Chapter Text
Chloe steps into the penthouse and hears a piano rendition of Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door first, then immediately spots Lucifer hunched over the keys wearing the same shirt he had been when she last saw him. When they watched Father Frank being wheeled away in a body bag; the one still covered in Frank’s blood. All throughout the drive here, she kept asking herself what she was doing. She should be eating Chinese with Dan and talking about whether they can save their marriage. But he was as distracted as she was; he seemed almost eager to put off their conversation and get out of there. While calling a last minute sitter for Trix, Chloe wasn’t thinking about Dan; she was thinking about the lost, grief-stricken look on her partner’s face and how he shouldn’t be alone tonight.
More than once, her mind tried to talk her out of doing this, telling her he probably had company already. Lucifer is all about distraction rather than dealing with anything real, and this is the most real thing Chloe has seen him face in the time she’s known him. It wouldn’t be even the slightest bit surprising if he has somebody—or several somebodies—comforting him. But the rest of her (she refuses to acknowledge that it’s her heart) told her that he’s her partner and he’s hurting, even if he won’t admit it, and the least she can do is check on him.
There’s no sign of anybody else here now. Only Lucifer. And he hasn’t noticed her arrival yet. She creeps over to him and pokes her head over his shoulder.
“Hi.”
Lucifer stops playing, a look of surprise on his face as she sits down beside him. He scoots over slightly to make more room for her, and she can see the question in his eyes as he tries to work out what she’s doing here. “Bit late for a new case, isn’t it?”
Chloe shakes her head a little. “I’m not here for a case. I’m here for you.”
Instantly, his expression shifts from surprise to that leering smirk she’s so used to seeing on his face as his eyes scan her body, lingering slightly on her lips. “Oh. Really?”
But unlike everyone else he comes into contact with, Chloe is immune to that smile. Or so she tells herself. She doesn’t fall for his performance, though, because she knows that’s all this is—a way to protect himself from whatever he's feeling. Normally, his eyes would be glimmering. Now, the smirk doesn’t meet his dark, stormy eyes even a little. “Yeah,” she says softly. “I thought you could use a friend.”
The mask drops enough that Chloe can read the astonishment in his eyes and she suddenly wonders if anyone has ever offered him that—friendship. Comfort. Just being there for him. She’s a bit afraid the answer might be no.
Lucifer exhales softly and glances down, clearly at a loss for words. His eyes are bright as he looks at the piano and clears his throat. After a few moments, he turns back to her with a more genuine smile on his face that slowly meets his crinkling eyes. “Do you play?” he asks lightly, gesturing at the piano.
Memories of those piano lessons her mother forced her to take come rushing back. Penelope insisted that Chloe needed an extra talent for auditions. As it turns out, piano was not it. “No. No, I don’t.”
”Come on,” Lucifer encourages, nudging her shoulder. “You must know something.”
”Uh...” Chloe groans as she struggles to remember anything aside from Chopsticks. One song comes to mind. She sighs. “All right, well...let me see. I had three years of lessons, and this is all I remember.”
She turns to the piano, feeling Lucifer’s eyes on her as she carefully taps out Heart and Soul.
Lucifer laughs. “Surely you must be joking.”
Shaking her head, she shoots him a smile and plays the notes again.
Again, he laughs. “All right...” Shaking out his hands and shaking his head, he joins in effortlessly, playing the accompaniment.
Chloe smiles over at him and finds him already smiling back, and for once, she doesn’t deny it: Lucifer has a really nice smile. This isn’t the smile she’s used to seeing; there’s no smugness or seduction in it. He looks relaxed and happy, if a little mystified by her. Well, that makes two of them. Even when she turns her eyes back to the piano, she feels his warm gaze on her and it doesn’t bother her as much as it normally might.
She kind of likes it. Actually, she likes it a lot.
Feeling impulsive for once, she even swipes his whiskey glass and steals a sip before returning to their duet. That earns her an impressed look from her partner.
This is fun, actually. Chloe can’t remember the last time she had a friend to just hang out with herself, then here comes this strange, goofy, sometimes frustratingly annoying nightclub owner and she suddenly doesn’t feel so alone anymore. She hopes she can do the same for him; to give him more than what he’s used to. People seem to flock to him, but they all want something from him—sex or a deal—and while he seems to embrace that...she wonders sometimes whether he ever wants more. More than meaningless one-night stands. More than he's settled for in life.
Looking at him now, there’s light in his eyes and a huge smile on his lips. It warms Chloe’s heart to think she did that for him when before he looked so sad and lost. This is why she came over here; to give him something else to think about, even just for a little while.
