A/N: Y'all, in case you didn't see the rating, this is some truly M rated shit, okay? This is the last chapter. Reviews make me incredibly happy. Let's all go kill Pierce! Yeah!

"Love is not a muscle—
it cannot atrophy from lack of use.

Love is an organ—it can always sneak up
on you; the lungs are a much better metaphor for love,
please, always use them—

that inhale is the moment of excitement
when you first meet someone new—
the exhale is that moment of hate we all fear
we will feel if this does not work out

but that moment between breath,
where your body can be anything, that—

that is love.

Love is… … …"

— Excerpt from "Love" by Jared Singer

He was going to kill her.

Bloody, meddling Raziel and her machinations.

Lucifer threw a silent prayer her way—one filled with a plethora of swears in the old language of Angels, far before Babel. If he listened carefully enough, he was certain that he could hear the quaint tintinnabulation of her high, light little laugh as carried by the warm current of wind that entered through his penthouse's open terrace.

The pair of them stared at each other and the tension between them hung in the air like an uninvited houseguest.

Chloe wore her long hair down. In the dimly lit dark of his penthouse, the waves of her hair looked like the reflection of sunlight against the sea—molten sunrise cascading down her shoulders. Her off-white almost-turtleneck jumper looked impossibly soft to the touch. Lucifer swallowed, momentarily unable to speak.

"You… busy?" she asked, finally.

"N-no. I was just—" he replied, gesturing vaguely. In the back of his mind, he was somewhat embarrassed to have been caught in such a state of underdress. He wasn't even wearing a jacket over his long sleeved shirt and his vest was in desperate need of being pressed. And what was the state of his hair? He didn't even know and he perished the thought.

He licked his lips and put on a showman's smile, changing the subject, as he started folding in the sleeves of his shirt until they were rolled up past his elbow.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Detective? Surprise murder case that couldn't wait until morning?"

"No, nothing like that," she said. Almost shyly, a wide but trembling smile on her lips that she pressed together. "I… actually thought your sister would be here."

Lucifer cocked his head with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "If you're looking for Raziel, I'm afraid you just missed her."

She didn't miss the bitterness hidden between his lines. He was, after all, the most transparent man she knew. Especially to her. He was not a play, he was not a carousel of acts in a carnival of lies. His sister said that he wore his heart on his sleeve just lately had he kept his arms up before him, en garde, as if bracing himself for impact.

She saw it now—Chloe has always seen his heart. She knows when it is breaking.

"No, no, I wasn't. I—" she clarified, quick to jump in. She brought the basket up with considerable and rested it atop the bar. "She came over this morning, actually. She made us scones?"

He chuckled softly at that, rolling his eyes as he pocketed his hands.

"Of course she did."

"If she were here, I would've—I don't know, returned this basket?"

"Oh, hello," he said, approaching the basket with a scrutinising stare. After giving it a long, hard look, he pouted his lips and shrugged. "From the craftsmanship, I would wager that the little bugger made this basket herself."

"What?" she said. "You… can't be serious."

"In millennial speak, I believe she would be, as they say… that extra," he said. Chloe laughed and only then did mirth return to his gaze as he added, "With a trademark at the end there as well!"

She kept her smile as looked up at him, biting her lip.

A beat later, he said, "And knowing my sister, she probably meant for you to keep this. You don't have to return it."

"Oh," she said simply. "Well… okay. That works out then, I guess."

Chloe clapped her hands together, palms sweaty as they brushed against each other over her chest. She swallowed; the air around them, thick and heavy with words unsaid.

It never used to be this hard to speak to him.

Being with Lucifer was the easiest goddamn thing in the world, even back when she didn't harbour any of these… feelings. These truths that have developed so much into fact that she could not shy away from them any longer. The only obstacles they had to hurdle over were themselves.

'Chains of your own making,' she remembered Raziel saying. 'You can set yourself free.'

Then why was it so goddamn hard to even look at him?

Every instinct told her to run—to embrace the fear and run for high heavens. If you don't open yourself up to pain, you don't get fucking hurt. Again. But Chloe Decker found herself staying, awkwardly shuffling her heeled feet on his immaculate floor, all out of small talk with the only thing she had left to say being what she wanted to come here to say to him in the first place.

"You didn't come all the way to my humble abode just to return a picnic basket, did you?" he tried to joke, teasing it out of her with, "Hate to think you made the trip just to—"

She broke.

"Lucifer, I wanted to see you," she said, finally.

He blinked once, eyes wide with surprise, lips parted with silence and held breath in between them.

"Oh?" was all he could say.

"I mean—you drop by my house often enough? Usually without invitation," she followed up, forced levity in her own tone. In the Lucifer School of 'Dealing with Emotions', joking about things that felt too real seemed to work out just fine for him. But something about it did not fit right in her mouth and so, bits and pieces of the truth fell from her lips anyway.

"Not that I'm complaining—though a heads up every now and then would be great... I just thought it might be nice to return the favour," she said, slowly pulling at her finger. Nervous habit. "And hey, you've got better booze."

"That I do..." he said, a faraway look in his eyes. There was a tightness in her chest, and so there too was in his.

"I was actually…" he started to say.

"Yeah?" she said, stepping forward.

"My sister… She—" he said. Lucifer swallowed. "She didn't put you up to this, did she?"

"What? No, I—" she started but a lump formed just by her throat. Perhaps, it was in his eyes—in the way he looked at her. He held nothing back. Dark, full of emotion—almost pleading, she would say. Desperate for this to be real. Just like she was. Chloe licked her lips and said, "Well, okay, kind of? I guess? But not really… I think she definitely wanted me to. She's not exactly subtle. She just… she said some things. And it just got me thinking."

A flash, a flicker of a smile on his face. His shoulders relaxed.

"You too, then?" he asked.

"She, uh…" she returned but doubled back, throwing him a look. "Wait—what did she say to you?"

"Just some things I…" he replied. "Things I think I already knew?" A pause. "I knew I already knew, actually, but I kept denying them, and… there really is no use lying when my sister is around. She knows far too much and she just gives you that look. Makes me wish she'd gotten here about two months ago."

"She's… really something."

"That she is," he said with a sigh. He mindlessly flipped the lid of the basket and saw that it was near overflowing inside. He quirked his brows and pouted. "Detective, this is full. Surely her baking isn't that awful?"

"No! Her scones were great! I…" Chloe tried. "I—I brought you dinner?"

"Detective." Amusement now rose to his irises—there was a wonder there, an enchantment. An incredulity about that tried to see if this was real, that this was really happening. He made a sound of along those lines in the form of a quick, sharp but nervous laugh.

"I mean—it's like, for sharing, obviously, but I, uh—" she said, her hands on the basket's handle. "I made it myself? And I know, I know, I'm not… I don't have your… fancy, British culinary expertise or whatever? But, in my defense, I make a mean homemade mac n cheese."

"Detective, darling, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you sound nervous," he said.

It was not a mockery of her; on the contrary, he was beguiled. Endeared. It made his eyes shine. Chloe felt a rush of heat rise to her cheeks and she knit her brows in a frown that didn't leave her smiling lips.

"I don't," she denied, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"You know I'm not teasing you," he said. "Takes one to know one, I guess."

"What could you be nervous about?"

"I…" he started but found no words could leave him. Chloe smiled at him, her full lips pressed together, patient as always. He looked into those big, blue eyes and sighed. "I'm not used to this, I suppose." He picked up the basket with one hand as if it barely weighed anything. He kept his other hand in his trousers' pocket. "I'll plate this up then, shall I?"

"Okay," she agreed. "Want some help?"

"That's alright, Detective. I shan't keep you waiting long," he said, walking to the back of his bar where his kitchen was. "Perhaps, if you'd care to choose our accompanying beverage. As you said, I do have superior booze. Take your pick. Whatever you like."

"I don't speak wine, Lucifer," she called out, looking to his more than impressive collection on the shelves. Despite her lack of knowledge, the names on these labels are enough for her to know that a bottle of these is easily worth three paychecks at least. And that's maybe just for the corks. She'd always known he was rich but… well, damn. "Or any alcohol for that matter?"

"Well… reds pair well with cheeses if you'd like my input!" he answered from the back. She heard the tell-tale noises of plates against marble, of silverware against porcelain. He added, "Every bottle in here is certified Lucifer-approved so have at it!"

Chloe looked at the wine cooler just by the edge of his bar. After fiddling with the controls, she managed to get out the first bottle she saw.

Screaming Eagle Cabernet 1992.

She gave it a hard, long look and as the rest of the bottles looked identical to her anyway, she shrugged and closed the wine cooler's doors. She took two wine glasses and walked to the terrace overlooking the city.

In the dark, the lights of Los Angeles' cityscape looked like stars.

"Here we go," she said to no one in particular as she set down the wine and glasses on the table. From beneath her sweater, she pulled out the bullet necklace he'd given to her for her birthday. She fumbled with the metal in her fingers and then clutched it into her hand.

A cool breeze drifted to where she was standing and she thought she might have to brace herself but instead, the wind felt warm—like an embrace.

Like comfort.

Like courage.

The Devil and the Detective sat down opposite each other eating homemade mac n cheese on elegant fine china, dining with real silverware, sipping on red wine that was obnoxiously expensive. They shared secret looks, knowing smiles, and not much else.

It wasn't a gourmet meal, not by any means, but eating together felt genuine. And, for a while, the two only ate in silence. They exchanged some small talk here and there but they shared a relaxed quiet between them—the language of comfort between two souls who did not have to fill in the space with forced niceties. And in this space, they felt safe—untouchable by Heaven and Hell, a universe of their own making.

Though it could not always last for very long and soon enough, the air around them hung heavy. As if the breeze were a living entity, breathing down their necks, begging them to just get on with it. Chloe felt that pressure and she imagined that so did he. But neither one of them wanted to be the one to break it first—it was too nice of a moment.

Then, Lucifer cleared his throat. Chloe swallowed.

"So, where's Beatrice tonight?" he asked, spooning another mouthful in.

"With Dan for the weekend," she answered.

"And Mazikeen?"

"Don't know," she said. "Probably with your sister?"

"Ah. Really?" he said, pondering. Another spoonful in, he gestured at her with his fork as he swallowed and said, "Making her way around the family, isn't she, our Mazikeen? For what it's worth, Raziel would be much more compatible companion for her than Amenadiel. They both possess an extensive knowledge of female—"

"Lucifer," Chloe chided softly, cutting him off. She shook her head.

"What?"

"I didn't come here to talk about your sister," she said. "Or… anyone else, really."

He blinked. Somehow, she noted just how impossibly long his eyelashes were—especially when he looked at her like that, sincerity radiating off of him like sunbeams. "Then what did bring you here?"

"You," she answered quickly, simply.

A pin drop could be heard in the silence that followed. His penthouse was so high up that not even Los Angeles' traffic could permeate and invade the setting of shared serenity they had created.

He straightened his spine at her answer, plate at hand resting precariously at the shift in his balance. When she said it out loud, it didn't sound quite as frightening as it felt and yet, saying it felt so simple in hindsight. So easy. So good.

"Listen, I…" Chloe started. With her own fork, she started moving around the food on her plate—unable to look him in the eye.

She spoke with hesitation, with uncertainty. After all, despite his many affirmations that he harboured no grudge against her and never thought less of her for what had happened with Pierce—you cannot just look someone you'd hurt in the eye and it didn't matter if it wasn't intentional. He tiptoed with her now when there was no work between them and she'd felt it.

She'd missed him.

He might as well know that she did.

"We don't really hang out now. Just us. Without all the police work and the murders and everything else, and after all of that stuff with… well, you know, and I… I don't know. I just thought it would be… nice."

She knocked her knees with his, finding it in herself to give him a small smile. He knew exactly what she was talking about – the man that had no so much as caused the rift between them as much as he did make a home in it while it suited his own needs, all the while causing the both of them immense pain in the aftermath of it all – and when she said it out loud, to him, everything got easier to say.

"I like spending time with you, Lucifer," she confessed, finally meeting his awestruck gaze. "If that's okay."

His lips twitched to a small smile while hers brightened at the sight of the shine coming from his deep, dark eyes.

"I could think of worse ways to spend Saturday night," he uttered softly. Fork down on the plate and then the plate on the nearby table; he rested a hand gingerly atop her knee. He licked his lips, leaned forward to her, and said, "Detective, I—"

"Chloe," she interrupted. She put down her plate by her wine glass and leaned into him as well, resting her own hand against the back of his. "Please. We're not at work."

"Chloe," he said, the taste of her name on his tongue was a flavour he relished. He turned his hand around so that he could hold hers. His thumb brushed against her knuckles. Lucifer could feel the tremble in them but when he looked into those bright blue eyes, he saw no fear. "…Is this a date?"

"I…"

A pause.

Déjà vu, if she'd ever recognised it, and their faces were so close.

She felt her heart hammer in her chest and she could feel the slight shake of her limbs just by sheer proximity to him, she gathered. Her lower lip trembled and she bit it between her teeth. She didn't miss the way his gaze drifted to that action and how his eyes darkened ever more at the sight of it.

But he was wrong – there was fear. Not fear of him but fear of this. Whatever this was. Whatever this could be.

And in the wind, all she could hear was that same reminder from the night before. Don't be afraid, it said. So, she swallowed, ducked her head down to hide her grin, and said—

"Yes?"

