into the middle of her living room. It looks much the same as it had the last few times he’d been here. For the most part, Lucy keeps her space tidy, but scattered about are the occasional, rather adorable little spots of disarray. There are dishes in the sink, a pile of clothes on the floor of her bedroom, and in her bathroom she’s left a few strands of hair on the counter.
Tim finds himself smiling softly.
He has his own place, for sure. Places , actually. As a demon, however, he doesn’t need much sleep. Only a few hours here and there to recharge. Even infernal and celestial beings have limits to what they can do. Only the Maker has infinite power and knowledge and blah, blah, blah. But he might be willing to share a space… with Lucy…
Tim’s smile curls into a sneer. He never thought much about his grandfather, if he could even call Him that.
After a quick glance at his very expensive Swiss watch, Tim curses and hops to it, manifesting all the things he would need to make this work. To woo Lucy Chen. To make her see that he’s the only thing she’ll ever need.
~*~
The day had been exhausting. While Lucy lived for the days she spoke with patients, she hated the days they held in-services at the office. They’re part of the tedium of the job, continuing education and all that, but then there’d been a two-hour-long staff meeting that could’ve been an email. She had decided on the drive home that she would order delivery, and afterward she’d indulge in a glass of wine or two while soaking in a nice warm bubble bath.
It had been days since she had last seen Tim, and she hates that she misses him. Misses the little notes he’d send, and the surprise visits. But, she’s hurt and confused, and she had needed some time to try and process. Unfortunately, processing, or attempting to at least, had hurt her head more. It was like philosophy, thinking about the concept of free will versus fate, the cycle of life, and apparently, rebirth. She’d ended up more bewildered than ever.
Stepping up to her door, Lucy releases the deadbolt and turns the doorknob. Immediately, she notices there’s something off. Not wrong, exactly, but different.
There are rose petals scattered in the foyer, red and white and pink. They form a path further into her apartment. Lucy steps into the semi-darkness and closes the door behind her. Her living room is illuminated only by the ridiculous number of candles placed in various types of holders throughout the space and on into the kitchen. It takes a moment for her to also register the faint strain of music emanating from deeper within the apartment. It sounded like…saxophone music?
Lucy takes another cautious step forward, and though she knows subconsciously who has done all of this, she can’t seem to wrap her brain around it. Setting her purse down on the kitchen counter, she peers over to the stove, where…
Okaaayyy…
Where invisible chefs are cooking? One of her wooden spoons stirs itself in a pot, and some seasoning has lifted as if on a gust of air and is shaken over a pan with salmon. Her brow furrows, more in confusion rather than horror. A new tune begins to play, and it's enough to break her reverie. As she turns to locate its source, her gaze is pulled back to the rose petals strewn across the floor.
Again she advances slowly, inching forward on the path that leads to her bedroom. The candles flicker and dance, creating elegant shadows across the walls.
It almost seems…romantic?
Lucy forces her feet to move faster, but pauses at her bedroom door, only slightly ajar instead of wide open as she usually leaves it. Reaching out, she presses her fingers into the wood, giving it a push. The door creaks open slowly, revealing much the same sight in her bedroom as everywhere else: tons of candles, rose petals leading up to the bed, and that damn Kenny G. music. Lucy’s eyes follow the line of scattered flowers, following it up to her bed. At the side is an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne nestled in. Her eyes lift, and she nearly chokes out in amused horror at what she sees.
Tim is laid out on her bed, stretched out on his side. He’s got one arm propped up and holding, and a long stemmed rose clenched between his teeth. Lucy’s eyes bug out when she notices how naked he is. So very naked. Only, there’s a heart shaped box of chocolates covering his groin.
“... What the fuck?” Is all Lucy can think to say.
An eyebrow arches, but Tim doesn’t relinquish his hold on the rose. He’s trying and failing to give her the come-hither, bedroom eyes, and Lucy does the only thing she thinks she’s capable of…
… She bursts out laughing.
~*~
There she is, the literal object of his desires, mere feet away from him. And she’s laughing. She’s laughing at him.
Tim sits up abruptly, displacing the expensive box of chocolates. He rips the rose from his mouth and lets it fall to the floor.
These actions only seem to make Lucy laugh harder. She’s wheezing, and tears are streaming down her face.