When he brings the song to a close, his hands rest on the keys for a few long moments, as if he’s thinking. Trying to figure something out. Turning his head to look at Chloe, he isn’t wearing his usual smug or teasing grin; the smile on his face is soft and genuine and she feels her heart flip in her chest.
“Not bad, Detective,” he murmurs, leaning sideways to bump his shoulder into hers. “You’re not nearly as terrible as I thought you’d be.” Chloe might be offended if not for the teasing lilt in his voice.
“I’ve still got some hidden talents up my sleeve.”
“Ooh, do you now?” he purrs, reaching for his drink. “What I wouldn’t give to learn what those might be.”
Chloe smirks. “In your dreams.” Her own voice is far more teasing than usual. She’s too caught up in his smile to remember she’s supposed to be annoyed when he flirts with her. The problem is, most of the time, she isn’t annoyed in the slightest. She likes his sense of humor, even when she has to pretend she doesn’t. And she likes Lucifer, too. More than she probably should.
“In my dreams, indeed.” He huffs a laugh into his glass, then sets it on the piano top. His hands fall to his thighs and his eyes drop to the piano, eyebrows furrowing as he gets lost in thought. She wants to ask if he’s okay, but suspects he would deflect the question altogether, like he did earlier tonight. Instead, she waits patiently to see what he’ll do—lower his walls a little to let her in or hide behind more flirting and jokes.
He surprises her. “I’ve never...had a friend before.”
Chloe frowns. Lucifer is constantly surrounded by people. While she knows that doesn’t mean they’re actually his friends, surely there are one or two who aren’t hanging onto him because of what they might receive in return. “No?”
Lucifer shakes his head, eyebrows furrowing again. Fidgeting with his cufflink, he licks his lips, and she wonders if he’s nervous. She’s never seen him nervous before. “People flock to me because they know that I can get them what they desire.” His voice is low and quiet, like he’s in confession. Sadness tinges his every word. “It’s always about what they want, never what I want.” He blinks a few times, as if he’s surprised by the words coming from his mouth. Chloe keeps quiet, one hand tightening over the other to avoid reaching over to comfort him. “And when I give them what they want...” He trails off, not finishing the sentence.
Chloe does it for him. “They disappear.”
He nods, shifting on the piano bench like he’s uncomfortable. “Indeed.” There’s more bitterness and sadness in his voice that she doesn’t think he intends for there to be.
This time, she doesn’t stop herself from reaching over to cover his fidgeting fingers. He goes completely still, staring at her hand over his. “You don’t have to worry about that with me, you know,” she says quietly. “I won’t ask you for favors and I won’t just disappear on you.”
Lucifer swallows, one of his thumbs tentatively shifting to stroke the side of her hand. It sends a shiver through her arm, then the rest of her body. His eyes lift to meet hers. He seems to be searching for something, and though she isn’t sure what, she lets him look. After several seconds, he sighs and it sounds like relief. A little smile pulls at his lips. “I’m glad,” he murmurs softly. His mouth opens and closes a few times, like he’s trying to say something, but can’t quite manage it. When he does, his words are barely audible. “I wouldn’t want to lose you, Detective.”
The confession surprises her. Lucifer doesn’t look like the arrogant playboy or self-styled King of Desire right now. He doesn’t even look like the Devil he claims to be. He looks...vulnerable. Like the admission that he doesn’t want to lose her the way he loses everyone else broke down more of his walls.
Chloe leans closer, well aware that they’re probably too close, but even though she really should pull away, she just...she doesn't want to. His eyes drop down to her lips and hers do the same with his. His lips look soft and inviting, tempting, and moistened with what she knows is the whiskey he just drank. Not for the first time, not that she'd admit it, she wonders what he would taste like. The look in his eyes says he might be wondering the same about her.
“Am I the only one who feels this?” he murmurs so softly the only reason she hears him is how close she is to him.
“The only one who feels what?” she whispers back, though really, she already knows. There's tension thrumming between them that always seems to be present. Sometimes it's barely noticeable; sometimes it's like static, present but harmless; and sometimes, like right now, it's like high voltage electricity. Thunder and lightning. Possibly dangerous, but also wonderful and beautiful.
He opens his mouth to explain, but can't seem to find the right words. A flicker of annoyance passes through his eyes. “This. This...connection.” Something she wants to identify as fear flits through his eyes next, though she's never seen anything remotely like fear in Lucifer. He's fearless as they come. Chloe finds it both frustrating and she envies it at the same time. She wishes she could be that fearless. “I've never felt anything remotely like this in my life.”