His answering grin could have outshone the sun. Lucifer perked up and said, "Splendid!"

Chloe laughed and gave his fingers a little squeeze. "I figured I owed you one, after…"

"Chloe, darling, you don't owe me a damn thing," he said. He dared to lean in closer, suggestion heavy in his lilt, charm dripping from his honeyed tongue. "Have any specific… activities in mind?"

She took her hand away from his and leaned away, laughter on her lips as she gave an amused but disbelieving shake of her head. She should have expected this – and, in hindsight, she did – and yet that didn't stop the flutter of a heartbeat in her chest, the heat in every part of her as if she could feel her blood boiling beneath her skin.

Lucifer thought she flushed so, so prettily.

The colouring of her in soft white, the faintest rosy pink in her cheeks, and her plump, full lips that he knew to be so deliciously soft against his—he'd damn near do anything to keep her exactly like this, exactly this happy, for all the rest of time eternal.

He simply flashed his devilish grin, pleased with her mirth.

"Not the things you're thinking," she playfully retorted.

He leaned back himself, a hand against his heart with his features contorted in mocking disgust.

"Sweetheart, I take offense in that," he said. "I've played Monopoly with you and your spawn of my own personal volition. I'm not always as concupiscent as my reputation dictates." Chloe laughed, looking away from him and grinning from ear to ear that her cheeks started to hurt. He raised a finger to her, to gesture as he added, "And, to be clear, I quite like spending time with you too. Clothed or not, despite there never having been record of the latter."

She quirked her brows and her head bobbled as if contemplating on that. She reached for her wine glass, looked up as if to consider it, and returned her gaze to him with a tease of her own.

"Well, not never," she said, taking a sip of her wine.

"Touché," he said, reaching for the plate of food. He gathered a mouthful to his fork and said, "Not exactly the naked fun time that I was thinking but that's fair."

He ate the food and as he chewed, she asked, "How is it?"

"I'll admit, I was a bit worried," he admitted.

"Oh really…" she said, narrowing her eyes. Her jaw dropped and she mimicked his false expression of offence and teased him right back. "You think I'm a terrible cook!"

"Now, now. I never said you were, love," he argued. "But you do purchase a lot of your lunches from the precinct's vending machine. And you are Caucasian so I'm afraid that works against your favour in this regard."

She rolled her eyes and shrugged her shoulders.

"Fair enough," she said. Jokingly, she added, "At least there aren't any raisins?"

"And you used more than salt! I'm really proud of you," he said. "But it is delicious." She squinted at him. Lucifer, unfazed, looked her in the eye and said, "You know I don't lie."

"I'll have you know I even used my fanciest cheese for you," she said, swirling the wine in her glass.

Already, she was starting to feel the faint buzz of warmth from the wine as the alcohol coursed through her veins. She was no lightweight by any means but that wine was some truly good shit.

"You honour me," he said. With gusto, he finished the last of the mac n cheese on his plate, and when he swallowed, he gestured with his fingers on his lips in an affected kiss to the air. "Positively scrumptious."

"I'll cheers to that," she said. He took his glass and clinked it with hers.

After a sip, she licked her lips. Lucifer tried not to concentrate on the fact that the wine, the lip biting, and the smiling had made her lips just that much more red. Succulent. He didn't even try to hide that he was staring just a little bit, the tip of his tongue running along his bottom lip.

"Not bad for a second date?" she asked, raising a brow.

"Mmm," he said. "The first one being—"

"When your horny flight attendant friend dropped by."

"Yes, that," he said. "Does that really count? Can this be a do over instead?"

"Hmm, let me think about that…"

"Oh, come on now," he whined.

"Okay," she said. "First date. Officially. No… surprise visitors, no—murders?"

"That you have to attend to."

"Yeah, all of that," she agreed. "Just…"

"Us."

"Sound good?"

"Sounds divine."

"And…" she started, biting the edge of her lower lip. "Slow."

"Slow?"

"This… us," she said. "If… if we're going to do this… can we… take it slow?"

"Whatever do you mean?"

"I mean…" she said, the rim of her wine glass against her lower lip. "I don't want to rush things. After…"

His entire face darkened. His posture straightened and stiffened.

"Understood," he said. "Of course."

"I'll have you know, though," she said, knocking his knee with hers. "I don't usually put out on a first date."

"Oh," he said. "Well. Disappointing. But… fair cop."

"Really? That's it?" she said. "No objections? Begging?"

"Chloe, darling, if you want me to beg, I'd be more than happy to oblige you any kink you desire," he said in a manner that both made her want to laugh but also told her that that was no exaggeration. "But I'm the Devil; I'm not evil. I know when no means no. I don't push."

"I know. I know you don't," she said. "Thanks."

"Besides, I've waited this long. I've fucked up my fair share of chances, as it were," he said, casual and almost flippant. Nothing mean-spirited about it. He was simply stating things he believed to be factual. Lucifer offered her a little smile, a faint twinkle in his eye.

"I'll wait for as long as you want me to."

Well, fuck.

That did it.

He'd spoken so purely, so earnestly that it damn near broke her heart. Because Lucifer never lied – and she knew that for her, he would wait. Mr Sex-on-Legs himself would turn celibate if she asked. He'd go to hell for her if she asked (and she didn't know that he'd already had—twice over). A weight dropped in the pit of her stomach and it yearned to fly out from her lips—an unspoken and overdue confession begging to be set free.

Chloe swallowed and set her glass down. He noted the change in her posture immediately and he mimicked her actions, setting his glass down as well, and taking both her hands in his. Her shoulders curled into themselves as she gave a sharp exhale through the nose.

"Lucifer, look, I…" she started. "I need to tell you something."

"Wait," he said suddenly, his grip on her clasped hands tightening.

"Lucifer…" she tried but he had his head ducked low.

"I know," he said, looking back up at her. "I know what you—" He licked his lips. "I know."

Something primordial stirred inside her—an ancient, knowing kind of fluttering. Almost an instinct but it felt more like a memory from a dream. The way he looked at her then had her heart beating in her chest the way a hummingbird flapped its wings. She could hear the echo of its beat all the way up in her ears but there was something to the way he'd said that that told her there was more. So—

"But…?" she prodded.

"If you're…" he said. It was his arms' turn to shake. He scooted closer to her but found that that was not enough. Lucifer got then on his knees, almost as if in worship—he could practically hear the sermons of contrition in the back of his head.

This was it, he knew. He'd known from the moment that she stepped into his penthouse that this had to happen before anything else and yet, and yet—the fear lingered. A primeval beckoning to fly far, far away from that of which made him feel so afraid. He licked his lips and looked to her eyes, as if praying for courage.

Let me be brave, he prayed to her.

A warm wind drifted toward the terrace and wrapped them both in its embrace. The moon shone brightly above them in a starry, cloudless, California night sky. Just as good a setting as any for a confession like this.

Let Heaven be his goddamn witness.

"I need to be honest with you. I want to be honest with you. Properly honest, in a way that you'll actually believe me. Before anything else, I—I need that. I need to do right by you, like you deserve. And before I can ever even hope for anything… truly more with you, I need you to know who I am. What I am."

She closed her eyes and sighed through her nose. "Lucifer, we've been over this—"

"No, Chloe…" he said, bringing her hands to his forehead, then pressing his lips to her knuckles, then pressing her hands against his cheeks. He rested his chin atop her clasped hands then and begged her through pleading, bright eyes. "Please, darling, please let me do this."

"Okay," she said, nodding and watching him with bated breath.

"I…" he started. "I thought I knew what my Hell was until I saw you with—with him. And when you told me that with him… that you lo—"

"Lucifer,"

"Ever since, I've desperately wanted to tell you but I didn't want you to feel like I was taking advantage of you while you were vulnerable. It was just… never the right time. And I suppose, it'll never be the right time, so here goes anyway. And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, my love."

He kissed her hands again and she gave him a watery smile.

"I have been honest with you… from the start. A bit of omission, some bluffing here and there, yes, but I…" he said, licking his lips and swallowing. Fear kept building up in his chest and it was all he could to do just keep swallowing it all down. "I've always been honest with you. It's just—you never seem to believe me. And for a while now, that's worked in my favour. I'd given up trying to make you see… well, me.

"Nearly broke Linda when I told her. Charlotte took it fairly well—in hindsight, I suppose this way is better—you don't really deserve to see the face of the Devil, you're far too good to have to deal with that in your memories. Linda really drew the short end of the stick on that one," he said with a sharp laugh that did not quite reach his eyes. She could feel his hands shaking and all the while, her heart beat harder and faster in her chest. Her lips trembled and her whole body shook, try as she might to stop it. "And I know this is really, really confusing for you right now and I apologise, Chloe. Truly."

She took her hand from his grasp to rest her palm against his cheek, her thumb stroking his stubble covered skin. He leaned into her touch, his exhales becoming shaky.

His own heart felt as if it might implode at any given moment and yet, it wasn't in his heart that he'd felt the most of the emotion. It was in his lungs. Every inhale had him remembering the taste of her lips, the flavour of her name on his tongue, the fluttering of her laughter that he kept in his chest. Every exhale, every relief that had come when he'd realise that she was safe—that she was still here.

In the space between – in the moment between breath and every moment thereafter – was when he loved her.

She deserved to know; he knew that now.

In his long, long life in this universe, these were emotions that he'd never truly felt before. Even for his own Father, He had never felt this kind of adoration. His palms had become sweaty and his knees started to ache but he looked up at her still, unable and unwilling to let go of this chance.

"For a while, I… I just didn't want to lose you. I don't want you to get hurt. And I was afraid of what would happen if… when you find out," he said, a tear falling from his eyes. It took that for her to realise that she was crying too. "I want you to know what you'd be getting yourself into—wholly. If you choose me. Because I may be reckless and obstinate to my own self-righteousness to a fault but you… you are the first thing in my life that I have ever been truly afraid to lose."

"God, Lucifer…" she whispered, tucking her lips in.

"I don't deserve you, Chloe Decker. And I know that. I know that I don't," he said, letting go of how she'd just had to mention his Father's name, but he could not be distracted. This was far more important than Him. So, finally, he said, "But I want you."

She inhaled sharply. "Oh, boy."

"I want you," he said. "But before you… even consider wanting me back… or choosing me… I need—no, I want for you to know who I am. What I am."

"Lucifer, whatever it is—" she started, emotion in her throat making her choke up, but he cut her off.

"Don't," he begged. "Please don't… because you don't know, love, and I—I don't think I could take it if you… say it… and then find out, and then leave. I'm not—" he paused, ducking his head and resting his forehead on her knees, as he collected himself. She could feel him trembling before her. And he whispered, "I'm not strong enough for that."

Chloe pried him from his position of prayer and lifted his head so he would look up and face her. She leaned in and said, "There is… nothing you could say. Or do. Or be… that could make me want to be anywhere else but here."

She put her hand back against his cheek.

"I'm here for you, Lucifer. Always. You won't ever lose me, I promise."

"Chloe…" he whispered in reverence, rising to his feet and freeing her hand from his grasp. As he did, he pressed a kiss against her forehead and the top of her head. He spoke with a sense of calm, then. He stopped shaking and when he towered over her like that with the pale moon lighting his form, she very nearly believed in Angels after all.

"I won't come near you unless you say so. Say the word and I…" he said. Lucifer inhaled and sighed. "You'll never have to see me again, I swear to you." He clasped his hands in front of him and rested them over his stomach. His dark eyes met hers – so bright, so blue, and so beautiful. He memorised how she looked up at him in that moment – nervous and expectant at the same time – and he braced himself for her fear.

"Please, darling… please don't be afraid of me," he prayed one last time.

With a shrug of his shoulders, he unfurled his wings.

"Holy shit," she cursed, nearly falling back over herself but catching herself at the last second.

"That's one way to put it," he muttered.

True to his word as ever, Lucifer did not budge. He stood before her – majestic in his discipline, a divine sight to behold – and Chloe simply stared. For however beautiful his wings here, they were nothing to the glory of him. For the pure white of his wings made him look so bright, as if light emanated from him—her own personal sun.

Lucifer, she remembered from back in those forced Cathecism classes in middle school… Light Bringer. It made sense.

To look upon him like this was to believe in God Himself but lose her faith in the divine in the same breath. For in his eyes was not pride of an arrogant Angel cast down from the Heavens, but fear—a fear that this one thing, this one revelation could be his own personal apocalypse. Forget ice, forget fire – losing her to fear of him would have been a Hell even he could not survive.

She choked on a breath as she swallowed; trying to regain what sense of self had flown away to whatever ethereal plane of existence his wings had emerged from.

"Lucifer, I…" she said as she tried to stand on wobbly knees as she faced him. He still did not move. She reached up as if to touch them, but stopped herself, and looked back at him for his permission. "Could I…?"

He gave a curt nod, his eyes still gleaming with uncertainty as he watched her with a hyperfocused eye, aware of any twitch that might suggest that she would run from him. And she didn't.

When her fingers made contact with the impossibly soft and smooth feathers that connected to the bone, he shivered. He could not help the moan that escaped his lips as she touched his wings. His eyes widened and his dark pupils dilated.

"Does it hurt?" she asked.

