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Like a Prayer

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It isn’t the light from passing cars that stops the crickets chirping just outside Chloe’s bedroom window, it is the sound. It is the rumbling echo of tires on wet pavement that momentarily frightens them into silence. When they kick back up, they join the subtle hum of her vibrator and the clacking of the pull-chains on the spinning ceiling fan above her bed.  Outside of these small ambient noises, the inside of her bedroom is still and quiet.

Private.

Chloe’s hand moves up to her mouth, and she bites it to stifle a moan. She bends her knees so that her feet lay flat against the bed, barely disturbing the rolled back comforters.

“Shit,” she whines, her hips lifting off the bed as her hand pushes the vibrator deeper into her pussy. She rotates her pelvis as she sinks the toy as far as it can go. This particular toy has a smaller vibrator that slaps up against her clit each time it is fully seated inside of her. It proves too much stimulation for now, and she pulls it away, her body slowly lowering to the mattress. She continues to undulate, plunging the toy in and out of her in long, slow strokes.

Her body is on fire.

Beads of sweat form on her chest, despite the running air conditioner and the fan above her. They swell and pool into the valley between her breasts.

She exhales a charged breath. This feels so much better than it usually does. The better it feels, the slicker her toy gets with her juices. Thank fuck it's waterproof because she is more than wet. She is soaking. But how can she not be with the devil on her mind? She had recently dug the fantasy of him out of her memory, and it is clearly as powerful as before.

Before there was Eve, or Father Kinley, or Rome, or even Marcus Pierce, there was just Lucifer.

Just him lying beside the soft light of her bedside lamp, his body crashing into hers as she stared into those deep, dark-brown meres of want and need.

She bites her lower lip.

In her fantasy, his cock fills her to the hilt as he pants her name. Not her pet name, either, her real name.

Chloe.

“Lucifer,” she whimpers. His name escapes her lips softly, like a whisper or a prayer. She sinks the toy into her faster, her body continuing to lubricate each push and pull. The small vibrator bumps against her clit, and her body jolts before she quickly pulls it away.

She slides a hand down to act as a shield. Then, she pushes the toy all the way into her, as deep as it will go. Her mouth opens wide, and her eyes roll back in her head before her face contorts. It looks like she is in pain, but it is anything but.

“Yes,” she gasps, turning her eyes down to her hand that now rubs small circles over her clit. She lets her head fall against the pillow before closing her eyes and thinking about him again. About his scent, the heat of his body, his hands all over her, and her hands all over him. About him being done with Eve and maybe finally deciding to give them a chance, finally choosing to forgive her or to forgive himself.

“Lucifer,” she moans, her want for him no longer just about carnal pleasure. She ached for his touch, for his closeness. He was wildly infuriating and childish, but thinking about the way he looks at her beneath those impossibly long eyelashes makes her body weep with desire.

“You feel so good,” she whines, fucking herself harder. She opens her legs further, opening herself for him, wanting him to see it all. A wave of heat rolls over her and is shadowed by a cold draft from the fan above.

Her nipples harden painfully beneath the breeze, and she removes her hand from her clit to cup her breasts. A palm runs over the sensitive bud, and she hums, the feeling a perfect mixture of pain and pleasure. This is when she reaches her breaking point, unable to take the teasing anymore.

She snaps up in bed and turns onto her knees just as another headlight temporarily illuminates her bedroom. Thank God for curtains. She pushes her ass in the air and reaches a hand between her legs to feverishly push the vibrator into her. She imagines it is him, overcome with desire, and fucking her senseless from behind.

“Yes, just like that,” she whines as the vibrator begins to push back against her, her pussy more lubricated. It’s a really good fantasy. “Please, fuck me,” she begs, so close to the end of her rope.

Her hips begin to push back against her hand, wanting more, needing more. The vibrator whines and hums inside her body, spinning and thrusting inside her wetness. She’s almost there.

“Shit,” she whimpers, her face in the pillow.

She imagines him inside her, rocking his way to the end of this fantasy like he has done many times before. She imagines his sounds, his whispers, and the delicate way he says her name.

Chloe.

Then, like always, she is catapulted into a heavenly release. Unlike any other time, however, his name leaves her lips so full of want that it strips bare the veil of denial. She falls into her trembling orgasm.