Blinking, she considers that. She has been categorizing it as sexual attraction. As much as she knows she shouldn't, for so many reasons, she hasn't been able to deny she definitely feels it—at least, not to herself and only on rare occasions. But there is something else there, too, and like Lucifer, she's never felt it before either. She can't even identify it.
What she should do is say no, she has no clue what he's talking about, then she should make her excuses to go home. After all, aren't she and Dan supposed to be trying to reconcile their marriage? But Lucifer doesn't lie—or at least, he claims not to lie—and because of that, she doesn't want to lie to him, either. That isn't the only reason, though, and her mouth makes the decision on how to answer before she has the chance to think about it too hard.
“No. I feel it, too,” she murmurs.
An odd expression passes over his face—some mixture of relief, longing, and that fear again. He searches her eyes. “What do you desire, Detective?”
She smirks a little. “That doesn't work on me.”
A corner of his lips twitches up into a smile. He has a really nice smile. “Humor me.”
Chloe is used to him flirting with her and propositioning her by now; normally, she rolls her eyes, tells him not a chance in Hell, Lucifer, and they move on. Something about tonight feels different, though, and it isn't only that he seems to be letting her in a little more. The tension crackling between them heats her blood and makes her pulse quicken, which she isn’t used to.
Again, she reminds herself that she should ignore it. This isn't what she intended when she came over here. She only wanted to check on Lucifer, cheer him up a little. The last thing she needs is to be another notch on his bedpost.
Lucifer is a wild card—at best. He’s a walking, talking red flag. The drinking and the sex and the partying, and who knows what else. But late at night, alone in her bed when she can’t sleep...she wonders. What would one night with him be like? And what would happen afterwards? There’s every chance that after that one night, after he’s gotten what he’s wanted from the moment they met, he’ll decide working with her isn’t worth it and move on.
But what if he doesn’t? What if, for once in her life, she throws caution out the window? People have one-night stands all the time, even with people they work with, and it doesn't always end badly. Does it?
One night, then back to normal. Partners. Friends. They can work out whatever tension is between them, get it out of their systems, and that’ll be it. It doesn’t need to be a big thing.
And if she’s being honest, she does want him. Much more than she’ll ever admit. He's right about this connection between them, the one he noticed the first time they met. Hell, she just admitted to feeling it, too. She just typically ignores it because...he’s Lucifer.
But what if she didn’t ignore it? Just this once.
His eyebrows are pulled into a frown, his dark eyes contemplative, watching her like he’s trying to figure her out. In a moment of impulsiveness she would normally stomp on, put through the shredder, and then burn to ashes, Chloe leans forward and presses her lips to the corner of his mouth.
Lucifer goes completely still and his eyes widen. She doesn’t think he’s even breathing. “Detective?” he murmurs, bemusement coloring every syllable of her title.
She pulls away enough to meet his eyes, biting her lip as she tries to think of a way to phrase what she wants. “One night,” she whispers. “You and me, working through...whatever this is. Then we go back to being partners and friends.” Maybe tonight isn't the best night for this, but she knows if she doesn't do this now, she'll never find the nerve again. That tension in the air crackles again, stronger now than ever before.
Remembering what he just told her about how everybody uses him as some sort of favor genie, she adds, “Not a deal or a favor, but because it's what we both want.” She pauses. “If it's what you want.”
He swallows and his lips move but no sound comes out. In fact, he's quiet for so long that she starts to second-guess herself. Maybe all his flirting is just that, just for fun. Lucifer could literally have anyone he wants. Why would he want her? A mom in her mid-thirties who's working through a separation from her husband—he could easily find someone less complicated; someone far more interesting and adventurous.
“That’s...what you desire?”
“If it’s what you desire, too,” she says, feeling a bit awkward.
A corner of his mouth, the one she just kissed, twitches up into the barest of smirks. She gets the impression he's trying to hide his true feelings beneath that smirk. “Always what I desire, Detective,” he says smoothly. Uncertainty flashes in his eyes for the briefest second. “Are you sure?”
No. Chloe nods. “I’m sure.”
A puff of air exhales sharply from his nose, his eyes light up, and a moment later, he’s leaning towards her, one hand lifting to cup her face as their lips meet fully. His are soft and pliable and warm as they move slowly, expertly over hers. Chloe turns towards him, her hands finding his neck, thumbs stroking the stubble below his jaw. It’s softer than she thought it would be.