"No," he answered. "They're just… sensitive. To you in particular." A pause. As he adjusted his posture to accommodate the sensation, his wings shook a little in accordance with the movement. It was enough to make her choke out a little laugh. He added, "That's… actually quite new."

She walked around him; the soft blade of her fingertips barely brushing against his feathers, and saw how his wings protruded from his back. This was no trick of the light or optical illusion. This was some real shit, she thought, and she didn't quite know how she was still upright at this point.

Before her was an actual, proper Angel of the Lord – the first damned creature in existence, the first Fallen Angel. And he had offered himself and his whole heart to her on a platter, his feathers were hers to touch and explore, and he was hers.

He was hers.

"So you're…" said Chloe as she came back around to face him. "You're actually…"

"Lucifer Morningstar," he finished for her. "At your service."

"The scars…" she said. "From before."

"Ah, yes, I had them cut off then. But they grew back. Remember when I went missing and got kidnapped? They reappeared then," he answered. "Surprise little present from my Father, I imagine. There's no real way to get a reply from Him. He doesn't exactly have a return address."

"Oh, my God," she said.

"That's the one, yes."

"Holy shit," she whispered. She placed her hands on his chest, her touch drifting along the fabric of his silk vest, his white button down shirt. "Wow," she muttered. Her hands snaked up his neck and to his cheeks. It took everything for him to remain standing as he was but as her hands on his chest explored, he bit back a whine and tried to swallow it down.

"Angel is a little better than an axe murderer which was, I'll admit, a fear."

"You're not…" he started. He tilted his head, knit his brows, and bore his eyes into hers. "You're not scared?"

"No," she answered simply. "Never."

"But…" he said, his fingers digging into his palm as he kept his hands firmly to himself. "Why?"

"Do you want me to be scared?"

"No," he answered quickly. "But… I'm the Devil! Satan Himself! Lord of Hell for crying out loud! I just so happen to not have my devil face anymore but the point stands."

"And what is the point?" she asked.

"Well…" he said, losing words just as quickly as he thought of them. "When humans see me, they tend to think they're going to Hell. And then the begging starts. The denial. The fear."

"So, those people…" she said, realisation creeping up her spine like a snake. "You mean like Jimmy Barnes…"

"Saw me for what I really am."

"And so you thought that I…"

"It's a fairly standard reaction, Chloe. You can hardly blame me for preparing for the worst."

"No, I don't blame you, but…" she started. "Lucifer, do you trust me?"

"You know I trust you," he said.

"Then trust that I know who you are. I have always known who you are—I know what counts. And I trust myself enough to believe that you are not…" she said. "You're not what was done to you."

"So, you don't think I'm evil?" he asked, his voice quiet. Almost shy.

It was all she could do not to kiss him right there.

She sighed, emitting a small sound of amusement from her lips—not quite a laugh but a titter of disbelief. Yet, she understood his need to ask—his need to know her answer.

"Lucifer," she started. She had to stop herself from calling him a pet name like he constantly did for her and she had a feeling that it would not be long until she did. She tucked her tongue between her lips, the tip of it moistening them. "I could never think that."

He threw his head back and sighed loudly in relief, his shoulders relaxing and his wings sagging under her touch. She smiled as she watched him. His lips trembled. Chloe reached for the back of his neck and pulled him back to face her. Their foreheads pressed together. They kept their eyes closed.

Lucifer's hands could not help themselves as they found her waist and circled around her form, pulling her to him. She brushed the tip of her nose along the bridge of his and she could feel his hearty, trembling laugh.

"You are arrogant and sometimes condescending and… perpetually horny even at the worst of times, sure," she said to him and they both chuckled, grinning. "But, sweetie—you're not evil. I've seen evil. And you're not it."

He'd nearly wept. Instead, he folded her into his embrace with his arms and wings. Chloe reciprocated with her arms around his neck while he buried his nose into the crook of hers. The force of his embrace lifted her from the ground and she felt his hand in her hair.

Despite their racing hearts, the warm rushing blood in their system, their lungs felt calmer and their breathing slowed and became even. As if air had settled into place and the winds of change have done their duty. The dust has settled now and this, this is what they had survived those hurricanes for.

He set her back down on the ground, his hands resting on her hips as he pulled away just ever so slightly. Lucifer rested his forehead against hers again and his eyes remained closed; as did hers. He swallowed a nervous breath.

"Darling, could I…?" he asked. "May I…?"

"C'mere," she said, pulling him to her in a kiss that tasted like a covenant.

Like a long eternity of darkness – his own 40 days and 40 nights of suffering that had lasted for eons and an age – had ended and finally, there was light. If he listened closely enough, Lucifer imagined that he might have heard his Father promise that never again shall he be consumed with sorrow and loneliness that he had been damned to in Hell.

Her kiss tasted like that promise – that promise of new life everlasting. Her arms were his own personal paradise eternal.

And if Heaven were to open up before her, the gates to the Silver City beckoning her to come to her heavenly home, Chloe would have turned it all away in that moment – and run right back on home to him.

How any other lips, how any other embrace could have matched how she felt with him was a feat that not even God Himself could accomplish. In her mind, she practically dared Him to do just that.

But as she kissed him, the thought of Lucifer's family came rushing into her train of thought and she broke off from him suddenly and uttered, "Your sister!"

Despite her clinging to him while his hands were still on her waist, he cocked his head away from her and pressed his lips to a tight line. He folded his wings back in with a casual shrug of his shoulders.

"That's a bit of a buzz kill," he said.

"Woah," she said, hands on his shoulders and lightly pushing him away so as to get a better look—as if they might reappear so long as she was standing at a different angle. When the wings appeared to be nowhere in sight, she asked, "Where do they go?"

"They're always there," he answered, tucking a stray hair away from her face and behind her ear. He had an amused little smile on his face and as he continued on with his answer, he traced the edges of her jawline and the high points of her cheekbones with the back of his finger. "They're just… in a different dimension, of a sort. Unseen to the naked human eye. You saw them because I wanted you to see them."

"So, I'm, for real, dating an Angel…" she said.

"More like the Devil himself," he said. "But, yes, semantics aside. For real."

"But, okay… Hell…?" she asked.

Lucifer sighed, a faint little smile on his lips.

Here we go, he thought.

Yet, he found none of the annoyance that came with it. When Linda first found out about it and finally came around to the knowledge of the wicked and the divine, he'd found himself impatient and irritable with her endless questions. These were not truths that he wanted to revisit – he'd, after all, come to Los Angeles to reinvent himself.

But with Chloe, he hadn't minded in the slightest. He wanted her to know. Invited her questioning, even. After all of the dodging and deceit – though the latter hadn't come from him, not in the slightest – it was refreshing to be so open with her. She did, after all, deserve to know. If by the grace of his Father she were to let him into her heart, he wanted her to know just who was at the door.

Chloe Decker had been used and lied to enough and Lucifer Morningstar would be damned into solitary nothingness if he were ever to contribute to that; if he were ever to allow her to be so woefully deceived again. No.

Never again.

So, he took her hand and pulled her back into his penthouse and sat her down onto the couch while he sat on the opposite end, crossing his legs and leaning back.

"Hell is under new management, I would imagine. Don't really know, couldn't care less," he finally answered. "I retired."

"You can do that?"

"Not technically but I'd like to see my Father try…" he said. A beat later, he amended that with, "Try again, at least. He has tried. Much to my chagrin."

"So your sister…?" Chloe asked, tucking her legs in and resting her elbow on the back of the couch, placing her chin on the palm of her hand. "And Amenadiel?"

"Both Angels, yes."

"And the thing you do… the desire thing?"

"Innate gift," he said. "I can compel people to reveal their desires. Bit like confession but more fun."

"Why?" she asked. Lucifer raised a brow at that.

"Bit existential, that. But all right…" he started. "Well, I suppose… I suppose, I was the first of my Father's children who ever wanted more than Heaven. I'd never known anything else and, to me, humans got the better end of the deal there so, I wanted. And that was enough to get me cast down in the longest running smear campaign that the world has ever known."

"Okay but not to tempt fate and get smited or anything, but… that doesn't sound so bad," she said. Lucifer smirked. "God damned you for that?"

He considered it.

He rose from where he was sat and walked toward his shelves to pick up a bottle of bourbon. He poured himself a hefty glass and downed it in one go. He refilled it and poured a regular shot for her. As he did all of that and walked back to his place on the couch with both drinks and the bottle perfectly balanced in his hands, he gave his answer.

"You know how if your child were to draw on the walls and set the kitchen on fire, you'd ground them and take away everything they loved for two weeks as punishment—but if your puppy destroyed the entire living room, it would get a time out for two seconds and suddenly, it's still the best little pup?" he said.

He handed her the drink and she took it wordlessly with both hands. Chloe nodded.

"Well, to Dad, you're the puppy. And by you, I mean all of humanity. Slap on the back of the hand and then you're right as rain again. Hell, on the other hand, is—or, well, was—my corner where I was supposed to have a good think about what it is I've done for all of eternity."

Lucifer took a sip of his drink, sighed as the fire burned in his throat. As an afterthought, he added, "Not to say I don't like puppies, just to clear that up. I do like them."

"So, you got the whole evil rep because you wanted," she concluded. "You… coveted." She blinked and bit her lip, shaking her head. "That doesn't sound evil."

Lucifer practically beamed at her, raising a glass to her. She returned it and took a sip of the bourbon. With the tip of his tongue, he traced his top lip and collected the words of his explanation in his mind.

"I do like to think it's not. Desire in and of itself is not inherently evil but what you want usually speaks a lot about what kind of person you've chosen to become. Your desires can often lead you to do evil acts that contribute to your soul's guilt. More often than not, it's what sends you to Hell," he explained. "My Father created humans with the free will to choose lives for themselves. After they were dispelled from Eden, they started to want because suddenly, Paradise was no longer available to them. And they start looking for it… for anything that can make them feel that primal memory of what it was like to be in a state of utter, perfect contentment. It's different for everyone now but the desire for that same kind of peace remains at the core of your soul."

"Can other Angels do that? What you do?"

"No, not exactly, but every Angel has something."

"But your compulsion thing doesn't work on me."

"Yes," he answered. "But that's just me. Perhaps it's just my Father trying to be funny. Or, worse, poetic. It appears anything about my divinity doesn't affect you but my brothers and sisters can. Namely, Amenadiel. Maybe Raziel."

"You said every Angel has something… what did you mean?"

"Think of it like… the X-Men," he said. "Every Angel has a special gift that's specific to—well, our Father's design. Dear Amenadiel was the first Angel—the first-born son. He can control time—slow it down, more specifically. Bit like Doctor Who except not British and not white—basically, the BBC's worst nightmare.

"And Raziel, on the other hand… she knows every fact. Good luck besting her at Trivia Tryout. As soon as something is a truth universally acknowledged, she knows about it. And, clever girl, she remembers everything. The only Being in all of Creation who knows more than my little sister is our dear old Dad. And she can draw out curiosity whereas I draw out desire—but neither of us lies. More out of principle than anything, really."

"She… knows everything," Chloe echoed.

"So to speak," he said. "More like the past and the present. The future is beyond her pay grade, I'm afraid."

"So, let's say, if I asked her who ends up on the Iron Throne on Game of Thrones or… who murdered somebody…"

Lucifer chuckled into his drink and finished it. He set the glass down.

"Ah, well, no…" he said. "Funny little thing about Raziel's gift is that she's unable to share these facts if the origin of the fact has deemed it a secret and she can only share it once she's received their proper consent. Hence, one of her monikers… Keeper of Secrets. Sounds like an off-brand, cancelled Harry Potter sequel if you ask me." Lucifer poured himself another drink. Then, he continued. "Our Father came up with that little caveat for her after she tried to give Adam and Eve directions on how to get back to Eden."

"Wait, hold up," she said, holding up a finger. Lucifer tilted his head, his silence encouraging for her to continue. "So… Adam and Eve… that was really a thing? They were… real people?"

"Well, yes, of course," he answered. "Adam was a bit of a prick. Eve was much more fun."

He had that twinkle of teasing delight in his eyes again. Usually, Lucifer reviled going down his truly vast memory lane and yet, when Chloe Decker asked, he found that he was only all too happy to answer anything she had to ask, thrilled at the opportunity to now not hold anything back.

Yet still, he watched her reactions. Nothing but truth ever came from his lips but, surely, there had to be a point where things might prove to be too much for his favourite, favoured detective.

He cocked his head, raised a brow, and asked, "Anything else?"

"So much," she whispered. "So, so much."

"I gathered," he said simply. "You can ask me anything you like. Provided that I know the answer, of course."

"Okay… oh, here's something," she said. "What's Maze?"

"Demon torturer from hell with a heart of gold… most of the time. You and your family are safe with her, I swear to you," he promised. "She's the very best of them."

"Okay," was all should could say.

That one would take her a hot minute for, if nothing else, what did it say about her daughter that her best friend in the world was a demon? Then again, she had taken to Lucifer pretty much off the bat. Perhaps Trixie had the right idea of it.

And by the explanation he'd given, there was no such thing as evil creatures – only evil deeds. By the sound of hell, it was a land that trapped you in your own eternal guilt. Demons, by design, were simply the guards of the punishment. It explained so much, she reasoned, why Mazikeen was the way that she was.