“Well,” Tim grumbles, adjusting his position on the bed and getting up on his knees. “I didn’t think my gesture would get this kind of reaction.”
“What gesture?” She asks, barely able to form the words.
Before Tim could act indignant, he takes stock of her, cataloging her appearance for signs of hurt. It had been days since he last checked in on her, and after that night with the homeless man… Fuck, he shouldn’t have left her alone for so long.
She looks good though. Her hair falls loose, and she’s wearing a casual blouse with a pencil skirt that fit her hips and thighs so fucking well, it’s all Tim can think about for a second.
But she’s still laughing. At him.
“This… romantic… gesture…” Tim fumbles through the words, waving his hand around at everything.
“This…” Lucy sweeps her own arm out. “This is supposed to be romantic?”
“Y-Yeah,” Tim mutters. “Is it not?”
Lucy takes another look at everything: the candles, the champagne, the flowers, and then finally those warm brown eyes land on him. Maker, what those eyes did to him.
“It’s really only romantic in a Hallmark movie,” Lucy nods, settling on her response. “Is that what you did to prepare for this? Watch a bunch of Hallmark movies?”
Tim doesn’t know what a Hallmark is, but maybe he should look into it?
“Uh, no… the Internet…” Because he’s never been able to lie to her, at least outright, only by omission.
“I cannot imagine what corner of the Internet you were searching for this.”
“So… you don’t like flowers?” Tim asks.
“I’m not saying that,” Lucy corrects. “I do think the rose petals are a nice touch. And the candles. But the rose in your mouth and the box of chocolates in front of your junk?” Her mouth forms a line, as though trying to contain more laughter. “Not so much.”
“Dammit,” Tim hisses under his breath.
“Can you please at least put some pants on?” Lucy asks, voice strangled.
Tim’s ego is sufficiently deflated that he doesn’t capitalize on that perfect moment to make innuendos and seduce her into bed. Instead, he gets off, and then snaps his fingers, a pair of black sweats appearing on the bottom half of his body, hanging low on his hips. Because his ego isn’t fully dead, he doesn’t materialize a shirt.
“What are you doing here?” Lucy says on a sigh of relief now that his bottom half was covered.
“I’m here to win you back,” Tim replies bluntly.
That sends Lucy off into more peels of laughter. Tim crosses his arms over his wide chest, mouth pursed.
“I’m so sorry,” she gasps, holding up her hands, palms out. “I’m just imagining a demon searching the Internet for romance . What’d you search? ‘How to get a girlfriend?’”
“No,” Tim scowls.
Okay, that may have been one of the phrases he searched for. Along with ‘what did I do wrong?’ and ‘should I have told her she’s my past lover?’ and ‘what is the cost of an elephant?’ That last is because Lucy loves elephants.
Lucy’s smile softens, and Tim dares to hope when she steps up to him, placing her palms on his chest.
“I just… I wanted to say that I was sorry, but I’m a demon and I don’t… I don’t understand that emotion,” Tim says, raw honesty in his words.
She nods, smoothing her palms up to his shoulders, and then back down to his chest. It sends a little shiver through him. “I probably should’ve let you explain more. But I got angry. Do you understand why?”
Her words are gentle, almost as though she was talking to a child, trying to get them to grasp complex concepts and emotions.
“I think so,” Tim says softly. “I didn’t… I didn’t know how to tell you. You and Clotilde are almost night and day. Yes, you share a soul, but you’re completely different people. I loved Clotilde one way, and I--” He stops himself, feeling confusion. Had he just said he’d loved Clotilde? Did he even know what love was? And he’d been about to tell Lucy he loved her too… Which is insane, considering they didn’t know each other in the grand scheme of the universe and its happenings. She’d had a whole life before meeting him in that crossroads, and he before her. He may be a demon, but even demons could have experiences .
Lucy doesn’t address Tim’s slip up, which he feels relieved. Instead, she presses her hands against his skin yet again, and tilts her head. “Whatever your ghost chefs are making out there smells delicious. Would you like to talk about this more over dinner?”
Shouldn’t that have been his line?
Tim nods, and Lucy slides a hand from his chest and down to clasp his hand in hers. She tugs at his arm and leads him out of her room, and back into the kitchen.