She kind of assumed that if they ever gave into this, it would be all heat and desperation. Hands groping and wandering, pulling at clothing. There is heat, but his kiss is soft, tentative, even, and every nerve in her body comes alive at once. He hums against her mouth, tugging her bottom lip between his. Feeling bold, she darts her tongue out to tease that lip and feels a shudder run through him.
His mouth opens in an invitation she accepts and their tongues meet. He tastes like whiskey and smoke and something unique to him; she likes it a lot more than she probably should. He's a really good kisser, which doesn't come as a surprise. Strong hands find her waist and pull her closer while one of hers slides into his hair, living out a fantasy she had once of messing up his perfectly styled coif. He doesn't seem to mind in the slightest. It's softer even than his stubble, especially with all the product he uses in it and she thinks it might be curly. She's always had a thing for curls.
Their mouths explore the other's slowly, testing, teasing. Lucifer makes a sound of vague frustration in the back of his throat, one arm snaking around her waist and tightening, and the next thing she knows, she's straddling his lap. He doesn't give her time to process the move before his mouth finds her neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses that force away whatever surprise she had.
Her hips jolt slightly when she feels him suck hard at her pulse point and she gasps when she feels how hard he is already. All rational thought has taken an extended leave of absence from her mind and she shifts closer to him, pressing her hips down against his, needing nothing more than to feel him again. Not even her next breath of oxygen feels as important. The strangled moan he makes is gratifying and intoxicating, and she does it again. And again. One of his hands finds her hip to help guide her movements, and it isn't long before she feels heat spreading through her body, settling low in her belly.
With shaking fingers, she starts to undo his shirt at the same time that he pushes hers up her torso. Pausing briefly in her own movements, she lifts her arms so he can remove it completely, then gets right back to work, hardly noticing the way he's paused and tilted back slightly to just look at her for a moment.
By the time she does notice, his shirt is unbuttoned and she's pushing it off his shoulders. She’s seen him shirtless before, multiple times, because Lucifer is shameless. But only now does she really let herself look and appreciate his broad shoulders, evenly tanned skin, and a chest that seems to have been carved from marble. How is she only now realizing he has freckles? Not only lightly smattering across his face, but down his chest, too. All she can think about now is tracing them with her tongue.
Then she remembers he’s drinking her in the same way. Chloe only has a few seconds to be self-conscious before he's leaning towards to kiss the tops of her breasts, just above her bra. She doesn’t even have the chance to be embarrassed by her basic, cotton underwear. Gasping at the sensation of his heated mouth on her skin, the scratchiness of the scruff on his jaw, she tries to focus on exploring him, too.
“Shall we take this elsewhere?” he asks, looking up at her with dark eyes glittering with mischief and lust and something she can't name.
All she can do is nod, but it's enough for him. Wrapping one arm securely around her waist and sliding the fingers of the other into her hair, Lucifer climbs smoothly to his feet. Chloe's legs lock around his hips automatically and he carries her into his bedroom, kissing her deeply the whole way.
He drops her playfully onto the bed where she bounces a few times and laughs breathlessly, his smile widening. Leaning over her, but not joining her just yet, his hands rove her body—the curve of her breasts, her waist, the jut of her hip bones—before meeting at the button of her jeans. He pauses there, looking at her with a raised eyebrow, a silent question in his eyes, giving her a chance to end this now.
But she doesn't want to end this. They've barely started and she already feels a need to be closer, to feel all of him. She watches the play of his muscles as he slowly works her jeans off, blunt fingernails scratching lightly across the outsides of her thighs. She has to bite back more than one moan.
Tossing her jeans aside, Lucifer presses his mouth to her ankle and works his way up, one hand moving up her other leg in tandem. Chloe watches, pushing to her elbows as he climbs her body, his mouth licking, nipping, or sucking and sending throbbing pulses of heat through her body, pooling at the apex of her thighs.
He skips over the places she most wants to feel him, dipping his tongue into her bellybutton briefly, then darting over to nip her hipbones. He’s taking his time, like he’s savoring her. If they only get this one night, then he’s going to revel in it. Chloe shivers at the thought.
Lucifer kisses up her neck, her jawline, then her lips. “Exquisite,” he murmurs, his eyes dark and half-lidded. Without giving her time to process that no one has ever called her exquisite, his next kiss is hungry and sensual and downright filthy, and pulls a groan from her throat. He’s everywhere—above her, surrounding her, his hands mapping out every inch of her body like he’s memorizing her.
Part of her expected to be self-conscious about the number of people he takes to bed on a weekly basis alone. But there’s no room for that right now; he doesn’t make her feel like she’s just another notch in his bedpost. He makes her feel like she has 100% of his attention and she’s the only woman in the world. And she loves that.