The woman was not evil, after all, and only after exposure to her, her daughter, and her friends that the demon was able to process and feel other emotions apart from sadism. You cannot miss the light, she thought, if darkness was all you had ever known.

In a way… of course, Lucifer wanted so badly to leave Hell. Down to his God-given name, he was a creature of the light. A morning star. He never belonged down there in the first place and it filled her with a righteous rage that he had suffered for so long for the simple sin of wanting.

Chloe pondered on this and Lucifer simply watched her think, patient for a change and hardly a quip from him unless she asked for it.

"But what about Charlotte? How is she your stepmom if you're…?"

"Actually, Charlotte died," he replied. "My Mum, the Goddess of all Creation, escaped Hell and possessed her body for a while. When I gave Mum Her own universe to prevent a Celestial Family Feud, She left Charlotte's body but still repaired it enough that Charlotte's soul was able to come back into it from Hell. I reason that Father allowed that to happen as recompense for ol' Mum messing her whole life about while wearing her skin."

"Back up," said Chloe. "There's… a God-dess?"

"Yes, well… it all started with a Big Bang, you know," he said, smirking. "The Bible didn't get everything right, not by a long shot."

"Okay…" she said. Looking at him, she realised that she had never quite seen him as relaxed as this. As vulnerable as this. This was not an interrogation and he was certainly no perpetrator for her to examine.

To anyone else, he might have changed in her eyes. After all, it wasn't every day that the Devil revealed himself to you. And yet, all Chloe could see was how this tall, righteous man looked at her with shy, heartfelt eyes that did not quite know how to place himself with her still.

"I… I really need to sit down."

"You are sitting down," he pointed out.

She looked down at herself and saw that he was right. She was holding the glass of bourbon she'd forgotten was in her hands. Upon seeing the beverage, she could taste the remnants of its fire on her tongue. Her legs were starting to fall asleep; she stretched them out, slowly, and letting her boot-covered feet to the floor. Chloe downed the last of the bourbon and set the glass onto the table before them.

"This is… a lot to take in, you know?"

"Take as much time as you like," he said softly. "More of a third date reveal, this, I suppose."

Lucifer leaned forward and, with hesitation, rested his hand on her knee. She looked at his hand and watched as his thumb caressed the fabric of her jeans just by her leg. Whether that was unconscious or not, she didn't know; it endeared him to her all the same.

"I am sorry, Detective—"

"Chloe," she corrected.

"Chloe," he amended. "I am so sorry. And, still, there's so much more to tell you."

"Why are you sorry?" she asked, tender and quiet. She reached out and placed her hand on top of his again, holding on to him.

"Because…" he started. Lucifer bowed his head, huffed out a sigh, and looked up to face her. "You didn't ask for this. For any of this. I don't expect a human to have to deal with all of this Celestial nonsense. I'm bloody immortal, for Dad's sake, and even I can barely make heads or tails of it all, let alone you."

His tone was laced with sorrow and regret.

"You have enough to deal with as it is, Chloe," he said. "And telling you all of this is, perhaps, the most selfish thing I have ever done." A pause. He lifted his hand – the one she was holding – and brought his knuckles to rest upon her cheek. She kept it there; her skin, soft and damp with sweat. He confessed, "You deserve to be happy. You deserve someone who treats you right and actually means it. Me telling you is… it's me trying to somehow hope that I could still be… a part of your happiness, at least. In whatever way you'd have me, if you'd allow it."

"Why did you push me away for so long?" she asked in a whisper. His hand came down from her face to rest on her lap but she still held on to him anyway.

"Because I didn't know if it was real," he replied. "If your feelings were… put there somehow, against your will. That you didn't have a choice. And I didn't want you to be used by something you can't control." He licked his lips. "If you were going to choose me, I want you to choose me. Not my Father, not anyone else."

"You thought it wasn't real?"

"Eternal punishment can get monotonous if it's the same thing over and over again," he said. "It's why demons switch up punishments every few decades or so. They get bored. Why should Dad be any different, right?"

"You thought your Father got bored."

"It wouldn't surprise me in the least if He did," he confessed. "It took… losing you to… to him, I think, for me to realise I'd been wrong. You had the choice all along and I'm sorry. If I'd realised it sooner, then maybe—"

"Hey," she stopped him, willing the sudden flash of recent memory away. No. Pierce was not fucking welcome here. "None of that. Don't do that to yourself."

"I should have been better to you," he said. "You deserved better from me. Better than me."

"Has…" she started. "Has anything changed?"

"What do you mean?"

"Now that you've told me… now that I know… and everything we've been through…" she said. "Lucifer, has any of that changed? Was any of it a lie?"

"No," he said.

Chloe smiled at him then, her blue eyes shining like the skies of Heaven itself.

"Then you're still just you, right?" she asked.

"I have always only ever been myself," he confessed. "I have always only ever been yours."

"Then…" she said, sliding closer to him. She put a hand up against his cheek and looked him in those big, sad eyes, and she knew. That nothing had changed at all.

"I love you," she told him.

She might as well have punched him in the face. Lucifer felt what remained of his heart drop to the pit of his stomach. The wind left his lungs and, for a moment, he'd lost the ability to breathe. His bones felt as if they'd turned to dust.

"Chloe…" he said, disbelief the only colour on him then.

"Nothing has changed, Lucifer," she told him, smiling. "Not how I feel. Not who you are to me. And you're my partner. My best friend. And I love you. And I'm tired of pretending that I don't."

He fell to her then, his forehead taking its place home against hers.

"I love you," he whispered back to her, the tip of his nose just barely touching her own. "I love you so bloody much."

"I know," she said.

Chloe moved to hold him into her embrace. She wrapped her arms around him and he felt his arms around her. She felt his hand on her head, her fingers in her hair just by the back of her neck. He smelled like bourbon, spice, and home. She sighed and relaxed in his embrace for she'd always loved being in his arms.

Strength was one thing but to be held as something precious was something else entirely. Lucifer held her as if she were sacred – and, maybe to him, she was. An unholy man, how he'd fallen from grace, and yet he still felt so, so divine.

"This is… a lot for a first date," she said.

They both broke into a laugh in each other's arms. She buried her nose into the curve where his neck met his shoulder and breathed him in before she leaned away. "I still have so many questions, but… I'm going to need some time to, like, process everything first before I can take in any more."

"Of course," he said. "Anything you need."

"I don't want to go yet, though," she said. "Is it okay if I stay?"

"Please do."

Lucifer Morningstar didn't like dishwashers.

They were needlessly wasteful and even he wasn't quite that hedonistic. The only benefit it had was that it saved time but what was time to an immortal? While he would never admit to it, the manual act of cleaning dishes by hand was also somewhat cathartic. Then again, he usually had cleaners handle this themselves.

Perhaps he only had a certain bias this time around, given present company. For Chloe Decker was beside him, rinsing off and drying out the plates, silverware, and glasses that they'd used for their little dinner.

It seemed so mundane, so boring – and yet, it thrilled him to no end.

For they were changed people and nothing would ever be the same for them again. Yet, here they were – as if absolutely nothing had shifted between them. Perhaps it was because nothing actually did. The truth did not change; it was only now the pair of them both knew it. No more secrets, no more things unsaid.

Finally, finally.

"You know, I just realised something…"

"Yeah?" she asked, setting a plate onto a drying rack.

"I've never had a girlfriend before," he said, wonder and amusement in his lilt.

Chloe choked on the laugh that overtook her. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Don't get me wrong, darling, I've had a lot of sex," he said, smiling so hard that the little dimples hidden behind his stubble, just by the side of his lips came out in full force. "But this is… new. And it's… fascinating. And exhilarating! Bit like really good cocaine but… more intense. Lasts longer too."

"You know I'm still a cop, right?"

"Dare you to arrest me," he said, his voice reaching that dangerously low octave that reverberated right down to the pit below her stomach. She could only purse her lips together in an almost pout, sucking in and biting the insides of her cheek to keep from smiling. He added, "Between you and me, I look quite good when handcuffed."

"Don't even go there." He chuckled. But then, Chloe leaned against the sink and dramatically slammed on the surface of it. With that same hand, she brought it up to gesture at him with her finger. He could only tilt his head and blink expectantly.

"But wait, hang on… what you're saying is… I've got more experience than you."

Lucifer broke into a laugh – and, damn him, how could a laugh sound like opera when it came from him?

"I suppose you're right. Though I'd say I'm more quality over quantity in this regard."

"You would," she said. As they finished up and took off their latex gloves, they walked back to the living space of his penthouse. So much had changed – and yet nothing at all had. And despite her reservations, Chloe had no urge to run away.

"I'm still kind of wrapping my head around this," she said, falling back to the couch.

"I would imagine you are," he said, sitting beside her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into the half embrace, quietly revelling in the normalcy of it all.

"It's weird," she started. "Don't reveals and confessions like that usually end up in big make out sessions that turn into wild sex or something—"

"Let the record show, darling, that I would not be averse to that particular cliché."

"Tough shit, babe," she said with a chuckle, turning her head to him.

Her pet names for him came more easily to her now; less slips of the tongue and more instinct, more about want. Lucifer practically purred at the thought of her calling him these things in more salacious contexts. But, right then, he was content to lounge casually with her by his arm – wanting for absolutely nothing else for the first time in his life.

Chloe continued, "Or like… you know? Dramatically storming out the doors and you'd have to chase me in the pouring rain, and then make out?"

"Very valid fantasy," he said, reaching upward to play with her hair just by his fingertips. When a breeze flitted through, he caught a whiff of cocoa and coconuts from her hair, and he practically salivated for a taste of the rest of her. But instead, he said, "I could always fly upside down, Maguire-Spiderman style, and—"

"Let's… not," she said, lightly hitting him square in the chest with the back of her hand. "I'm pretty sure God didn't give you back your wings so you can experiment with some kinky shit."

"Well, what does He know?" he asked sarcastically, capturing her hand that had swatted him across the chest and bringing up her fingers to his lips, kissing the tips with feather light kisses. "And if it's quite alright with you, I would really rather not bring in my Father into our still, temporarily non-existent sex life?"

"Okay," she said, taking her hand from his grasp and letting her fingers trace along the lines of his stubbly jaw. He smiled at the sensation, a warmth spreading from the core of him as if he'd just swallowed the sun itself. "It's just… it's like finding out your boyfriend, Peter Parker, is actually Spiderman. There isn't a manual on how I'm supposed to process this."

"I would think I'm more Superman than Spiderman, surely."

Chloe made a face.

"I don't really like Superman," she said. "No offence. I'm just not a DC kind of girl."

"How's Iron Man, then?"

"That makes me Rescue, right?"

"Is Miss Lopez rubbing off on you, darling?"

"No. It's Trixie," she said. "And doesn't the whole Angel thing already make you a superhero?"

"Possibly. But I don't have a secret identity."

"Neither does Iron Man."

"In the Golden Age comics, he does."

"Oh, my God."

"We have got to get you a new saying," he whined, eyes rolling to the back of his head. Chloe reached over to kiss him on the cheek and he brightened almost immediately.

"Superhero talk aside, I do want to process this, don't get me wrong," she said. "I'm just thinking out loud."

Lucifer pulled her by the head to him and kissed her temple. His nose in her hair afterward, he breathed her in. "I'm truly sorry, love," he said. "You know you can ask me anything you like, if you'd like to further sate your curiosity."

"It's funny…" she started, snuggling further into his embrace. She brought her legs up again and folded them under her so she was sat atop of them. "In the tarot reading Raziel gave me last night… she asked me what it is I want. And what was it I was so afraid of that—"

"I wouldn't let myself have it?" they said at the same time.

Chloe gave him a look and raised a brow. Lucifer pursed his lips and they formed a smug little smirk.

"That little shit. I knew that line sounded too rehearsed," he muttered, mostly to himself. When he faced the amused good detective again, he sighed in faux defeat. "I'm afraid my dearest, darling little baby sister played Matchmaker."

"Hey, if it works…" said Chloe, shrugging and biting her lip to keep in her grin.

"Annoying little bugger," he said with absolutely no annoyance in his voice. He matched her grin with his own. "You know, I will have to get her back for this. She'll never let me live it down."

"I really don't know how I didn't pick up on it sooner that she was your sister."

"And what is it, by the way?" he asked. His voice dropped to that low octave again as he went on. "What is it that you truly desire?"

No magic, no tension, no divine intervention – just words. Just a man asking the woman he loved an innocent little question. And she smiled at him with those bright blue eyes he would gladly go to Hell a million, a billion times over for.

"This. All this time, it was this," she said, her chin on the curve where his neck met his collarbone. Her voice was quiet and he could feel the warmth of her breath on his skin, the scent of bourbon and wine from her lips. His heart was hammering in his chest. And he would not trade these moments with her for anything. "You."

"And what were you afraid of?" he asked, just as softly.

"Losing you."

"Then in that respect, we were perfectly matched."

"So, what do we do now?"

"That, my love… is entirely up to you."

'His wristwatch would delight in the feeling of the crisp wind rushing over its face...'

"Why on Earth is the wristwatch a character in this movie?" he asked, his legs stretched and resting atop an ottoman. "It's got feelings and opinions and everything—it's a watch, for Dad's sake!"

"Oh, would you just watch it," she said, her legs over his lap while he cradled her to his embrace.

They'd settled on a movie.