He’d been meticulous about choosing the meal. He’d wanted it to be perfect for her. Demons didn’t need about as much sustenance as they did sleep, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t indulge. Tim had eaten at the tables of some of the world’s finest chefs, and enjoyed every bite.
“Sit,” Tim bids Lucy, pulling out one of the chairs at the small circular table she had just off the kitchen. Lucy did, smoothing her skirt as she sat, and then Tim helped tuck her in. He steps over into the kitchen, grabbing the two prepared plates held aloft by the magic he’d programmed.
Tim returns to the table, setting down a plate in front of Lucy. “Lemon roasted salmon with asparagus and jasmine rice.” He sits down eagerly in his chair, watching her for every minute expression and reaction.
Lucy smiles, picks up her fork, and spears a piece of the salmon and scoops up some of the rice. Tim watches mesmerized as she brings the fork to her mouth, watches the tines disappear past those plush lips. She chews thoughtfully, and he knows exactly when the taste hits her because she lets out this little pleased sound.
Tim grins widely, pleased in a different way, and digs into his own.
After they sit in silence for a bit, eating their food, Lucy sets down her fork to take a sip of the wine that had appeared in front of her.
“So… start from the beginning,” she coaxes. No, more like demands.
Tim sighs, setting down his own fork and settling in for this discussion.
He hadn’t talked about Clotilde with anyone in a long time. Mack was the only one that knew she’d ever meant anything to Tim. Fucking a human was fine in the infernal realms, but anything else, any hints of love, or whatever the demon equivalent of love was, was seen as a weakness. When he’d finally pushed Clotilde from his mind, Tim had moved on, thinking himself free of that pain -- if that’s what that feeling had been -- and continued his job. Because that’s all he could’ve done.
“Well, in the beginning, there was nothing…”
Lucy shook her head with a sigh. “Smart ass.”
“I am a demon…”
“Tell me about… well, I had a dream about your first meeting. In that clearing in the woods?”
Tim nodded, feeling a knot forming in his throat. “That was the first time, yes.”
“What happened after?”
“Clotilde sold her soul to have the power to protect herself from her betrothed. Your folklore actually got it accurate… witches were made, at least in one way, by signing their souls away, and then they would become imbued with power. But never more power than me, the dealer.”
Lucy nods, following so far.
“There had been something about her that night I found her in the woods. Something that called to a deep part of me. A part of me I hadn’t known existed. I couldn’t stay away from her. I did my job, and then I would go to her, spend time with her. And then we became… something. I’m… I’m not sure what. And then she was taken from me.”
Tim isn’t sure if he liked the look on Lucy’s face. It was borderline pity, and like hell he wanted anyone’s pity. She reaches across the table and covers his hand with hers. She doesn’t urge him on, just silently reassures him that she’s there.
“That’s what I saw the other day,” she says. “Something coming out of the sky. I felt fear. Pure terror. I’d never felt anything like that before, not even in the alley.”
He didn’t want to tell her anymore, but he knew he owed it to Lucy. Her heart had been racing after that dream, he’d heard it, and he never wanted to hear it beat so fast ever again.
“It was… an angel.”
Lucy’s eyes grow wide in shock. “ What? Aren’t they supposed to… to be good?”
Tim snorts. “Sure, that’s what they want you to think. The majority of them are bags of dicks.”
“You keep hinting that everything I think I know about heaven and hell is wrong. Will you… will you please tell me something so that I can understand?”
Tim hates that pleading look in her eyes, but he cannot deny her.
“At the beginning of time… there really was nothing. Just the Maker. I guess They got lonely, because They created two children: one which you might call God, and the other you might call Satan. God’s name is actually Isha; Satan’s is Ish. The Maker gave Their children the power of creation too, not wanting them to be lonely, so they might have children of Their own.”
For a moment, Tim wonders if this is what it’s like being on Lucy’s couch, so to speak. What it’s like to bare all that you’ve ever felt, done, or seen. She watches him intently and without judgement, giving him her full attention. What he had to say next is also something he hasn’t thought about or talked about in a very long time.