Her hands aren’t idle either, tracing the lines of his shoulders, feeling how the muscles in his back move. She realizes that while she’s down to bra and panties, he’s still half-dressed in his slacks; a matter which needs to be rectified immediately. Slipping her hands between them, she finds his belt buckle and fumbles with it slightly. She might be able to focus if Lucifer wasn’t nibbling his way down her neck, but she’s determined.
“No rush, love,” he purrs against her ear. “We’ve all night.”
Chloe shivers slightly, hips arching into his, seeking friction. She doesn’t stop trying to get his belt off. “Get this off,” she demands in a groan.
Lucifer smirks as he pulls away, eyes sparkling with delight and something she can’t decipher. “That eager to see me naked again, Detective?”
“Yes.” No point denying it when he’s on top of her, nestled between her legs.
His eyes flash with something else, the smirk faltering just a touch at her blunt honesty. “As you wish, darling. I assure you, the feeling is entirely mutual.” Pushing up onto his knees, he undoes his belt. She expects him to make a big show of it, the way he does everything else. But maybe he’s as eager as she is; he wastes no time with strip teases, tossing the belt carelessly aside and reaching for the button of his slacks.
Chloe pushes herself upright, bumping his hands out of the way. A slow smile pulls on his lips as he watches her with increasingly dark eyes. She leans forward, kissing where she can reach, his abs contracting and tensing. Her eyes dart up to his as she unzips him, carefully, since she knows he has a tendency to go commando. There’s something curious in his gaze that might make her feel like a zoo exhibit if not for the way he’s biting his lip, mimicking her.
Instead, heat shoots through her at the way he watches her. He reaches up to push some hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear, then traces the line of her jaw with his fingertips with a tenderness she didn't know he possessed. She shivers, tugging his slacks down. Lucifer springs free from his confines and her mouth waters. She doesn’t give him a chance to make a smug comment about whether she likes what she sees—what did he say that night he walked out of his bedroom naked, offering himself up on a silver platter?
“The berries are ripe and ready for harvest!”
That night he wasn’t aroused, though; he definitely is now and yes, Chloe likes what she sees. But she wants to do more than look. She wraps a hand around him, his shuddering exhale gratifying, and tests the weight of him. Cocks aren’t pretty, as a rule, but this one is the exception. Lucifer is the exception to most of her rules, it seems.
Chloe strokes him slowly. He lets out a low groan that goes straight through her.
“Detective...” It’s the closest to begging as she’s ever heard him.
Leaning forward, she presses a kiss to just the tip and his hips jerk forward involuntarily. She likes that, so she does it again, then drags her tongue along the side of him. His quad muscles tighten in an attempt to not thrust. His breathing grows more shallow, mouth falling open. When she takes him into her mouth, the noise he makes doesn’t sound human.
Lucifer reaches for her, tentatively, curiously, just the side of her face as if he’s testing to see if she’s real or not. Long fingers curl beneath her chin, his thumb brushing her bottom lip, and he swallows hard, something she can’t quite identify in his eyes. Amazement? Awe? Or maybe she’s reading him all wrong.
Gently, he pulls her off him and leans down to capture her lips, his kiss the definition of sinful and filthy. The way he expertly licks into her mouth, not missing an inch. Bolts of heat shoot through her body down between her legs. At this point, it’s a wonder her panties haven’t disintegrated or burst into flames.
He pushes her just as gently back into the pillows, the tips of his fingers brushing the outsides of her thighs as he slides down her body again. Chloe watches him with half-lidded eyes, her heart beating loudly in her ears as he situates himself between her legs. When his tongue licks a stripe over her panties, she can’t swallow back her gasp.
Lucifer hums darkly. “I’ve thought about this from the moment you stepped up to my piano,” he murmurs, slowly removing her panties. Like he’s giving her the chance to change her mind or ask him to stop. Chloe doesn’t think she’s capable of asking him to stop, even if she wanted to—and she doesn’t. A flash of what she thinks might be relief passes through his eyes, too quick to be sure.
Chloe’s mouth falls open when he brings the panties to his nose and inhales deeply, his eyelashes fluttering and a low moan escaping his lips. His eyes open again and just for the tiniest, briefest of seconds, she swears they turn red. It was less than a blink, though, so she assumes it was her imagination or a trick of the light or—
Every thought in her head vanishes when she feels Lucifer’s tongue repeat what it did before. Only this time, without her panties, she really feels it. All the nerves in her body light up and her muscles go slack. She doesn’t bother trying to hold back her moans. Between his tongue on her, his hands pushing her legs further apart, and the sounds he’s making, she already knows this is going to be embarrassingly quick. It probably doesn’t help that she hasn’t been touched by another person in nearly a year—and Dan’s oral skills have nothing on what Lucifer is doing to her right now.