Stranger than Fiction (2006) just so happened to have been playing on demand and she asked that they watched it. Lucifer obliged, stating that he had never seen this one before. He was very quickly proving himself to be a nightmare of a movie date – but she supposed that that was what she got for falling in love with the Devil himself.

He had to have something wrong with him.

The film progressed and Harold Crick was counting brush strokes, steps, and time to the second. Lucifer scoffed and gestured at his television.

"I take it back. Suddenly, the watch is so much more interesting compared to this sad creature. This man is so utterly boring."

"This is somebody's Hell, isn't it?" she asked, her expression – not amused. Chloe threw him an impassive look. "They just want to watch a movie but some demon's just by their ear—constantly talking. Forever."

"My, my," he quipped, a devilish little smirk on his lips. "Someone's got a knack for torture and punishment. Consider me aroused."

"When are you not—" she started but when he opened his mouth with his eyes gleaming with glee, grinning in the innuendo she would not let him say, she cut him off and said, "Don't answer that."

Lucifer gave a show of keeping his mouth shut and shrugging. His expression saying, 'Well, your loss.'

"Truly, though, it pains me how many humans actually live their entire lives like this," he said as Harold when on his day-to-day life at the IRS that was so precisely timed by his wristwatch. "So much of the time, their Hell turns out to be just the same. And they're guilty that they didn't just… do more with their lives."

"Oh—hang on," Lucifer said as Emma Thompson's narration was something Will Ferrell could now also here.

"Oh, he's becoming self-aware! That's exciting!" A pause. "Wish my Father sounded more like Emma Thompson. Might actually give a damn about what He's got to say if He did." He nodded knowingly at Chloe. "I'm telling you right now, my Father is not quite that eloquent. Dad forbid He try to be funny."

"You are… so adorable," she said, not knowing why she was resisting the urge to kiss him. So, she did.

The disbelief and glee that washed over his face, that went straight to his dark, warm eyes – that look would never get old.

When Harold Crick went to audit Anna Pascal, Lucifer knew that the man would be in trouble.

"He's going to fall for this one, isn't he?"

"How did you know that?"

"I know that look," he said. "That look is my native tongue. I invented that look."

'He couldn't help but imagine her naked, stretched across his—' said Emma Thompson as the camera zoomed in and slow down on Maggie Gyllenhaal's features. However, his attention was not on the screen but on the woman beside and on him.

While her legs were on his lap, she was not quite sitting on him. Which worked out well enough for him, considering that she'd asked to take things slow, and that narration meant he could adjust himself just so on the couch without her noticing too much how he'd strained against the fabric of his trousers.

How he could not help but imagine her – Chloe – naked and stretched across his…

Lucifer cleared his throat.

Chloe smirked.

"So, she's not Dad Almighty, then," he said as Emma Thompson made an appearance on screen, picturing what it might be like to jump off a building.

"No," she said, just as Queen Latifah came in and introduced herself as Penny.

"I almost bought it, too," he said. "My Father would have a boring human name like bloody Karen."

'I don't know how to kill Harold Crick,' said Karen Eiffel, as played by Emma Thompson, then trying desperately to light a cigarette with trembling fingers.

It started slow, just like she asked, but when she started to notice, she could not help but pick it up.

Lucifer could not stop touching her. It was little things that he did throughout the film as he slowly but surely stopped giving commentary and truly gave into the narrative. When Harold Crick started fantasising even more about the little anarchist baker, he started giving her little kisses on top of her head, to her temple, on her forehead. With every sigh, she settled and snuggled closer into his chest.

She had never been held quite like this before. He didn't complain once. Because while previous partners have held her in their embrace, and she'd held them, the way Lucifer had his arm wrapped around her was almost territorial. He did not do it consciously, she noted, as his eyes were glued to the screen.

It was instinct for him, she discovered, to want her.

'Most comic heroes fall in love with people who are introduced after the story has begun; usually people who hate the hero initially…'

"Darling, remind me—you used to find me repulsive, yes?" he whispered to her ear.

"Absolutely loathed the very core of you, babe."

'Ms Pascal, I've been odd. And I… I know that I've been odd, and—I want you.'

Chloe looked at him only to see that he was looking right back at her. He reached to kiss her forehead but that was not enough and her lips sought his. She did not know if she had ever kissed someone so much and yet could not stop smiling into it.

Lucifer wrapped his arms around her waist and deepened their kiss. When the tip of her tongue ran over his bottom lip, she felt his moan against her and she felt that moan travel through her veins and right down between her legs. She giggled – honest to goodness giggled – at the sensation and hid her face into her favourite spot on his chest.

She folded her knees in and his arms were all around her. Chloe Jane Decker had never felt so warm and safe in her life.

"I should send Raziel some flours," he whispered. "By the bloody truckload."

"Mmm. Count me in," she whispered back. "She might actually be Trixie's new favourite now." He leaned back at that, offense on his features. He might not be particularly affectionate toward the little spawn but he'd be damned – well, even more damned – if he would allow tiny Decker's affections to be stolen from him.

"She said you'd give Trixie piggyback rides if she asked," Chloe clarified.

He huffed.

"I would never—" he started. She laughed in his arms and she felt his hand by her lower back rub at her. "The nerve of her!"

"When I was a young boy… my mama said to me…"

It didn't surprise her that Lucifer knew the song that Harold started singing as he played on the guitar. His voice had always been one of the most attractive things about him – though she wasn't about to tell him that. Just yet.

She bobs her head along to the music and grins.

When Anna kisses Harold and they start making out on the couch, Chloe felt him stir and adjust himself again underneath her. She couldn't help the little chuckle she gave out as she did so, folding into herself even more and pressing harder against his chest. She felt his chest shake with laughter as she did so and the gentle, barely there caress of his thumb along the fabric of her sweater.

"Give you any ideas?" he whispered to her ear.

"Way too tame," she shot back.

"That's my girl."

His smile could have outshone the sun's inevitable supernova.

"He doesn't die, does he?" he muttered just as Harold discovers the interview. "Oh, tell me he doesn't die. He can't just die, can he?"

"You're invested in this now, aren't you?"

"I'll admit, it's not how I imagined spending my first night with my first girlfriend but I must say, I'm thoroughly entertained."

When Harold tries to see and bargain with Karen, she felt him reach for her hand. He absentmindedly started playing with her fingers and she could not focus on the film. When Harold begs for his life and tries to find a way out the narrative that has been written for him, she sees her boyfriend get glassy eyed. As if he were about to cry.

It was in that tell-tale tremble of his lips as well and the redness that rose to his cheeks.

She supposed that that was one of the many reasons she loved him, she thought. Lucifer never put on any shows of false emotions for anyone. Despite his blatant, poorly conceived attempts to push her away, he could not lie. He was someone she could rely on, though not quite predict. And he wasn't afraid to feel when it came down to it – at least, now he wasn't.

He would be the type of man who'd cry at beautiful stories. Because when Harold got hit by that bus and Karen started smashing her typewriter, she saw a tear fall from his eyes.

"No…" he muttered, palming his cheek.

Chloe could only smile.

'Because it's a book about a man who doesn't know he's about to die and then dies. But if the man does know he's going to die and dies anyway, dies willingly, knowing he could stop it, then… I mean, isn't that the type of man you want to keep alive?'

"Oh, that is brilliant!" he exclaimed.

"Told you so."

When the credits started to roll, she only just saw the time at the corner of the television screen.

Had she really been at his penthouse for three hours?

And has it only really been three hours?

It felt like time had dilated and expanded – an eternity compressed.

Beneath them, Lux was still in the prime time of the night, though it had already crept to early Sunday morning by now. The pulsing lights, the loud bass music, the scantily clad dancers on top of tables… and yet up here, it was the picture of serenity. She never wanted to leave.

"What did you think of it?" she asked, her fingers in the barely there caress along the stubble by his chin. The plump skin of his lips. Her voice was low, nearly developed a husky timbre to it.

"Well, it was no Hot Tub High School but it was okay, I'll give you that," he teased.

Chloe threw her head back, her cheeks hurting from how she kept smiling at him. It felt idiotic to be in such a state of absolute joy. Her laugh was the only music he sought now – every sound that passed from her lips as long as she made them in bliss.

He'd wanted this for so long that even if it weren't real, he did not want to wake up.

Lucifer knew he didn't deserve this but he wanted to stay in this dream anyway. Especially when he was so close to her eyes, when she was looking at him like that.

"I love you," he said to her, never quite getting used to how it sounded like a hymn to her and he would sing this song for all the rest of his life if she would let him.

"I would have thought a movie night in on a Saturday would've been too boring for you," she teased, her hands now drifting toward the collar of his button down shirt.

He could feel her breathing start to become laboured; he only noticed because he felt very much the same way and has done so for the last two hours.

"Chloe, darling, I'll take whatever you give me. And this is already more than I deserve," he said, a hand resting on her cheek, brushing away her long hair.

Lucifer had always appreciated this look on her specifically; free from her signature tight, pristine ponytail, she looked more angelic than he could ever hope to be. The side of his lip twitched to a crooked smirk as he looked her in the eye and dropped his gaze to her full lips (he made sure she knew exactly where he was looking). He leaned in closer to her, the tip of his nose brushing the skin of her cheek.

He felt her swallow down a breath and it made him smile.

With a light kiss to the edge of her jaw, just by her ear, he felt her sigh. His hand by her cheek then drifted to her neck. With his thumb beneath her chin, he manoeuvred to push her head back just a little, and she was more than eager to follow his direction, and he kissed her pulse point slowly. Languidly.

Chloe felt the brush of his tongue, flat as it licked against her skin, right down to the sudden tightness between her thighs. A sharp exhale passed her lips as her breath hitched. He didn't leave that spot by her pulse and with the way he kissed, licked, and sucked, she knew that space on her skin would be purple by morning.

"Lucifer," she whimpered.

He had a hand pressed against her throat – not quite restricting her air but it did make her feel lightheaded. She gripped at his muscled arm while her other hand busied itself at the back of his neck, scratching at the skin there and pulling at his short hair. That got her a groan from him, a sound that she felt all over her skin as it washed over her like a wave.

"But do feel free to do anything you like to me," he whispered into her ear and the low thrum of his voice by her ear was enough to get her eyes to roll to the back of her head. She keened. "I'm all yours whenever you like."

Chloe pulled him away from her neck to look at him, brushing her nose against his. She bit her lip as she smiled. "You know, this is probably the happiest I think I have ever been."

Awed was the only way she could describe how he looked at her then.

"You're my pancakes," he muttered, just almost kissing her but not quite. "I—I meant…"

"I know what you meant," she said.

In the film, Professor Hilbert gave Harold the dilemma of whether or not he ought to choose life or the pancakes. At first, it seemed as though the choice might be obvious – anyone would choose life over pancakes. But he'd posed that that was highly subjective, based on the kind of live being lived and the quality of the pancakes.

From suave and seductive to nerdy and adorable at the drop of a dime, it seemed that Lucifer Morningstar could do it all.

"I love you too," she said.

He couldn't help himself then and kissed her. Fully and wholly, with every ounce of skill and passion that he had (which he would then say was a significant amount). She moaned at the intensity of it. His hands were circled at her waist and he angled his face up to kiss her for she was starting to get on her knees, with him between her thighs.

Chloe started laughing as she kissed him, her hands on his face, and she could not stop. Her fingers loved the feel of the hair on his face – not too coarse, but not quite soft. Lucifer's hands started to roam, though never quite going into territory to which he did not quite know yet if he was invited.

"What's so funny?" he asked, trailing kisses then to the corner of her lips, down the line of her jaw, and to her neck.

"You don't—" she started but he kissed at a spot by her neck that made her breath hitch. She very nearly cursed then but she could feel the arousal just start to seep into the fabric of her undergarments. Chloe, still grinning from ear to ear, pulled at him by his hair. His kiss-swollen lips were parted with wonder. "You don't know how often I dreamt of you like this this."

Lucifer beamed at her. "Well, give me a bit of time, love. I'll make all of them come true."

She kissed him, loving how he felt beneath her like this. When his palms pressed at the soft fabric of her sweater, he could feel the warmth of her flesh beneath it. His thumbs brushed by the curve beneath her breasts, making her hips roll on him. She started trailing her own kisses along his cheek, the line of his jaw, and his neck – the same trail he'd laid out on her skin earlier – and when he felt her hands drift to the front of his button down shirt, he couldn't quite believe what he was doing.

He pulled away as she started to undo the buttons of his shirt and took her hands into his.

"Chloe," he breathed and she flipped her hair back as she brought her face back up to meet him. That sight alone was enough to make his trousers feel just that much tighter. "What happened to waiting?" he asked, eyes never leaving hers. "I thought you wanted it slow."

"I do want it slow," she said, smirking from above him. "We waited three whole hours, Lucifer. That's pretty slow, right?"

He grinned, breath caught in his throat. "You're sure?"

"Yeah," she told him. "Keep going." She pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Baby, I want you to keep going."

Breathless and enraptured by her, Lucifer gave her everything he had.

His kisses went from teasing to bruising. He made his desire known when he pleaded for her mouth to open, where his tongue met hers. The sounds she made went straight to his trousers. He moved his lips to her neck where she knew he would be decorating her pale skin with the marks that he'd been there.