“Naturally, they got to work creating. Isha created her angels, as you might call them. Beautiful and winged and forces of good. Ish created his demons, beautiful creatures with fierce power. As with all things in the universe, there was balance. There were good angels and bad angels, good demons and bad demons. And all was as is for a very, very long time. And then… the Maker got restless. They wanted to create more, so They made humans and the earth for them to inhabit. And again, all was as is for a time. Until a sect of angels grew tired of the Maker’s doting, and Isha’s doting, for she so loved and cherished the humans too. They began to terrorize the humans, orchestrating such attacks that blame was placed on demons rather than them. But someone saw through the lies, and he tried to expose the so-called ‘good guys.’ He fought for the humans, to protect them, and Isha kicked him out of the celestial realm. Condemning him to the infernal. The rift caused such chaos. It took the Maker’s intervention to clean up the mess. And now, both angels and demons are at an impasse, tempting or inspiring humans, having a competition to see who could corrupt or save the most souls, and such as it’s been for eons.”
Tim stops. The apartment is silent. The only sound is the crackle of candles and faint hum of air conditioning units. Tim’s eyes fall back to Lucy. He’d let them wander, as though looking off into the distance and reliving that conflict. Lucy looks stricken, like something just occurred to her.
“Oh Tim…” She breathes.
He just nods.
“You were an angel. You tried to stick up for us… and you were damned for it?”
Tim grins wryly, sitting back in the chair and crossing his arms over his chest. “I wouldn’t say I was damned. Honestly, I think I got the better end of the deal.” It’s a front. It hurts. Even to this day, being kicked out of his home by his mother. Not being trusted and believed by his mother. The one person who was supposed to love him unconditionally. But his uncle had taken him in, given him a space to really spread his now nonexistent wings… which had been brutally ripped from him by his mother.
“Okay, so, you became a demon? Like, you fell or something?” Lucy asks.
“Angels and demons are basically the same, except angels have feathery wings and demons don’t. Their nature is a result of who their parent is. But then… isn’t good and bad subjective anyway? Doesn’t everyone have a little bit of good and a little bit of naughty?”
“I suppose so,” Lucy replies softly, taking another sip of wine before digging back into her food.
“So… how Clotilde fits into all this…” Tim sucks in a breath, busying himself with his own food to try and gather his thoughts. “Well, she was… she was collateral damage in a way. Hundreds and hundreds of years I made deals, and I was good at it. Really good. Then I met her and things just… she was different. I felt something that I had never felt before. Not even when I was an angel. And I thought… I thought I could have her. But…”
This is tough. Tim doesn’t cry. Demons don’t cry. But when he thinks of Clotilde, their short but meaningful time together, he can almost feel like maybe something was forming in his tear ducts.
“Those angels that fought because of their jealousy of humans? Their… their leader… he took her. And no matter how much I raged and complained and begged my uncle and the Maker to help, she remained in the celestial realm where the good humans go when they die. Where I couldn’t reach her. I thought that would be that… that would be the last time I saw Clotilde, felt Clotilde. Hundreds of years passed again, and then… there it was.”
Lucy looks curiously across the candlelit table at him. “There what was?”
“You,” Tim says simply, softly. “I felt it. Familiar, yet… wholly different. It was the day you were born.”
Lucy’s eyes widen, and there’s something unreadable there.
“So what I should have said from the jump, Lucy… is that yes, you and Clotilde share a soul. But that doesn’t mean you are the same. Yes, because you share a soul your basic nature is the same: good and a champion for the underdog and kind. But that’s it.” Tim lets out a frustrated sigh and shakes his head. “I know this doesn’t make sense, I’m sorry. It’s the Maker and their grand design or whatever.”
“I think I see…” Lucy hedges, setting down her fork on her empty plate. “ … I still chose, desperately, to sell my soul for that asshole to get what he deserved for stealing my hard work. I still chose to let you…” She trails off, the apples of her cheeks growing flush, and Tim can’t help but smirk.
“You still chose for me to do such delicious things to you,” he supplies.
“Yes, sure, that,” Lucy says. “I just… I didn’t want you to be with me because you think I’m her. I didn’t want fate to rob me of my free will.”
Tim nods. “I understand. What little I know about the Maker’s grand design is this: They’re a huge proponent for free will, but if you reach a crossroads, so to speak, They also might try to nudge you a certain way if They think it’s for your greatest good. But ultimately, it’s your choice. Your decision.”
