For Who Could Ever Love a Beast

Part Four

It was several hours later that Chloe woke up, having realized she'd fallen asleep on Lucifer. He'd moved since then and so had she. She was on her side and tucked under the blanket, facing him; there were only ten or so inches between them and she found herself watching him as he slept.

His lips were slightly parted as he breathed in an out slowly. His long dark lashes—ones she'd never really taken note of before—fell gently on his upper cheeks. His brows were relaxed, and she couldn't help but recall the way they rose just so when he became disbelieving at something, or, just curious—usually about something totally inappropriate. And that thought made her smile. His hair too... he looked really boyish with a stray curl falling along his temple.

She supposed she should feel embarrassed, but she just couldn't find the will or the desire. She hadn't really gotten into bed with the intention of falling asleep, but if she were honest with herself, she hadn't planned on crashing on the couch when she'd agreed to stay anyway. Beyond that, she felt rested—happy.

Had it been less than a day since the fight with Pierce, Cain; since she'd found out the truth about him, about Maze and Amenadiel; since he'd risked everything to keep her from being shot to death? The fear that had plagued her was gone. Granted, it was still a lot to take in, but she'd gotten through the worst of the shock. Any real fear she felt towards Lucifer at this point was replaced with doubt. Despite what Maze had said to her she still wasn't sure. He was a being born of a god; practically a god himself, at least in comparison to her.

Chloe sighed, reaching out as she did so. Her fingers brushed along his temple, pushing the errant strands away. She let her thumb swipe down along his brow, the side of his face, and then she let her knuckles caress his cheek. "What could I possibly offer you?" she murmured to the silence of the room, to the sleeping man next to her. "What could you possibly see in someone like me? Hell," she sighed softly as she began to pull her hand away, "I'm not even remotely the kind of supermodel you normally spend time with." But just before she pulled away entirely, a hand came around her wrist and chocolate browns locked on her. He wasn't hurting her, but she did jump in surprise.

"Chloe." Her name rolled off his lips, lathered in a timber of sound uniquely Lucifer; deep as it was, she could hear the vulnerability in it. It sunk beneath her skin like liquid sin and wove into her—making her feel both anticipatory and suddenly wanting. Her abdomen warmed with it and she knew that if she felt between her legs, there would be a distinct moisture that was anything but sweat.

She licked her lips, at a loss for words.

"You chose me," he said finally. "Not because of what you could take from me, and not because you thought I was something I wasn't. Stars, Chloe," he whispered as he released her wrist and pulled her into an embrace—bringing her close enough to touch her forehead to his, "you saw me at my worst and you stayed. A better question would be, what could you possibly see in me?"

Her heart fluttered at that, reminding her of what Maze had told her. His words were almost an exact echo of what she'd told Chloe. And now he was asking her to explain herself—to explain why she hadn't run from him after the fight, after she'd seen the monster he'd believed himself to be.

She'd already told him, but that had been in the heat of the moment before—to get him to listen to her. Now... now maybe she needed to say more. To help him understand the same way she needed those assurances. Which... seemed insane because of who he was.

It didn't help that he was inadvertently distracting her.

His hands felt good on her back, especially with how he was gently rubbing circles along her spine. It was an idle action that made it hard for her to focus on his words. Shit, he felt good; smelled good. Even so, she found her voice—found the words he needed to ear—as she maneuvered her hand to rest in the center of his chest.

"You have a good heart," she murmured. "I always thought you were attractive—who wouldn't?" she said with a smile. "And I have no doubt you're very good in bed. I never really doubted you before, but now that I'm fully aware of just how old you are, I'm more than convinced." It was his turn to smile. "But that's not why I fell in love with you," she went on more seriously. "I fell in love with you because of your heart—your passionate heart that refuses to do anything halves, that believes in doing the right thing, that wants to see justice done for those who've had their voice taken from them. I fell in love with the man who, despite his best efforts otherwise, wears his heart on his sleeve. I catch sight of it when you think nobody is looking, but I see it the most with my daughter—with the victims we save.

"So yes," she said in finality, while taking in a deep breath, "there are other parts of you that are amazing—that entice me as much as anyone else. But those are just the bonus parts; not the core of who you are. Not the part that made me stay when everything else told me to run."

There was silence after that and she wondered what he was thinking. Her eyes were shut because of how close they were, and she desperately wanted to see his reaction. But when she tried to pull back he held fast. "Lucifer...?"

"I'm alright," he murmured, moving so his face became buried in her hair.

She smiled at that and wrapped an arm around him, shifting slightly to do so. Then she squeezed him to her, inhaling once—taking in the unique scent that she was coming to take comfort in. And then, once he'd loosened his hold on her enough, she pulled back to look at him. He met her gaze—tousled hair, boyish uncertainty she'd never in a million years have imagined on his face, and chocolate brown eyes that seemed to be endless—and took it all in.