His hands pushed her sweater up and his hands, soft and hot and tender, found her skin. With the palms of his hands, he pressed at her middle. His nails were manicured and short, yet they could still scrape at her skin, making pleasure shoot straight up her spine.

"Oh, my G—" she almost said but he pulled away almost immediately. He raised a brow at her, almost scolding. His lips were pursed, nearly a smirk. Chloe bit her lip and made a face at him. "Right. Sorry."

"When in doubt, my name works," he teased. "Or, really, call me anything you like. Just not Him, yeah?"

"Gotcha," she said.

"Good?" he asked, that cocky grin on him that she loved so goddamn much. She wouldn't give him the benefit of her answer just yet, however, so she only bit her lower lip and nodded.

Lucifer kissed her and fire roared through her veins. When he finally started pushing up her sweater over her breasts and off of her, her little bullet necklace bounced against the soft, golden bronze of her sun-kissed skin.

"Do me a favour and don't take it off again," he said.

The straps of her bra started falling from her shoulders. In the back of his mind, he highly appreciated the colour on her. Royal blue – a spectacular contrast to the gold of her skin, of her hair – with black lace detail. All the while, her hands were roaming along his shoulders, his arms as he made his way down her chest with his kisses. In one quick motion, he unclasped her bra from behind, and he had her bare chested before him.

Lucifer wasted no time, then licking her nipple with a slow, languid flourish. He angled himself so that she could watch him. Her lips were parted as he placed his around the sensitive flesh of her nipple and sucked.

"Holy fuck," she said. Chloe felt him rumble against her, chuckling as he suckled on her flesh, and she breath came out in shaky, winded laughter. She gripped at the hair at the back of his neck; not quite pulling him away but she grasped at his hair enough for it to hurt. At least just a little.

He trailed small, chaste, wet little kisses along her chest as he made his way to her other breast, giving it the same treatment. Chloe felt herself grow more aroused in her panties – the pulsating tightness was there, seeking friction, and she rolled her hips over him, which got him to moan. With a harsh, strong tug of his hair back, she pulled him back enough so she could kiss him fiercely, already missing the taste of his lips.

Her hands busied themselves with the buttons of his shirt and silk vest. He leaned forward, hands keeping her close to him as she divested him of his clothes. Neither of them knew where they landed; both of them were beyond caring.

Still kissing him – with his hands still desperate to keep her close to him – she rose from his lap and pried the button of her jeans open. When he tried to rise from the couch, Chloe pushed him back into it.

"You sit right there," she told him, taking off her boots and socks, and pulling down her jeans and soaked underwear and kicking them to the side.

"Copy that," he replied, grinning while he held her naked form as she straddled him.

He could smell the scent of her arousal and she had him salivating. His eyes darkened with lust and it delighted him to know that hers when she was in this state was a siren stare. Her eyes were all oceans—all consuming and inviting; all he wanted to do was drown in them, let her fill his lungs and drag him deeper and deeper into where no light could touch them except the fire they made with each other.

Chloe kissed him then, smiling against his lips as he kissed her back without hesitation. Her hands cupped and squeezed at the flesh of her ass, and they travelled further down to the smooth, supple skin of her thighs. She rolled her hips against him as he touched her and it was agony. He groaned as much to that effect.

"You doing okay down there?" she teased.

"You know I'm getting you back for this," he teased right back.

"Counting on it."

His hands were at her back as she started kissing and sucking on his neck, leaving marks of her own. When she bit down at the tender flesh at the curve between his neck and his collarbone, he swore and gripped tightly at her ass, massaging and pulling and leaving scratches where he could. Chloe reached down to the button and zipper of his trousers.

With an assisted lift from him, she managed to get his trousers and boxers down to his knees. He slid further down his couch to allow her further room, his legs spread just so with his feet firmly on the floor. His cock stood erect to her, at full attention, and when she stroked him with one hand, he nearly lost it. Lucifer threw his head back as she wrapped her hand on him with a firm grip. Her other hand by his neck, she pulled him up to her to kiss him and he mindlessly returned it.

Her fingers messed with his impossibly soft hair, his impeccable styling coming undone at her touch and leaving her with luxurious curls. She combed through it while she kissed his neck, gripped at his hair when it suited her, and all he could do was let her. With a roll of her hips, her wet lips brushed against the underside of his cock and he bellowed out a groan.

"Which one of us is meant to be the Devil here?" he said, resisting the urge to throw his head back as she rolled her hips on him again. "Bloody hell, woman."

She grinned and ran her tongue along his skin then nipping and biting at him along the underside of his jaw. Lucifer's legs were trembling beneath her, she could feel him, but his hands felt so good and so steady as he ran them up and down her thighs. With a last roll of her hips, she decided that she could not take it anymore.

"You're clean, right?" she asked, breathless.

"'Course I'm clean. I'm a responsible Devil," he said. "You need me to—?"

"No, it's okay," she said. "IUD."

Lining him up with her, Lucifer could only stare as she tried to take him inside of her. Chloe hissed as the girth of him stretched out her muscles and she gasped. She barely had a third of him all the way in when she had to stop and let him rest there inside her.

"Slow, love," he cooed. "Take it slow." With the tips of his fingers, he brushed her hair off her face. Hand on the side of her face, thumb caressing her cheek, he told her, "Chloe, darling. Look at me." She did. "You alright?"

She could barely keep her eyes open but she managed to nod. "I'm okay. It's okay, it's just—fuck."

"Take it slow," he repeated. "Relax. I've got you."

Chloe bid her muscles to loosen up and she sunk lower down onto him. Lower, and lower, and lower until he was buried in her to the hilt. Lucifer found it hard to breathe and bid for himself not to think about just how good she felt around him. Tight, warm, and deliciously wet; the smell of her so wet for him was intoxicating.

"Lucifer," she whispered.

"You alright, darling?"

"Y-yeah, I—I'm okay," she said, resting her forehead against his. She sighed. "So much better than I thought you'd be."

"And did you think of me often?" he asked, his lips grazing lightly by her cheekbone. She felt him drag his lower lip across her skin so, so slowly; coupled with that and the feeling of him inside of her, she keened.

"So much."

"I thought of you too," he confessed.

"I love you," she said, kissing him quickly but having to separate at the same second for she could not suppress the moan from her lips. Lucifer smiled at the sight and snaked his hand to hold her head. He kissed her lips, her cheek, her eyelids, her forehead.

"I love you too," he whispered back to her.

Chloe moaned above him and rolled her hips again, rising from him just so only to fall back. He held her face still, wanting to see her, while the other had his hand on her waist. She started rolling on him slowly, her muscles still getting used to how it felt to have him inside of her. She felt stretched and sore, yes, and yet the momentary pain was turning into sweet, smooth, silky pleasure as he filled her. Breath caught in her throat, she choked on a sob.

"So good," she mewled. "And don't say I told you so."

Lucifer chuckled, lifting his hips to meet hers in an upward thrust. She felt so slick and so wet around him that the scent was near enough to overwhelm him. He bit down at her neck as she rolled on him.

"You're exquisite, Chloe," he murmured into her skin, leaving kisses on every part of her that his lips could reach. "Heaven sent."

More and more, the way she rolled and grinded on him was not enough. With significant force and lift from her thighs, she rode him. Hard. The tip of him inside her kept hitting that sweet, delicious spot that she loved and she loved him without restraint. She mewled and keened with every thrust.

Lucifer watched the delectable bounce of her breasts, the way the bullet necklace moved against her chest as she moved on top of him. His hands gripped at her waist so hard that she knew there would be bruises there come morning light. His upward thrusts matched her for strength and the slapping of their skin, slick with sweat and sex, was the only beat that their moans and groans sang to.

No Wreckless Eric song blasting in the background for them to fuck to – all they needed was the symphony of each other, in perfect harmony in this… the oldest, most natural dance since time immemorial.

"More," she pleaded, her voice keening high as she reached that peak.

So, he gave her more.

Lucifer grunted and groaned, giving her exactly what she asked for, and watching the way sweat beaded down her body, the bounce of her breasts as she rode him like this. His lips sought out her nipples then, sucking on them as if he were starved of her, while his cock slipped in and out of her with slick, wet noises that were true music to his ears.

"Lucifer," she moaned. "Lucifer."

There it was.

She was close; he knew it, from the clenching of her muscles around him from beneath. His hands roamed on her body, his hands large enough to grip her stomach and have his palms press against her pressure there. It made her insides feel tighter and she could feel him inside her—how smoothly he came in, the force and strength of him, and the delicious way he filled her.

"You feel so good," she said. "So, so good."

"Heaven's got nothing on you, darling," he said, panting as he exerted every effort to give her exactly what she deserved—which was everything he had, and then some.

Her thighs trembled and she held on to his shoulders as she rode him with every ounce of strength that she had. Her blue eyes bore into his, darkened and dilated, and they looked at only each other as she neared that height, that restrictive way pleasure coiled in her body like a spring.

Higher and higher she went, as he went faster and harder up inside her. He thought of nothing else but her pleasure, of having her reach that peak. Lucifer held himself off, pained concentration on his face as gave her everything he had.

When she came, she came with a voiceless scream – her mouth was wide open and yet the words and wind was stolen from her lungs.

"That's it, Chloe," he cooed, marvelling at the sight of her coming apart for him, savouring the image in his memories until the photograph of it in his mind would be seared to his very soul.

Chloe's spine curved as she threw her head back, her hands somehow stabilising herself on his knees, as he kept thrusting in and out of her, trying to prolong her high. His hands were still by her waist, squeezing her tight and releasing her to breathe intermittently, letting her have the longest high she'd ever had in her life.

As she reached the tail end of her orgasm – her limbs reduced to practically nothing as they hummed with a kind of electricity that left her hairs on end, making her feel as if she were at the peak of a drunken buzz – she felt Lucifer reach his release when he moaned her name into her skin, sending warmth up inside when he came and she felt that heat rush and reach her spine.

Chloe bowed her head and rested her chin atop his mop of sweaty, curly hair, breathing hard, as she clutched on to his arms like she would to a lifeboat just before she drifted off to sea. It made sense, considering how much of a shipwreck her body felt after being loved and fucked like that. She could feel him breathing between the valley of her breasts, panting and trying to regain himself just the same.

But where she'd been expecting him to start to soften inside her upon his release, he was still just as hard.

"You cannot be serious," she whispered with shaky breaths.

Lucifer, quick to glean her meaning, chuckled as he slid back up on the couch with her on top of him. "I did tell you," he said, high and breathless. "Incredible stamina."

"Show off," she teased.

Chloe kissed him then, intensity simmering down to sweet and lazy as she recovered. He returned her kisses, of course – quick ones that he peppered all over her flushed face. She glowed with the sheen that came with sex and sweat. Yet despite that being, undoubtedly, the most intense orgasm of her life (so far), exhaustion had not yet plagued her.

On the contrary, she was more awake than before, despite the fact that her eyelids were heavy. Her body felt like it was floating, like even nerves she didn't even know she had felt like open livewires. His every touch was electrifying, jolting her awake.

"I have to say, though," he murmured as he kissed along her neck. "I always imagined this would first happen on my bed."

"Later," she promised. "If you can keep up."

"Chloe…" he said, awed by her. "You just keep on surprising me, don't you?"

They kissed for a long while.

He took that time to finally kick off his trousers that had managed to pool around his ankles and he kicked away at his socks and shoes.

Her arms were wrapped around his neck, too tired to do much of anything else, and happy to let him take over. His hands were anything but idle as Lucifer touched her with reverence, as if he wanted to explore every inch of her over and over again—and he did. He did want to.

"What else have you dreamt of, darling?" he asked, quiet and low. "Come on now. Tell me what you want and I'll make it yours."

At that, he rolled his hips from under her and her senses went haywire as he was still buried deep inside of her. Chloe moaned at the sensation. And he held her body closer to him, her still sensitive nipples on her breasts brushing against the sweat-soaked skin of his body, and she wanted to scream.

She'd known he would be good—his reputation preceded him, of course. But this… this wasn't human. And he wasn't. He was divine.

"The piano," she whimpered. "You're playing but you're also, oh fuck—" His lips reached her pulse point again and he was sucking and kissing her skin there in a way that made her whole body feel like it was about to burst into flame at any given moment. Chloe swallowed back a breath and tried to speak. "You've got—"

"Go on," he whispered.

How did she never believe that he was the Devil before right then when he so obviously was? Especially when his voice got that low, that sultry, that honeyed just by her ear? Everything about him invited sin—no wonder the road to Hell looked so goddamn good if he were at the end of it. His breath was so warm against her skin and the sound of his voice sent shivers down her spine, making her arch back.

"I want your tongue on me, Lucifer," she moaned. "In me."

"You want me to eat you out, is that it?" he said, voice suddenly high with mischief and delight. "Chloe, love, I thought you'd never ask."

Lucifer lifted her as if she weighed nothing. Which should not have been a surprise, given that she has been witness to his incredible strength on multiple occasions, but despite her many dreams of him like this, she never once imagine how light it would feel to be carried by him. Chloe had been carried before, her legs have wrapped around other waists in her life, and yet she never once felt weightless—as light and carefree as air.

The sensation made her laugh and he smiled at her then, carrying her in his arms.

Had he always been so muscular beneath the bespoke, three piece suits?