“So… are you saying They weren’t going to stop me from selling my soul?” Tim can tell she’s contemplating what that might mean. The very same thing he’d been thinking about since they’d sealed their deal. Why hadn’t the Maker stopped her? She is clearly all that is good and wonderful with this world. On such a momentous choice, why would They not try to push Lucy in the other direction?
“You would’ve gotten a flat tire or had some other car trouble if the Maker hadn’t wanted you to make it to that crossroad. But then again, if you choose the morally bad over the morally good, They still allow you to make that choice. Angels and demons have become influencers… trying to sway humans one way or another. Believe it or not, my charms don’t always work.”
Lucy snorts. “ You’ve not locked down deals before?”
Tim shrugs enigmatically. “There’s a reason Mother Teresa was as good as she was. I tried. I tried like hell. But her will was ironclad.”
The woman across from him bursts into laughter for the second time that evening.
“You’re telling me you tried to get Mother Teresa to deal with you?”
Tim nods. “Yep. She wouldn’t have it.”
They grin at each other, and reach for their wine glasses simultaneously. Tim watches her over the rim of his glass, and she stares back, equally searching. Something flicks darker in Lucy’s warm brown eyes, and she sets her glass down and gets to her feet. Easily, she toes out of her heels and walks around the table to Tim. She looks so damn beautiful in the light of the candles, Tim’s chest clenches. It’s like she’s an ethereal creature all her own, not demon or angel or human, but something else entirely.
Lucy pulls her skirt up slightly as she sits in his lap. Her ass and hips fall easily into the cradle of Tim’s lap, and he bites back a groan as his arms encircle her waist. One of her arms rests across his shoulders, while the other hand traces his collarbone and the line of his shoulder and up his neck. He shivers again, because her simple touch melts him.
There’s still more he’s not telling her, but he can’t. Not now, maybe not ever. For her own safety. She could go a bit longer without knowing about Caleb…
“I’ve missed you,” Tim breathes, tilting his head back to see her face. There’s another wry smile, and Tim wants to kiss it away.
“You go months between not seeing me, Tim. A few days was too much?”
“I’m never far away, Lucy,” Tim admits. “Even if you can’t see me.”
Lucy’s free hand cards into Tim’s hair, and it’s all he can do not to purr. His eyelids flutter closed for a moment, pushing his head into her fingertips and palm.
“I wish I knew why I feel what I feel for you,” Lucy whispers. Tim almost misses it, her words are so soft.
“I wish I knew why too,” Tim admits, hoping but knowing she’ll read what he’s trying to say. He feels something for her that he has never felt before, not even with Clotilde, and he can’t explain why it’s so visceral and all consuming.
Their eyes meet as Lucy looks down onto Tim’s face. The expression on hers changes, and before Tim can even try to guess the emotion, Lucy’s adjusting her position, rucking up her skirt more to straddle his lap. Both hands cup the back of Tim’s head, playing along the base of his skull and his neck. He sighs, hugging her tightly against him.
“It’s going to take some time for me to… to get used to what I know now,” Lucy says, leaning in to rest her forehead against his. He splays his hands across her back, rubbing soothing circles through her blouse. Tim nods, because there’s nothing else he can say.
As though his acknowledgement was all she wanted for the time being, she tilts her head ever so slightly, brushing her lips against his. Tim nearly groans, having missed that plush, warm press of her mouth. His arms curl around her tighter, crushing her to his chest. He can feel her breasts, and the warmth between her legs as it slides right up against his dick.
Tim’s instantly hard, a feat that would make a human lightheaded. But he’s ready, ready for her, like he was made to serve her.
The kiss turns hot and deep, and he nips at her lips, causing her to gasp and part the way for him. His tongue dips past and licks everything it can reach, then tangles with her tongue. She moans, and starts to wiggle her hips, seeking some kind of friction. His palms slide down, and his fingers bite into the ample flesh of her ass, squeezing and grinding her heated center against him. Lucy mewls, a sound he swallows with his mouth and tastes with his tongue and saves for later because it’s the fucking hottest damn thing.
Lucy pulls away, sucking in needed breaths. Her already dark eyes look almost jet black, her pupils dilated and that flush on her cheeks redder now.
“What do you need?” Tim breathes, their faces so close that his lips brushed hers as it moved and formed words.
Her lips part further, then close. Lucy knows what she wants to say, but she won’t say it.