She reaches a hand out and grips the folded edge of her comforter tightly. She holds onto it, her mouth open in a silent yell. Halfway through, when she’s lasted the most intense wave of her orgasm, she lets go of a breathy cry. “Ohh,” she howls into her pillow, her hand continuing to slowly push the vibrator into her until her orgasm ends.

Then, and only then, does she relent and collapse onto her stomach. Lazily she rotates onto her back and flips off the toy. Here, the sound of the fan above her becomes louder, as do the crickets outside. She pants, catching her breath.

Without the heat of lust enveloping her, the fan above her now blows unnervingly arctic winds over her cooling body. It peppers her skin with goosebumps, and her nipples harden again. This time the pain is not as sweet.  She lets go of a contented sigh. That was a good one.

She lays there, catching her breath, only pausing to swallow her spit and soothe a suddenly dry throat. Eventually, she sits up and slides the toy out of her. Another headlight passes by, and again it casts light through her window. The brief moment of illumination makes the wetness on her vibrator glisten before her room is plunged into the matte grey of night.

Outside of her fantasy, she is back to the loneliness of her bedroom. Lucifer was not hers, it turns out, and maybe he never would be. Not after Rome and Father Kinley, perhaps not even after Eve.

She had betrayed him and damaged his trust, irreparably so. And yet, despite all she had done, he was still here, and despite all he had done, so was she.

--

Around this time, Lucifer would usually be balls deep in a beautiful woman or two from the bar. Perhaps even three if Eve were up for it. Though, to be fair, Eve hardly said no to him.

He hums to himself, reflecting on that. His eyes squint as he turns his glance to the rest of his penthouse. It had been quiet since he ended things with Eve. Empty. Even more so since she and Maze started a romance. It seemed forced at first, but eventually, it was hard to see it as anything other. Not after Maze sang to Eve. After they rushed off in a flurry of kisses and wandering hands, stowing away to the nearest dark room. He huffs, blowing air through his nostril in amusement. Maze. In love. Imagine that.

He watches as his fingers glide effortlessly over the keys of his classic grand piano. It had been a strange few days. After his breakthrough with the Doctor, his body had slowly been overtaken by the red and angry flesh of his devil form. Coupled with the rantings of a religious madman and the truth behind Chloe’s betrayal, it had gotten to him. He had been convinced that evil would be released and who knows, perhaps in some unlucky version of this universe it had been. He had no doubt that Chloe’s presence had stopped him from becoming something more, but it also meant that she had seen him – all of him. She had seen the fallen, the result of the shame and anger that turned him into what he thought he was, a monster.

He furrows his eyebrows as he plays, thinking about how she could have run again, but she didn’t. She stayed with him and, despite her obvious terror, she spoke to him like she always had - with her heart. He tenses his jaw and turns his eyes to the umber liquid cradled in a glass on his piano.

Part of him wonders how he could ever trust her again, the other part … well, it longs for the times when he could, unequivocally. When things were simpler, and she looked at him as more than just the devil. He lets go of an exhausted sigh before reaching for the whiskey, his left hand keeping up his playing rhythm.

He lifts the warming liquid to his lips and sips. The burn is delicious, and he savors it before setting the glass back onto its coaster. His right-hand returns to join the left in song, and his body sways to the music. It is just about the only thing that soothes him these days. Everything else seems … chaotic. Irreparable.

He crosses his ankles, allowing his toes to arc and cradle each other. His back straightens, and he closes his eyes. He seems at peace, but behind his calm exterior, his mind rolls and turns with all that has transpired.

He thinks about everything. About Eve, About the prophecy, about Chloe running away to Rome, and about Cain. It seemed as if he could have done it differently, shown himself to the Detective in a way that didn’t have her outright reject him.

He opens his eyes and turns them to the piano. The joy is sucked out of his playing, but he continues anyway.  He smells it before he feels it, the clean scent of ozone like the outdoors after a fresh rain. It is followed by a strange and almost electric snap in the air, and he stops playing. It is quiet without the music, but there is a familiar – and building - hum in his ears.

He grunts, annoyed. “Oh, for crying out loud,” he grumbles, knowing what it means.

Someone, somewhere relatively close, is praying to him.

He sighs. Hearing the misguided prayers of humans who thought he gave a shit about goats and virgins was not what he needed right now. Still, he knows this feeling won’t go away until he at least hears them out. He’s tried to ignore them in the past, but it never ended well as it is impossible to sleep with the constant reminder that you’ve got mail.

