AN: A sexy 666 snippet to go with that sizzling teaser and in celebration of Lucifer's official season 4 release date!

"It's curly."

Lucifer hums an easy acknowledgement, but does nothing more. Not even when she raises a hand and buries curious fingers into his ebony tresses.

"It's…" she twirls a lock around her pointer and barely manages to swallow the giggle—she is certain he would not appreciate it—that threatens to spill from her lips. She is, however, helpless against her mounting admiration.

"Adorable."

Affronted, he rouses from the light slumber he had been slowly slipping into, the silk sheets pooling at their waists and exposing their bare flesh to the cool, midnight air of the penthouse when he sits up to throw her a properly intimidating stare. Her hand falls back to her side.

"You take that back!"

This time, she does nothing to stop her laughter. And why should she? He is as disheveled as she's ever seen him, with sleep lines creased onto one side of his cheek, his scruff running amok all the way down to his neck and his hair!

Free from its usual product, it is wild, feral, inky chaos. Should their nudity not have been clue enough, then one need only look at the mass of curls strewn all about atop his head for evidence of their amorous activities. Along with his swollen lips, mottled neck and the ribbons of scratch marks scattered along his arms and back, of course.

I did that, she thinks rather gleefully. I fucked the Devil, and he looks wrecked.

Well, he looked it, at least. Now he just seems pissed.

"Detective," he warns at the sight of her twitching digits.

"But it's so… so—"

"Annoying, is what it is."

He attempts to smooth a cowlick by his right ear, but as if to prove his point, it remains resolute in its disobedience.

"Bloody things take hours to tame with a king's ransom of hair products, and it's felled in minutes!"

He huffs at the tendril that's strayed to the middle of his forehead in resentment. She quirks an eyebrow in his direction.

"Are you saying sex with me is an inconvenience?" she motions to leave the bed. "Cause I'd be happy to—"

She doesn't get a chance to express just what she'd be happy to do, but by his growl and her subsequent viewpoint of the ceiling as he twines his arms possessively around her waist, he guesses the remainder of the sentiment.

"Chloe," he grumbles, the circle of his limbs tightening when she feigns an escape by squirming only for her to brush against his hardening length.

"Lucifer," she returns archly, a delicious shiver rippling down her spine when his chest cossets her sensitive breasts as he braces his forearms on either side of her head and hovers his face but centimeters from her own.

"They're a nuisance," he whispers, eyes half-lidded as they trace the path her tongue makes along the bow of her bottom lip only to blow wide open when she tips her chin to lick the same trail along the bend of his succulent, sinful mouth.

He moans, thrusting slightly against the space between her thighs.

"I kinda like them," she breathes, hands returning to the aforementioned riotous tufts.

"Pity," he drawls, denying her the kiss she had been goading him into giving her. Instead, he meanders down the curve of her neck before stopping to lick at the valley between her breasts. She whines, twisting so his mouth might suckle at where she desires him to, but he skillfully evades her with a vindictive chuckle.

"I don't care for my curls, no."

He continues his teasing nips down her body till she is taut with lust at his wicked ministrations.

"Not when I prefer these."

He flashes her a grin and she doesn't understand till he's nosing at the blonde coils at her mound, his jaw dropping obscenely low before he dips his tongue inside her.

She latches a hand in his rebellious, raven curls.

They don't much talk for a while after that.

AN: Ya'll. He is risen. May 8 babyyyy!

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