“Do you need me to take care of you?” Tim asks, gliding a hand from her ass to grip at her thigh.
Lucy nods wordlessly.
“Do you need me to make you feel good, Lucy?”
She nods again.
Tim fists his hands into the soft material of her skirt, rucking it further up her thighs and over her hips. Underneath, she wears a pair of cute little sky blue panties, trimmed in lace. He groans, never finding something so damn hot. So hot he has to taste her mouth again, and he does, furiously, sealing his mouth over hers as though he could suck the breath from her lungs. As he devours, Tim lifts them both slightly, adjusting their positions so that her center rested on his thigh as he sat back down.
“I’ve been an asshole, Lucy,” Tim says, craning his neck up just enough to nip at her chin and jaw. Lucy lets out a strangled sound, somewhere between moan and confirmation. “Take what you need. It’s the least I can do for you, right?”
Lucy makes another sound, almost a growl, as though saying ‘damn right it’s the least you can do.’ Tim bites back a grin.
“I want you to take your pleasure from me. Rub that needy pussy on my thigh. I want to make you feel good. Don’t you want me to make your pussy feel good?”
Lucy’s bottom lip puckers out, as though pouting. She nods. And she moves.
They both hold their breath at the same time, eyes glued to each other. Lucy rocks against him, and he can feel the molten heat of her through his sweatpants. She starts whining, that little furrow at her brow telling him she was frustrated. It wasn’t enough.
“Wait…” He husks out, grasping her hips to still her. He thought Lucy was frustrated before… the glare she shot him was feral. “I’m gonna make it feel even better, baby,” he promises, waving his hand to rid both of them of every garment. Now she’s naked, and oh so warm in his lap, and her gorgeous breasts are right where he wants them. “Go on, baby. Take . Grind that little clit against me and make yourself come.”
Lucy shivers, but she doesn’t waste time. Her hips start moving again, and Tim lets out another strangled sound.
“Oh fuck, Lucy,” he pants. “You’re so fucking wet. Practically dripping down my thigh.”
Lucy leans in, hiding her face against his neck. And, oh no, that would not do. Tim pushes her shoulders back, sitting her up straight. “No.” He growls. “I want to see you. I want to watch you fuck that sweet pussy against me. Move, sweetheart. Move .”
Her face is so flushed, his precious human embarrassed at dry humping herself against him. Though there was nothing remotely dry about this. Lucy was so astoundingly wet. The heat of her is practically searing the skin of his thigh. And Tim knew heat.
His palms rest lightly on Lucy’s hips, moving along with every forward roll of her hips and every retreat. Tim can feel every detail of her pussy on him, those slick pink folds and the hard bud of her clit.
“Tim,” she whines more desperately now, her movements less fluid and more jerky. Tim could tell she found the exact movement that would drag her sweet little clit against him. It wouldn’t be much longer.
“Fuck, that’s it, baby,” he praises, looking down to where they touch. It was a heady sight, those carefully kempt dark curls and the slight peek of her clit with every forward motion. “More. Harder . Make that pussy come.”
She moves her hips faster, throwing her head back and showing Tim the beautiful line of her neck. Her perfect breasts sway, tantalizing and teasing him. He sucks a dusky nipple into his mouth, circling his tongue around the bud. Lucy gasps, and she grinds down harder. Tim helps her now, grasping her hips in his big hands, pressing her down into his thigh as he presses up. He let’s the turgid nipple go with a pop, only to attack the other, grazing his teeth gingerly across the sensitive tip.
Lucy keens, muscles go taut, and she’s falling, except Tim holds her tight, arms wrapped like a vice around her waist, holding her as she shakes apart with her release.
He’s never going to let her go, ever.
Especially not with the way she moans his name in orgasm, not with the way she just rutted against him desperately, not with the way she smiles, and the way her beautiful, intelligent mind works.
Lucy slumps against him, her arms around his neck and her head resting on his shoulder. Tim’s hold on her doesn’t waver, he absorbs her heat, feels the dampness of her skin from her sweat, and his thigh is wet and sticky from her slick.
This human… this woman… was absolutely fucking amazing, and he knew he was only scratching the surface of what he could learn about her and what he could do to that tight, fucking beautiful body.
“Take me to bed?” Lucy whispers in his ear, and Tim is only happy to oblige.