She'd seen him naked once before, of course. Lucifer hardly missed the chance to show off his physique. And yet, she'd never quite paid attention to the curves and dips of his arms. In truth, it was difficult to marvel at his form when she could still feel the slip and slide of him inside her as he walked toward his grand piano, like she'd asked.

"Holy hell, you're really going to do it," she said in disbelief as he settled her on top of the sleek, glossy surface of his instrument.

"I told you, love," he said, kissing her forehead. "Anything you desire. Name it and it's yours."

Lucifer kissed her then, towering over her when he stood. He slipped out of her then and she felt his release drip down her skin. She could not help the whine she emitted at the loss of him. Their arousal dripped from her wet lips and from his still hard cock that now sprung free, pearlescent and plentiful, onto the lid that covered the piano keys but neither of them cared.

He earned a whimper from her when she felt his tongue stroke up from her chin to her lower lip, seeking entrance to her mouth. Chloe felt as if she would never, ever tire of being kissed like this. Raw and pure and wonderful.

"Lucifer," she moaned.

He grinned into the kiss. His hands, he'd kept just by her waist; one travelled south of her, his thumb quickly finding her clit. His touch made her gasp and her throw her head back. He felt her nails dig into his arms. He kept an arm around her to keep her steady as his fingers moved with dexterity along her wet folds, her clit. Kisses then moved from her lips, to her jaw, down to her neck, and up to her ear again in an endless, delicious loop.

"I cannot wait to taste you, darling," he whispered.

Chloe forgot every word she'd ever known. Her words were reduced to single vowels and she hummed them, moaned them as he continued his exploration of her.

His kisses went further and further down her body. By the time he'd reached to suck on her nipples once more, she heard the click beneath her as he lifted the piano's lid up with one hand, while the other continued to service the slick skin between her legs. Lucifer kept trailing his way down with slow, deliberate kisses. All she could do was breathe heavily, heart racing in her chest.

The way she was sat on his piano, with the way they were, anyone could have come up to his penthouse and this would have been the first scene they saw once the lift's doors opened. Somehow, the idea only spurred her on.

'Let them know he's taken,' she thought. 'He's mine now. Finally.'

Chloe hummed at the thought as he kept on in his descent. When she felt the stubble tickle the skin of her inner thighs, she giggled at the feeling. For the life of her, she could not stop smiling. Lucifer managed to sit down on his piano bench, erection still at full attention but he chose not to pay it any heed, singularly focused on the task of giving her everything she wanted.

He did not let up when it came to his kisses and she knew he had left marks there by her thighs as well. They would bloom purple come morning light and she didn't mind in the slightest—she didn't care about anything else right then.

With her legs parted like a promise before him, Lucifer thought she smelled like sinful salvation. She felt like redemption—like deliverance. Like the faith of every believer in any pantheon of gods and would-be gods, and his Father Himself—and this, before him, was his own altar now.

The only higher power he had faith in was her.

When he laid his tongue flat on her lips and she called out his name in a sigh, he thought that this is what true grace felt like.

When his fingers touched the piano keys and started playing, he thought to himself this was the first time that he'd gone to praise and worship in millennia. The music he played was a hymn to her and his tongue on her lips was how he'd sung her praises.

Lucifer sucked on the little bundle of nerves that was her clit and she cried out from above him, loud and without restraint. He smirked into his deeds, pleased with himself, as he continued to play on the piano.

It was not a tune she would have recognised. It was a song from eons and eons ago, back before written history—back before he'd even fallen in the first place. One of the first songs he'd ever composed back in Heaven. A reflection of his innermost desires, his want of more than what Heaven could give him. And he found it now—he'd found her now.

"Lucifer," she moaned, gripping at his hair, pulling at him in a gesture of her pleading for more. "Babe, that's so good."

He delighted in her pleasure, happy to give her more of what she liked. His tongue slipped into her and tasted the sweetness of her arousal. How was that for salt and light of the Earth, he thought to himself. She tasted like a covenant—a promise, almost, that he would never have to drown in sorrows again; from now on, she would be the only sea in his lungs.

He'd known she was a miracle but who would have thought she might make a believer of him?

And oh, he believed in her.

Chloe scratched at his scalp and pulled at his curls. By the noises she was making, it sounded as if she were close to rapture once more.

"Fuck sake, how many tongues do you have?" she whimpered from above him.

Lucifer chuckled darkly as he went about his feast of her. His fingers kept playing the piano—a sweet, sinful melody to mirror the symphony of his heart beat in tune with hers.

Her legs started shaking, the heels of her feel accidentally pressing on the keys on either side of him. With quick movements, he put her legs over her shoulders and she wrapped them around his head to pull him in closer. Her back started to arch as she started rising to climax. He slackened his jaw to cover her wholly into his mouth. His tongue never tired of her.

And when she came again, screaming his name as she arched her back and pushed her hips to his mouth, the space between her thighs became his own land of milk and honey.

Chloe rode out the wave of desire he gave her and he hummed happily as he devoured the prize of her pleasure still mixed with his on his lips.

Slowly, he crept back up her body with another journey of kisses, never tiring of the taste of her skin. He closed the lid on his piano and his hands replaced the cool touch of ivory for the heat of her flesh. He reached her lips again and she kissed him in thanks, tasting the honey and salt of their arousal on his lips, with her tongue hungry for so much more. He kissed her with bruising force and she moaned at the feel and taste of his tongue mingling with hers.

"I love you," she whispered between kisses, still smiling with those full, kiss-swollen lips of hers. "Missed you."

He returned the expression of bliss on her face though he knew that his body was starved for more of her. "I missed you more, Chloe."

"I can't feel my legs," she said, laughter in her breathless tone.

"That's the idea," he teased, panting all the same.

Before she knew it, she was lifted into his arms again. When her back met the wall, she grunted at the second of pain but Lucifer was quick to replace that with the sensation of his lips back at her neck, mercilessly sucking on her skin and biting down on her when he felt like it.

He had her pinned against the wall just by the entrance to his bedroom where his bed laid pristine and inviting. But not yet, not yet…

His hands held her steady as they wrapped around his waist without much strength, still limp and buzzing from the last orgasm he gave her. He didn't mind—that was the point, after all, but it kept his hands steadily beneath her thighs to hoist her up.

Chloe felt him hard and erect against her clit, so solid and unrelenting, and while she was already definitely sore and hypersensitive from the pleasure, she found that her muscles were clenching at the feeling of him so close to her. Her body already yearning for what it had lost.

"Miss you," she whispered to his ear, her hand at his curly, dampened hair, as he kissed her neck still. "I miss you inside me."

Lucifer moaned into her skin at her words, rolling his hips up against her and having her feel his erection against where she found herself still wet and throbbing for him.

"Well, we can't have that, can we?" he said, rising to meet her lips with quick, sloppy kisses. He carried an easy smile on his face, despite the strain of his erection, pearlescent arousal leaking from the tip. "Can't have you wanting on my watch."

With a kiss and with great dexterity, he managed to align himself with her while holding her firmly against the wall. After all, she hardly weighed a thing to his strength and yet he felt the power of her in his arms all the same.

Lucifer moaned loudly when he entered her again. She was tighter than before and yet more accommodating of him this time. Chloe panted, tears coming to her eyes as sweat beaded down the side of her face. She choked on a breath and swallowed it down as he loved her, thrusting deep and swift.

"Harder," she whimpered, clutching on to him.

She buried her face into the crook of his neck and moaned upon his skin, licking at him and kissing where she could reach. He did as she asked, giving her more strength from his hips and she bit him when he did, muffling the sound of her scream with his skin between her teeth.

He moaned her name over and over again as he made love to her against the wall, a hymn of her praises. "Darling, you feel so fucking wonderful."

"Fuck," she said in return. "More," she whined. "Give me more."

When he felt her legs tighten around his waist, he knew he was close. He pressed her harder against the wall, the rough surface scratching at her skin but she didn't complain. The feeling of his warm, soft skin on hers and the contrast of the cool, rough wall behind her did wonders for the intensity of the pleasure he was giving her.

Lucifer pulled out almost all the way before he entered her again, and again, and again. He did this with increasing intensity, never once faltering or slipping out of her entirely. To her, it felt immaculate to have him like this.

Her fingernails scratched at his scalp, at his back, at his arms. He felt his hand press low on her torso, just below her belly, and with his thumb, he pressed and drew circles on her clit as his cock gave her what she wanted. When he buried himself so deep that he hit that spot inside her again, she gasped out his name.

"Lucifer, there!" she called out. "Right there, right there—!"

She mewled and pleaded for him to keep going, to not stop. Her legs tightened around him even more as if to say faster, harder, deeper. He gave her all of that and more.

"Chloe, darling, I'm so close," he murmured into her. "I'm—"

"Don't stop," she begged, panting and her voice was sinfully high. "Don't stop."

"Chloe—"

"Keep going, baby, keep going—"

She felt the tingling tightness grow beneath her belly as he kept on. His thrusts became erratic, though still deliciously and punishingly hard, and when he came inside her, he practically roared. Lucifer threw his head back as his release came over him, his thighs shaking and his knees buckling at the force of it, and he bucked inside her.

Chloe grinned at the sight of his orgasm, cooing for him to keep going, and as he pumped his release inside of her, the pressure of his fingers on his clit furiously fast, she came again—his name on her lips. Her legs gave out and if he were not holding her up, she would have fallen flat on her face.

She fought to keep her eyes open after that, sweat on her lashes now, and she saw that clumps of his usually impeccably styled hair had stuck to the skin of his forehead with sweat. It curled just so and it made him look adorable.

"Come here," she said, pulling his face to her for a kiss.

Even he was breathless from that orgasm that all he could do was return her kisses without grace or poise. Her skin was damp with sweat, and so was his, and her lungs heaved as if she'd just run a marathon. Or had been well and thoroughly fucked by the goddamned Devil himself—which she had.

"Take me to bed," she whispered to him.

"Chloe Decker, do you want more?" he managed to ask, eyes shining bright with heat but darkened still with lust. His dimples looked so much more prominent when he smiled like that. She grinned.

"Give me a minute and I will," she said with a laugh.

He chuckled, resting his forehead against hers as he took laborious breath after breath, trying to remember how to walk again. He slipped out of her as he softened, their arousal then dripping down to his legs and to the floor as he did. No doubt that he had a few more in him left – there were certain benefits to being a celestial being, after all – but even he needed to recover from that.

From her.

As it was, he managed to bounce her back into balance in his arms and he walked them to his bed. He laid her down on fresh sheets and she luxuriated in the feeling of them beneath her too sensitive, too hyperaware skin—so silky, soft, and smooth to the touch that she had to moan as soon as she made contact with the mattress.

"I'm making that my ringtone," he murmured as he nuzzled into neck, crawling on top of her.

"Nobody does ringtones anymore, Lucifer," she muttered as she tried to slide to the centre of his bed. He followed.

"I'll adjust my settings," he said, nipping at her earlobe. "Don't test the Devil when I'm trying to seduce you, darling."

"We are way past seduction at this point, don't you think?"

"Hardly. The courting doesn't stop just because you've said yes," he said, hands exploring her body with slow gliding movements along her skin, soft and sweet pressure from his palm to make her feel it. "I intend to make you say yes every bloody day for the rest of your life. And so forth."

"Lucifer," she whispered. "Luce, babe, I—"

He reached between her legs then, pressure on her folds, and she gasped. Whined. Arched her back and shivered. Her heels dragged the sheets beneath her as her body responded to him still—exhausted and worn, but still starving, still electric, still alive.

"Bloody love you like this," he said, tickling the skin of her legs with his toes as he dragged them up her skin. Every part of him, he used to please her. "I love you."

His lips met hers again in a slow, sensual kiss. A slip of the tongue, here and there, but not quite as deepened. His fingers were deliberate against her, coaxing out her arousal again—unhurried. She might even say it was arrogant. But she could not quite bring herself to speak on it when he was kissing her like that. The feel of his stubble against her skin made her feel weak in the knees and she shivered.

Lucifer Morningstar was temptation made flesh, made mortal, made man—she knew that, and yet there was no guilt in her desire of him. It came upon her so effortlessly, so naturally—how could this possibly be a sin when it felt so much like what Heaven could be… what she wanted Heaven to be. With every push of his hands, her body responded on instinct and in kind, and they moved together like gravity itself was pulling at their motions.

And that was the thing about gravity, she supposed—it never needed a reason why.

She sighed when he slipped in a finger and curled it deep inside her. Her body convulsed in response beneath him and he smirked wickedly as he planted a quick kiss to the tip of her nose.

"Did this this morning," she managed to breathe out. "Wished it was you."

With the tip of his tongue, he flicked a lick to her full lips and grinned. "If you're ever in the mood, call me any time. I'm happy to be your booty call whenever you desire it."

Chloe laughed, a grin blooming on her face, and that was exactly the moment he slipped in a second and third finger inside her. The smile turned to an open mouth and a gasp. She had to swallow down the 'oh my God' that convention had taught her but she knew better than to bring Him into this bed.

Instead, she said, "Lucifer."

He'd known for a while that he would never tire of hearing her say his name like that. His chosen name for himself, the identity he'd crafted from a punishment he did not quite think he really deserved. This is who he wanted to be—this was who he is. And Chloe Decker loved him; that was all he needed.