The best part about it is, she doesn’t have to guide him and there’s no frustration when he finds something she likes then moves away. Lucifer is as intuitive as he is working a case with her, like he knows exactly what she likes—and even what she didn’t know she likes.
Her hands scramble for purchase when she feels herself already building up to an orgasm. One finds the sheets beside her, the other tangles in Lucifer’s soft hair. He growls when she pulls a little, the sound reverberating through her. So she does it again, then scratches her nails lightly against his scalp so she can hear the noise again, feel it again. Lucifer doesn’t disappoint; he doubles down, sliding one finger inside her.
Chloe groans loudly at the feel of it, then he adds a second and moves his hand, pumping slowly while his tongue does something to her clit. Her body feels like a live wire, currents of electricity flowing through her nerves. His teeth graze against her at the same time as his fingers find a spot inside her that makes her jolt and cry out. (Was that her G-spot? She’s pretty sure nobody’s ever found that before.)
She can also feel the small smirk on his lips and looks down at his dark head moving between her thighs. As if he can feel her watching him, he angles himself to meet her gaze. Brown eyes are blown nearly to black, his face flushed. The corners of his eyes crinkle and she can feel his smile.
Not knowing what makes her do it, Chloe releases the sheet and cups his cheek, her thumb stroking his temple. The look in his eyes softens and he removes his lips from her long enough to press a tender, sweet kiss to her palm before getting back to work.
Lucifer curls his fingers, stroking that spot with every pass. Her head falls back to the pillow.
“Lucifer,” she moans.
His moan is even louder. “Again.” He says it like a demand, but there’s almost a plea in the word.
She says his name again, her fingers tightening in his hair as pressure quickly starts to build and spread from her core to the rest of her body. Her thighs close around his head; if he objects, he doesn’t say a word, one hand pressing against her belly when she arches into him, wanting, needing to get closer.
“Come for me, Detective,” he whispers against her clit, flicking his tongue and pumping his hand faster until she falls over the edge, crying out some garbled approximation of his name.
Lucifer works her through it, gentling his hand and mouth, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the insides of her thighs. The scratchiness of his scruff against her tender skin sends another jolt of pleasure through her.
Chloe opens her eyes and stares wide-eyed at the mirror-finish black ceiling. It’s not perfectly reflective, but she can make out the way his muscles move in his back. And those horrific scars marring his otherwise perfect skin—horrific because she has all sorts of theories about how he got them, despite his claim about them being ‘wing scars’.
Shaking those thoughts away, she reaches for his shoulders, tugging until he gets the hint. Lucifer crawls up her body, dropping kisses seemingly at random and stopping at her breasts to pay homage. She whimpers at the sensation, every part of her more sensitive, but he seems to know that and never pushes her over the edge of discomfort. Everything he does just feels...incredible. When he finally reaches her mouth, she doesn’t hesitate to kiss him, humming at the taste of herself on his tongue.
He brushes some hair out of her eyes, tucking it behind her ear. There’s a predictably smug smirk on his lips when he pulls away to look at her, which is belied by the look in his eyes. Chloe can’t quite decipher what that look means (maybe she doesn’t want to), but she suspects she might be projecting the affection in his eyes onto him from her own feelings.
“As good as you imagined?” he purrs, looking mightily pleased with himself. For once, she doesn’t deny that he’s earned that look. “Better?”
But that doesn’t mean she’s about to feed into his already massively huge ego. “It was all right,” she says dismissively, shrugging her shoulder.
Lucifer’s mouth drops open in offense, his eyes dancing with amusement. “How dare you. I suspect that was the best head you’ve ever experienced.”
Okay, he isn’t wrong. “And you would know that, how?”
He ducks down to graze his teeth along her neck. “By the sounds you made when you came against my mouth, for one,” he says, his voice low and silky. It makes her stomach muscles tighten and heat flow between her thighs again. “The look in your eyes, for another.”
Faintly, she wonders what he saw in her eyes to make him think that, but isn’t about to ask. Ridiculous though it may be, she wants more. Wants to feel all of him. Reaching between them, she wraps her hand around him. He’s harder than he was before and she bites her lip in anticipation. His head drops to her shoulder, mouth falling open as she strokes him.