"Lucifer?" she asked softly.

"Yes, Detective?"

She smirked at that, catching the laughter in his eyes. But she didn't comment on the title, or the authoritative sexual undertone is sparked—that he was surely aware of. Instead, she said—without a hint of hesitation much to her own surprise, "I don't think I've ever wanted you more than I do right now."

It must have caught him totally off guard, because he looked at her as if she'd grown a third eye. "Pardon?"

She smiled, deciding actions were sometimes infinitely better than words. So she rolled on top of him, the heated center of her pressing into his crotch. In one smooth motion she pulled off the shirt she'd borrowed from him, tossed it aside, and pressed her lips to his. His reaction was instantiations; he sucked a breath in through his nose, his hands came to slide up her sides and settled on her back, and his hips thrust upward at the same time a groan of want hummed in his throat.

And fuck it felt good. Amazing and perfect and—

And then he pushed her away, gasping sharply. He held fast to her shoulders even as she tried to kiss him again. Her eyes opened and she met his gaze, confused. Why would he stop? Hadn't he wanted this, well, since the first time the met? Hadn't he been the one to parade around her naked just to try and entice her into bed? "What's wrong? I thought—"

"I want to," he told her. "You have no idea how badly I want to, De—Chloe."

"But?"

He exhaled again, eyes shutting briefly. "I have to tell you something first."

"Ok... well..." She hesitated, considering if this was really a good time, but decided whatever the hell it was couldn't be any bigger of a deal than finding out her partner and about-to-be-lover was Satan himself. "What is it?"

"The invulnerability thing we talked about earlier? There's more to it than just invulnerability, or rather a lack thereof. Though, I think that has more to do with me and metaphor than what I'm about to tell you."

"Ok but... um..." She didn't know what that had to do with anything, but she did want to know what he'd been hiding from her. The reason he's gotten upset with Maze. Her brow knit. "Is this about what you wanted to talk about tomorrow?"

"Yes, but that was before you decided you wanted to elevate our physical relationship." He frowned, the hands on her shoulders gentling, caressing slightly as everything about him seemed to shift between tense and defeated. "At any rate, it wouldn't be fair to you for us to take this step without giving you all the information."

She smiled softly at him. "I'm sure whatever it is I can handle it."

He smiled tightly in return, and then began his explanation. "Years ago my father gave Amenadiel a task. He sent him down to Earth to your mother and made it so she would have a child. You are a miracle. Literally. Your parents wouldn't have been able to have you otherwise.

"And then he put you in my path—wanting us to meet."

Chloe stilled at that, her mind unsure as to what to latch onto first. "Wait... so... hold on..." A pause. "Is my dad my dad or—."

"Your father is your real father, I assure you. My father merely made it possible for your parents to conceive. That's all."

"Ok... That's... I think I can deal with that." She still didn't move, to continue what they'd been doing or to stop. "When did you find this out?" She wondered aloud, figuring news like this must have freaked him out—the whole 'path' thing.

"Just before I left for Vegas." His smile was wane.

And it hit her why—all of it. "You ran from me," she half accused, her fingers inadvertently digging into the skin of his chest. "Was that why? Because you were afraid of me or something—"

"Yes," he interrupted her in answer, his eyes locked on hers—unwavering. "I was terrified my father was trying to manipulate me. That he was using you to use me. And beyond being used by him—controlled—I didn't want you to be his pawn. But... today has more than disproven that, it seems."

"What do you mean?"

"You can't imagine how impossible it is for a human being to look at my Devil Face and push through that fear—to see beyond it and stay. And you were terrified. Those reactions were real—I would have known if you were lying to me, Chloe. If my father had wanted use me by using you, he would have made that fear impossible in you. He would have made it so you were unaffected by it—like a too tempting carrot.

"But it was there all the same—that fear. That's how I know your actions were your own. Because you chose to stay in spite of that fear. You chose me."

Chloe let out a shaky breath at that—at the emotions that were weaving through her too fast and too strong to slow or control. She licked her lips, unable to stop the way she trembled with it all—not knowing whether to laugh or cry.

"What's wrong?" he asked, reaching up to cup her cheek. She turned her face into the caress.

"Nothing. I just think you're very good at conveying your feelings when you really want to. At making me love you. But," she went on, smiling at him knowingly, "You're very dishonest for someone who claimed he'd never lie to me."

He looked insulted at that, but when he opened his mouth to argue she swallowed his words with a kiss. He tensed at first, but then softened under her entirely after a moment. When she pulled away she murmured, "You did a very good job of pretending you didn't have feelings for me."

He frowned at her even as she smiled, but eventually sighed and said, "Point taken."

She was about to kiss him again, but gasped when he rolled them both over—pressing the length of his body along hers. Her body hummed with heated anticipation when he settled between her legs and murmured, "My turn, Detective," across her lips before kissing her.