He moved his fingers in and out of her with a certain relish. His thumb found her clit and he drew patterns on it with a dexterity that should not have surprised her, but it did. She had never been loved like this before—and, she supposed, that no one could ever love her quite like this again after him.

If she had anything to say about it, there would be no after him for her.

"Luce, sweetie—"

"I am loving your pet name choices, darling," he said, delighted and smug.

"Stop ruining it."

With that, he curled his fingers inside her again.

It made her cry out and practically jump up from the bed. His weight pressed her down. She folded her knees up, the soles of her feet dragging beneath the sheets as he continued to pleasure her with his fingers.

"Want you," she hummed, barely audible. "I want you."

He dropped his head to her neck, his lips finding her pulse and sucking on it as she reached for him between his legs. His cock was only just starting to come back to life and at her touch, it twitched and he groaned into the pillow beneath her.

"Fuck, Chloe," he whined as she stroked him—sticky and half hard in her hand. He pushed his fingers inside her as far as they would go and she moaned at the feeling.

"Deeper," she asked. "Want you deeper."

"Keep at it, love," he said, withdrawing his fingers from her. Chloe kept stroking his cock, feeling him grow harder in her hand by the second.

Lucifer made a show of sucking his fingers, coated in the film of her arousal for him with remnants of his own in patches of it. Before he could suck on his middle finger, however, she reached up for his hand, and sucked him clean of her instead. The shape of her lips around his finger made him think of what she would look like with his cock in her mouth—which was exactly her intention, with the intensity of the way she looked at him with those sinfully dark blue eyes. He felt her tongue run flat on his skin and he stared, open mouthed, at the sight of her like that. She didn't break eye contact with him once and she held his attention right there.

"Did you dream of that too?"

Chloe smiled with her eyes and took in his whole finger in her mouth. Slowly, she started to pull away—she matched the speed in which she sucked his finger by the speed in which she stroked his cock from the balls up. By the time she got to the tip of his finger, she gave it a little cheeky bite and a full grin. She swiped the tip of him with her thumb and she reached up and licked it off.

"What do you think?" she teased.

"Fuck," was all he could say, staring at her with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. Her grin was everything he wanted.

He'd grown fully erect at that display. With short kisses down from her neck, he sucked at the skin between her breasts in a way that he knew would leave even more marks. She would be covered in them come morning—which was exactly by design. He couldn't wait to see his work but he enjoyed the process nonetheless. Lucifer brought himself back up and rested his forehead on hers.

They locked eyes for a moment and he let himself freeze there for a second.

"You trust me, my love?" he whispered.

"With everything," she replied just as softly.

"Turn around," he said, his hands at her hips. Her eyes went wide.

"Lucifer, I'm not r—"

"No, not that. Not yet," he said. "Don't you worry. It'll feel good for you, I promise."

Chloe looked him in the eye, paused, and then nodded. With significant effort, she managed to roll over to lay on her belly. Above her, Lucifer didn't waste any time as he brushed her long, blonde hair away from her back and he kissed the nape of her neck and he trailed his sweet, long kisses down the length of her spine. She rested her cheek on the pillow and let him worship her with his kisses.

Then, she felt the loss of his presence just behind her and he his hands pull her hips up. Her knees pressing on the bed, her ass up in the air for him, she worried that he might go there—anal was not quite on the table yet for her. But he asked her to trust him, so she did. He wouldn't go there without asking, she knew that.

"Relax, sweetheart," he said and she felt his hand press against the base of her spine, gently pushing down to ease her tense muscles.

Lucifer positioned himself behind her and she felt the tip of him just by her overheated, sensitive folds.

"Oh shit," she managed to say. He chuckled as he eased in the tip of his cock home inside her.

In the time they've spent together now, she thought she'd grown accustomed to the way he felt inside her. But this angle was something else entirely. Something new. Something wonderful. Something sacred, sinful, and unholy.

Her brain practically short-circuited when he buried himself to the hilt inside of her from behind.

Chloe gasped as turned her head to scream into the pillow. She bit it, muffling her loud groans, as he thrust inside her from the bag. Her thighs, her knees—they were shaking. His hands firmly held her by the waist and he kept pushing inside of her from that angle. She thought she might fucking pass out—which had never happened before. Never had she ever been fucked so well and truly good that she would pass out from an orgasm.

Her hips met his pace, slow and steady at first but growing steadily more rapid. Harder and deeper as his pace started to quicken. Again, she was rendered at a loss for words but she missed the feeling of him so close to her. As good as it felt to have him from behind, she missed his heat—his lips.

"Wait, wait," she said, reaching from behind her. Her hand managed to reach for his hands and he stopped immediately. She felt him start to pull out of her. "No, no. Stay there." He raised a brow that she could not see, tilting his head as he tried to figure out what she wanted. "Just lean into me. Come here."

He did as she bid, covering her frame with his, and when he was close enough, she kissed him for a long while, slipping him her tongue, and he moaned into her lips.

"Can you keep going from here?" she asked. "I want you close."

"Of course, darling."

Lucifer, now hunched over her, left kisses on her neck, her back. She reached for his arm that was pulling her to him and he kept up his pace inside her, but now so much closer to her. Chloe was screaming her moans beneath him, on the point of near collapse. He kept a hand by her hips but his other roamed to her breasts, rolling and pinching at her nipples.

She chanted his name, over and over again, like a prayer. Like a spell. What he was doing to her, after all, was pure fucking magic.

In her life, the most she'd ever gotten from sexual partners was three orgasms in the span of a whole night—and that was on her honeymoon and only ever on her honeymoon since. And yet, here he was, coaxing out her… she'd lost count of how many he'd already given her and at that point, she didn't know when one orgasm started and the next one began. And while he panted into her and caught his breath just the same, he didn't seem to be tiring of any time soon.

"Chloe," he moaned into her ear, sucking on her earlobe from behind.

"Pull my hair," she asked and he complied, the hand that was servicing her breasts then reaching up to her blonde locks, grasp with just enough pressure for pleasurable pain, and pulled her head back just so. It gave him more room to kiss at her neck while he continued his manic, powerful thrusts into her from behind.

She knew she was sore between her legs but he felt so good, slipping in and out of her the way he did. Her ass met his hips in sync to his thrusts and the sound of slapping skin that they made only aroused her more.

The knowing tightness returned to her, pleasure pooling almost painfully between her legs, and she started to squirt in between his thrusts. Lucifer didn't stop, knowing that the noises she was making meant that she was close to that high again.

"That's it," he coaxed. "That's my girl. That's it."

He let go of her hair and reached down to rub at her clit. His hands and the sheets coated in her arousal. She dropped her hands to the pillow and clutched them until her knuckles turned white. Chloe pushed up against him, wanting that sweet friction from him.

"I'm—" she keened. "I'm going to—"

Her legs gave out from under her as she came again, loud, trying to catch her breath, but this time, Lucifer gave her no room to breathe.

He flipped her over and her head met the pillow with sudden force. He quickly brushed her hair away from her face. Spreading her practically boneless legs for him, he entered her again and she arched her back—she was still riding the wave of that last orgasm, she felt too tight.

Chloe choked back a sob. "Luce—Lucifer, baby, I can't—"

"Yes, you can," he said, pressing her down hard as he made love to her.

She did not want him to stop and yet, her entire body felt as if it were about to combust. All life as she knew it, she felt, were stopping instantaneously, and she felt like every molecule in her body was bursting at the speed of light—total protonic fucking reversal.

Lucifer pushed at her thighs and had her spreading her legs wider. Pliant to his touch, she followed where he pushed, and she was babbling out nonsense that she could not quite understand. Most of it was some attempt to moan out his name but it kept getting disturbed, her breath kept hitching in her throat.

"So good," he muttered as he continued on his punishing pace. "So fucking good, Chloe, darling."

"K-keep doing that," she managed to say. "Talk to me. Want to hear your voice."

Lucifer drove into her hard and her hips matched his pace, despite how exhausted her limbs were—despite how her vision already started to blur. His knees dug deep into his mattress and all around them, the mattress whined at the pressure of their activity upon it.

Bodies electric, Chloe and her wanton cries underneath him—he could barely breathe. He felt as though time around him had slowed and the only thing he could think of and see and feel was her—she was the sole creature in the entire goddamn scope of things in the entire universe that mattered.

Her legs were shaking and he kept his hands firm at her waist. He was getting close again, he could feel it near bursting inside of him—the tightness by his balls, the strain on his cock. He felt his wings burst out and unfurl from behind him and Chloe could only scream and tightened around him. The wings helped press her down even more into the bed.

"So tight around me, darling," he whispered to her ear, sultry and soft despite how hard and fast and deep he was going. "So warm and wet inside you." He licked at her neck, tasting the sweet salt of her sweat. "So perfect. So bloody perfect."

He kissed her forehead. "Fucking divine."

He kissed her.

Hard.

He pressed his body closer to her as he buried himself inside her as deep as he could. Her lips had forgotten how to move so he captured her lower lip between his teeth and suckled on them as he moved. Her fingernails scraped at his arms, at a loss for what to do. Each flutter of his wings made her overheated skin feel cool. Her blue eyes had a glossy, faraway look on them—as if she were close to entering another plane of reality.

"I love you, Chloe," he prayed to her. "I love you so much."

Their blood turned to fire in their veins—pure, liquid starlight. It remembered the very first parts of them that knew each other from that first day when there was light and that was all there was. The First Law of Thermodynamics stated that energy could not be changed—only transformed. It was only then logical that in their atoms still held the memory of that first light.

Now, as they reached that simultaneous supernova of the senses, Lucifer brought her back to that state in the first darkness. To nothing at all.

And then, there was light.

And it was him.

It was always going to be him.

Chloe Jane Decker passed out after that.

She'd woken about an hour after that sex-induced coma and found his smug, smiling face beaming down at her as she blinked away the exhaustion from her eyelids. Her limbs thrummed with electricity and seeing him look so fucking pleased with himself made her want to roll her eyes and laugh. So, she did.

"I told you I'd be good," he said.

"You're not human," she teased, her throat sore and her voice husky.

"I'll take that as a compliment. Because I'm not."

"How was I?" she asked, softly spoken.

"Magnificent," he replied, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "1 out of 1 would definitely recommend."

"Just one?"

"Do you really think I'm ever going to let anyone else in on this?"

She was still wearing the bullet necklace. Well, seems as if they've both penetrated each other now. Lucifer's smile turned into a full-blown, wicked grin.

"You should have tried harder to get me here if you were going to be that good," she said.

"Darling, we've barely scratched the surface," he said. Chloe snuggled in closer to him, head resting on his smooth, bare chest. He played with her hair absentmindedly. "You should probably go the bathroom, though."

She made a noise of complaint. "Oh right. Yeah."

Chloe rose to get up and the bones of her back crackled and popped. She stretched it out and her muscles whined at the sudden movement. In the dim light of the morning just before dawn, barely lit by the lights still on at his bar, he saw the beginning of darkened bruises on her skin where his lips and hands had been. He smirked at the sight.

When she tried to swing her legs over the bed and stand up, she nearly fell over. "Oh fuck."

Lucifer didn't even try to hide the chortle as he watched. Chloe threw him a look, smiling but a twinkling mischief in her eye. "Yeah, try not to be too pleased with yourself."

"Shan't!" he teased in a sing-song voice. She laughed.

He watched her wobble her way to his bathroom to relieve herself. And when she came back and settled to his side beneath his defiled sheets, she fell back to sleep rather quickly, exhaustion making their home in her bones.

Outside, the breeze blew into his penthouse and quiet settled over them. Outside, California slept soundly. Even the nightclubs were spent for the night and the city was dark, quiet, and at peace.

As Chloe made herself comfortable in his arms and slept soundly, Lucifer looked up at his ceiling. He licked his lips, heart hammering in his chest. And in the quiet, he started to pray.

"Dad…" he said softly. "I know I haven't ever been the son You always wanted. And I'm still not Your biggest fan, let's make that perfectly clear. And I've… I've reviled You and I've cursed You and…"

She stirred in his embrace as she slept. He held her closer to him.

"Look, the point is… we've got our issues, You and I, and we're always going to have our issues," he said, looking back up at the sky, facing his Father. Praying for the first time since he got shot and died for the first time. He thought of Raziel, somehow, and knew that this had been something she wanted for him all along. And he said, "But just for tonight, I—please, I just—"

Part of him wanted to beg—beg his Father to not take her and this away from him. To let him stay in this bliss, this bespoke Eden for all the rest of time.

Yet he knew that this, right then, would always belong to him. Not even God could take this moment in time away from him. And Raziel said that no one could predict the future—and that, as time was in constant flux thanks to the free will of humans, was a comfort in itself.

He could not always protect her—but he swore to himself then that he would love her through it all. In good times and in bad, for better and for worse.

And so, he said the only thing that could come to mind.

"Thank You," he prayed to God. "Thank You for her."

Lucifer fell asleep shortly after. The pair of them, exhausted, would not rise for another few hours—closer to noon than anything and they would enjoy each other once again. Leave more marks, plant more kisses.

But as they slept, the breeze continued to flit in – as the sun started to rise, a single card flew in and settled on top of the piano.

A tarot card with its back painted in starlight.

On it were The Lovers, now painted in the likeness of an angel—and the devil who loved her.