Chloe’s in her own personal Hell loop. Surely, this is not how Tribe Night’s supposed to go.
It’s her own damned fault, she gathers; it was her idea to include the newly returned Eve in their sporadic meetings, much to Maze’s unrestrained delight. She just didn’t think she’d regret the decision so fast.
She does; she totally does.
Of all the places on this rotten earth, they decide to meet at Lux. The party, a welcome back hurrah for the absentee owner who just reappeared after an extensive six-month ‘business’ trip, is in full swing, and the drinks are flowing like water. Chloe shifts uneasily in her seat and pulls at her too-short skirt. Damn Maze and Eve for talking her into this silly outfit.
To her greatest surprise, the naughty pair of women seem to be incredibly invested in her budding, slow-burning, unbelievably chaste relationship with the Devil. They are an abundant cornucopia of various advice that, to Chloe’s great horror and mortification, all seem to be of a certain nature.
Unsurprisingly, none of the input thrust her way contains any information regarding Lucifer’s favourite shows, beloved restaurants, or preferable vacation spots.
“Oooh, ohhhh, ohhhh!” Eve cries, spilling appletini on the table in their private booth, “when you go down on him, don’t forget to swirl your tongue counter-clockwise, he really likes that one!”
Maze and Linda hum in agreement, Ella howls and nearly snorts her mojito. Chloe turns a deeper shade of red.
“And grab his rather average balls,” Maze supplies, and her smile is all teeth, gleaming in the low light of the club, “you know, when you get tired of sucking him off; it makes him cum like a shooting star. Ha-ha.”
Eve giggles and leans into the demon, her eyes heavy with drink.
“Oh, I get it!” she croons and bites her lower lip; even Chloe has to agree it’s pretty hot, “‘like a shooting star’; that’s clever!”
“Guahh,” Maze provides and swallows, and Ella laughs drunkenly.
“You guys should totally bone,” she slurs and leans back in her seat, “like Decker and Lucifer. I bet they do it every spare moment. Seriously, Chlo’,” she says turning her unfocused attention to the embarrassed detective, “how are you still walking?”
This gets Maze attention, and she turns to Chloe, her eyes narrow and sharp.
“Yeah, Decker,” she drones, “how are you still walking?”
An awkward silence ensues, in which Chloe tries to look at everything but the women at her table. After a few seconds, Linda whispers, “Oh”, and bites her lips.
“What?” Ella asks frantically, looking around the table with wide eyes, “what?”
“They’ve not done yet,” Linda supplies as gently as the loud music will allow. Chloe raises her eyes to look at all four women staring at her in stunned stillness.
“Nope,” she confirms weakly, “they haven’t.”
“What’s the hold-up?” Ella asks, just as Maze mutters, “just stick a finger up his ass, Decker.”
Chloe squeaks in horror.
“You should ask him to go down on you”, Linda offers impishly, “that will get him going.”
“Oh, yes,” Eve agrees dreamily, “he really loves doing that. There was this one night, back when we were together - he spent the entire time with his head between my thighs. Definitely get him to do that!”
Ella gapes at Eve, Maze and Linda are nodding their assent. Chloe feels like knocking her head against the table.
At about 2 am, Chloe stumbles out of the elevator and into the dimly lit penthouse, tipsy and more courageous than she felt in ages.
Lucifer is sitting in his armchair, reading a book, a half-full tumbler of whisky in his hand. He stayed away tonight, giving her and the girls their space. But she doesn’t want space, she doesn’t want time; not anymore.
He lifts his head and smiles at her, his lips wide and open. She can see his teeth glistening softly, can tell how his eyes light up when they take in her features.
“Hello, darling,” he murmurs softly, “did you enjoy your night?”
Chloe deposits herself into his lap unceremoniously, nearly upsetting his drink in the process, but he only chuckles good-naturedly and puts his book down.
“I did,” she says, the colour rising in her already flushed cheeks, “but I missed you.”
He does not answer, but his smile is wider when he brings his whisky to his lips.
Her heart thudding in her chest, her breath stuttering in her throat, Chloe leans into him and whispers, “I want you to eat me out, please.”
Lucifer chokes on his drink and starts coughing wildly; Chloe smiles giddily and bites her lower lip.
When he’s got his breathing under control again, he turns to her, wide-eyed and dazed.
“Right,” he mutters hoarsely, and Chloe giggles.
Turns out, she doesn’t need to stick her finger up his butt, after all.