She arched into him, her hands sliding down, her thumbs hooking into the waistband of his sleeping pants even as he nipped at her lower lip—as his masterful mouth moved to her neck, biting once there in a particularly sensitive spot. She didn't even try to stop the way she cried out, her hips bucking into his.

"Oh, Detective—my Detective," he groaned and half growled into her throat, "You have no idea how good I plan to make this for you." Even as he finished speaking he was pulling away from her to help with what she'd started—to fully remove the pants she'd been tugging at. As he did so she took that moment to remove the last of her own clothes, her underwear.

As soon as she'd shoved them aside he was right back where he'd been, this time hovering over her—kissing her once again, hard, fast, and leaving her breathless once he'd pulled away. But she didn't really process it once his mouth was on her breast, tongue swirling a pattern around her areola. She exhaled a shaky breath and her fingers slid into his hair, weaving into silken locks. She couldn't help the way her nails just barely dug in when he moved to the other breast—nipping once playfully—and then lower... lower still.

How long had it been?

She didn't want to think about Marcus just then, so she forced the thought away. Even so, she knew it hadn't felt this good just at the start. And while he had been talented with his mouth, it just didn't compare. He certainly hadn't started there. Hell, Dan never had either, not that she could recall.

Her fingers dug into the sheets under her; she was pretty sure if she touched him again she'd be drawing blood considering the way he curving his fingers upward inside of her and hitting just the right fucking spot to make her cry out over and over again—not quite orgasming yet, but close enough. Combined with the way he alternating between lapping at her and swirling his tongue around her clit and she felt near to tears.

"Lucifer..." she gasped. "Please... I..." And then he let her fall apart. There was just no other way to describe it—the way he hit the right place at the right time, the way he barely grazed his teeth over her clit, and the way it left her uncoiling and bursting with a flood of euphoria and overwhelming sensation.

She rode that high as he moved back up and kissed her deeply—lazily. She was so sated she didn't even mind the taste of herself on his lips. All at once she was lethargic and roused for more, feeling like she was sinking into him even as she spread her legs and urged him onward.

"Chloe—."

"Now," she said against his mouth, her fingers digging into his buttocks—pulling him towards her. He didn't hesitate. And she was so wet, he was so hard and ready for her, that it took no effort for him to slide home—as if he'd been made for her. Even so, the sensation made her groan into mouth as he filled her—stretching her.

"Impatient girl," he admonished. "I'd had so much more in mind," This he said as he thrust into her, breathing against her neck and nipping there once—hard—as if to punish her.

"Later," she gasped.

"Indeed," he growled in return as he quickened his pace, as he pulled back and lifted her legs to his chest. She cried out as he met her gaze, pushing forward. The angle made it so he hit deep, that each time he thrust into her it was tight and sensitive.

"Fuck," she gasped, refusing to break his gaze. So she just held on—hands grasping at the headboard behind her for leverage, watching him as he watched her. And as she came undone—again—she had the pleasure of watching him completely unravel himself. Because of her. Because she loved him.

Even so, despite the intensity of the moment, she couldn't help the laughter that escaped her when his wings shot out of his back.

"Well..." he muttered in a gasp of laughter himself, "That hasn't happened in a few dozen centuries or so. A testament to you, darling." He gave her a weak salute as best he could while hovering over her, smiling all the same. "I somehow doubt you will ever cease to surprise me."

She smiled in return even as he slid out of her, unable to stop the way one of her feet—because he legs were still resting on his shoulders—caressed the top of a wing idly. But just as soon as they were there, they were gone. He rolled over to lay next to her with a sigh. Chloe curled up next to him, one arm wrapping about his middle.

"Hey, Lucifer," she whispered.

"Hm?"

"You know this means we're dating, right?"

He laughed out loud at that. "Oh, Detective," he murmured as he rolled over and pulled her close to him, his mouth delivering a husky hush of words across her lips, "You can call it whatever you like, darling, but it's definitely a bit more than that. Especially if it means I'm—for the first time since, well, the beginning of The Fall, totally and utterly off the market.

"I rather like to think I'm yours with as much fervor that I consider you to be mine." He hesitated. "Well, I do mean that in the least patriarchal way possible, I promise. I do like to think of myself as the original instigator of female freedom." His brow wrinkled in the boyish way she'd come to adore.

She smiled against his mouth, deciding that she was fine that. "I'm yours," she agreed before kissing him and whispering, "Always."

AN :: I want to apologize. I had this on my computer for a while now and just utterly forgot to update the damn thing on FF. UGH. You can tell my brain is fried from school. So fried. I'm trying to manage my writing time better seeing as how I have sever fics to finish up.

At any rate, it's done. Glad you enjoyed it! And as always—reviews are love, but are not required or expected.

—Blade