“Condom?” she whispers, nipping at his earlobe.
Lucifer practically dives for the bedside table, ripping open a drawer with so much force she’s surprised he didn't yank it all the way out. A giggle leaves her lips—Chloe Decker, badass Detective and mom...giggling. He shoots her a grin over his shoulder.
“Any kind in particular, Detective? There’s your regular, boring variety, along with glow-in-the-dark, ribbed, flavored (the watermelon is quite lovely), spiked, warming, and I seem to be out of the THC ones. Oooh, you might like the ticklers...”
Chloe blinks. She didn’t know there were so many...varieties. Her curiosity gets the better of her, but she also knows better than to ask. Knowing him, he’ll give her a long-winded lecture on condom types, their effects, and the history behind each one. “Um, maybe just one of the regular ones?”
She expects him to pout or whine about her boring tastes, or encourage her to broaden her horizons. Again, she’s surprised when he doesn’t; he simply makes a selection and rejoins her, sitting back on his knees to put it on.
Feeling bold, she sits up and reaches for the package before he can open it. He blinks down at her as she rolls the rubber over him, biting his lip. “Hmm, you’re quite good at that,” he purrs, pushing her back to the pillows again. “Then again, you’re good at most things, Detective.”
Warmth that has nothing to do with sex shoots through her at the genuine, sincere compliment. His fingers find her core again and slide inside easily, preparing her. He kisses her again, not the wild, filthy, almost desperate kiss from before; this is...tender, intimate. Sweet. Chloe tries to ignore the way her heart flips and squeezes.
Which is...not good. This is supposed to be a one-time thing. To get it out of their systems.
It doesn’t feel that way for her.
Chloe kisses him harder, pushing those thoughts from her mind. Lucifer’s fingers disappear from her, then he’s lining himself up with her entrance, eyes locked with hers as he sinks into her. She gasps at the feel of him, the stretch and oh-so-good burn. He’s gentle, careful not to hurt her. He pulls back about halfway in, checking that she’s comfortable, then pushes back inside, inch by inch.
When he’s fully seated, he pauses, his mouth dropped open, a look of bliss shivering across his expression. That warmth from before intensifies along with a feeling of being complete she’s never experienced with anybody else.
This is so not good...
But it feels too good to stop. And anyway, they're long past the point of no return.
“You feel incredible,” he whispers, his voice shaking just a touch. “Are you all right?”
Chloe nods against his shoulder, fingernails digging into his waist. “Yeah. Just...gimme a second.”
“Take your time,” he murmurs, kissing along the side of her face.
He stays perfectly still, giving her time to adjust. Once she does, once her muscles begin to relax, she lifts her legs to wrap around his hips, locking her feet behind him, and moans at the change in angle, the feeling of him sliding even deeper.
“Okay,” she gasps. “I’m okay.”
Lucifer begins to move slowly, watching her intently for any signs of discomfort, and she moves with him. The low, dark hum that rumbles from his chest makes her shiver, as does the way his hands wander along her sides. He reaches for one of her hands, pulling it from his waist to entwine their fingers, bringing their joined fists to rest beside her head.
They quickly find a rhythm they both like, and if Chloe didn’t know better, she’d say they’d done this a hundred times before and will do it a hundred times more. It’s like nothing she’s ever felt and she tries to ignore the feelings already starting to erupt in her heart, knowing nothing good can come from that. It’s just...it feels like they complement each other in every way, like they were made for each other. Not just this, but the way they work together at crime scenes and how they get along outside work.
Chloe is toeing an incredibly dangerous line right now and she needs to get out of her head.
“I’m like walking heroin. Very habit-forming.”
She believes that wholeheartedly.
“It never ends well.”
She believes that, too.
“Are you with me, Detective?” he asks, his tongue tracing the shell of her ear.
Chloe nods. “Yeah,” she pants. “Yeah, I’m with you.”
Lucifer looks completely wrecked. His hair a riot of curls. Eyes blown completely black, just the thinnest ring of brown left. His skin is flushed and there’s a sheen of sweat building on his forehead.
He’s beautiful...
Lifting her head from the pillow, she kisses him, her free hand tangling in his hair again. He moans into her mouth, snapping his hips faster. One of his arms slides beneath her, angling her, and he slips even deeper. She cries out his name and he licks it from her mouth.
Releasing her hand, his moves to her shoulder blades and then he’s lifting her, settling onto his knees and bringing her into his lap. His kiss is ravenous, like he’s trying to devour her whole. She wraps an arm around his shoulders without thinking, her fingers grazing one of his scars.
Lucifer shouts and his thrusts sharpen.
“Sorry,” she whispers quickly, relocating her hand. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She knows he doesn’t like his scars touched—
“Again,” he growls, resting his forehead to hers. “Do it again. Please.”
Brow furrowed, she tentatively slides her hand down to the very edge of one scar and he whines, asking for more. Her palm is flattened against one scar and he bucks into her, groaning her name. Her real name, not ‘Detective’.
“Chloe...”
Every movement of his cock inside her catches every spot he found earlier with his fingers and she’s catapulted into a universe where there’s nothing but pleasure and him and her. Everything else could cease to exist around them, and neither would notice.
Lucifer lays her back on the mattress, a raw, almost vulnerable look in his eyes she’s never seen before. And the sounds he makes, like he’s never felt anything better than her.
And look, she knows it’s ridiculous. The man has more sex in a week than most people do in months. But she can’t deny she feels it, too. Wants to keep feeling it until the end of time itself.
“Almost there,” she moans, pressing her face to his shoulder. “Lucifer...almost there.”
He groans, one hand leaving her to reach for the headboard to give him more leverage for his thrusts. His face is scrunched adorably, mouth hanging open. “Yes,” he hisses. Ducking his head down, he kisses her, all teeth and tongue, and it’s as hot as the rest of what she’s experienced. He rests his forehead to hers, his free hand working its way between them to unerringly find her clit.
A whimper falls from Chloe’s lips as he presses and rubs. Stars erupt behind her eyes and heat rushes from her core, burning in the best way possible. With one more sharp thrust, she comes, crying out and arching against him, pulling him as close as she can get him.
Another one of those inhuman sounds leaves his throat, his eyebrows furrowed as he watches her. She manages to open her eyes, holding his gaze as she struggles to catch her breath, waves of heat and pleasure rolling through her still.
Chloe kisses him, wanting him to feel what she did. Lucifer’s thrusts falter and turn erratic as he chases his own release, gripping her to him tightly. With a final snap of his hips, he buries himself inside her, groaning loudly. He drops his head to her slope of her shoulder, moaning her name as he shudders in her arms. She kisses his face, petting his hair as he comes down.
Lucifer lifts his head, the light in his eyes brighter than she’s ever seen it. Her heart does that flipping, squeezing thing again. He opens his mouth as if to say something, even takes a breath, but then, he shakes his head, kissing her instead. A slow, lazy kiss, like he’s savoring her again.
He sighs as he drops down beside her, his fingers tracing abstract shapes on her belly. The sensation makes her shiver and that makes him smile. “Well,” he huffs, “so much for ‘never, ever’ sleeping with me. What was it you said, Detective? ‘When Hell freezes over, Lucifer.’” He imitates her voice, high-pitched and feminine, smirking like the smug bastard he is.
Chloe rolls her eyes, but can’t fight the way her lips twitch. “Maybe I was just desperate.”
“Hmm. I don’t think so. I think you finally gave in to your desires for once. Stopped overthinking every little situation and embraced your impulsive side. And furthermore...” He pauses for dramatic effect. “I think you enjoyed it, Detective. More than you’re willing to admit.”
There is not a force in this universe that will ever convince her to tell him he’s dead-on in his assessment. Her next words are out of her mouth before she can even stop to consider them. “Did you enjoy it, too?” she asks, unable to meet his gaze.
Lucifer doesn’t speak for a few moments, then he pinches her chin between his thumb and forefinger, turning her to look at him. His expression softens, not the smug one he wore a few seconds ago but something tender and genuine. “I did,” he admits in a murmur. “I enjoyed it very much, Detective. And I would very much like to do it again.” He pauses, that soft look growing even more so. “I've never—” He doesn't finish his sentence, just gives her a little almost sweet half-smile. “If you'd like to, that is.”
Chloe searches his expression, unsure what she's looking for, that feeling of ‘this is really not good’ rushing back. She gets the feeling that isn't even close to what he was going to say, but she doesn't push, answering his question instead. “I mean, we said one night, right?” she asks, feeling uncharacteristically shy. “Then back to normal? So...”
He grins. “So...round two, then?” he purrs hopefully, leaning over her until his lips are a hairsbreadth from hers. “There are still many, many things I have to show you, Detective. Things I’ve thought of doing to and with you. What do you say?”
Probably, she should say no. Get out of his bed, put her clothes back on, and go home. But the adorably disheveled look of him coupled with her body practically begging for more wins out. She tangles her fingers in his hair again and kisses him. “Round two,” she breathes against his grinning lips.