He reaches out and grabs his glass of whiskey, ready to take a sip as he stills his spirit and makes himself receptive to whatever prayer is coming in.

Lucifer,” he hears, a breathy moan that sounds a lot like –

He spits his whiskey all over the front of his piano. “Chloe?” he asks, confused, before reaching a hand up to wipe the dribble from his bottom lip.

He stares out, the electric feeling slowly waning. Did she just pray to him? and was she just-

The electric feeling comes back and quickly, like the tide at night. He immediately tunes into it, like dialing into a radio.

Fuck,” he hears. It is quick and sharp but laced with pleasure. He huffs, his cock immediately pulling itself from slumber.

Is she diddling herself? He asks himself. He pauses and shakes his head. No, no way. There must be some other reason for-

Then that electric feeling again followed by a low, moaned,” Lucifer.”

His body slacks forward onto the piano, sending the crashing sound of dissonant notes through the penthouse. It is the most delicious thing he’s ever heard, her prayers. Blood rushes to a quickly rising erection, and he shakes his head. He shouldn’t be listening to this. He doubts she even knows she is praying to him.

Another crashing wave of electric energy hits him, and he ignores it. They were in a strange position right now, and the last thing he needed to do was violate her privacy. Yet, the longer the prayer goes unanswered, the higher the jitter in his body until he is practically shaking. He tenses his jaw and steels himself before letting go and allowing it to come through.

You feel so good,” he hears beneath the telltale whine of lust and pleasure.

“Bloody hell,” he huffs, his cock straining against his pants now. There was no stopping this. It would keep coming – no pun intended – until she was finished. He tenses his jaw and turns his eyes to the whiskey. He supposes there was no harm in lending an ear?

He reaches for the whiskey and downs the entire glass before setting it back on the coaster and stretching his arms across the piano, bracing himself.

He waits, both in dread and anticipation for the next prayer. When it comes, he lets it slide over him with ease.

Yes, just like that,” he hears before closing his eyes.

Fuck. He glances down towards the erection tenting his pajama pants and notices the telltale sign of precum seeping through the thin fabric.

Already? This woman would be the end of him. He sighs and reaches into his pants to pull out his cock.

“Fine,” he huffs. He just wouldn’t tell the Detective about this particular incident. They both needed relief, so why not?

“Tell me how you like it, Darling,” he says, his voice low and warm.

He strokes himself, waiting for the next prayer. While he waits, he reaches a hand up and squeezes his nipple. He hisses in pleasure. Then he feels it, rolling into his penthouse with a buzz.

Please, fuck me.”

“Oh ...” he groans, tilting his head back as he strokes himself faster, “Darling, I wish.”

 

His strokes are a little dry, so he pauses, spits in his hand, and rubs the saliva all over his cock. Then he goes back to working himself. The penthouse is silent for a long while, save for the sound of his pants and him wanking himself blind. He can’t hear her, but he knows she is still going. Still touching herself in delightful ways while pretending it is him. He hums lovingly before reaching a hand into his pants and pulling his testicles out. He massages them, rolling the tender orbs between his fingers as he expertly works his cock with his other hand.

He huffs, feeling the telltale signs of impending ejaculation. He won’t have the patience to edge tonight, not when he still has her whispers in his ear. Just when he thinks she is done and he won’t hear her again, another electrical wave flows in. Immediately he grabs onto it like a floating door outside the wreckage of the titanic.

“Lucifer,” she groans, tense yet free. He can tell she is climaxing. Then the penthouse goes silent again. He knows her prayers are done, but now he has the knowledge that she came with his name on her lips. Now he has the knowledge that she thought about him in her moment of vulnerability. She trusted him, and … perhaps that meant he could trust her again? She had been proven to be imperfect, and it had forced him to remove her from the pedestal on which he placed her. She had fallen, like him, and there was comfort in shared misery.

He yanks on his cock with aggression and speed, wholly lost in the sheer manic need of it all. He needed to cum with her voice fresh in his memory. He leans back, feeling his balls pull close to his body and the tightening coil of desire poised to snap. Then, it does. He groans as hot and bright white spurts of cum jump from the tip of his cock and land on his bare stomach. His legs straighten and lock, his hand unrelenting in its ministration.

“Ahh,” he hisses as cum drips down his chest and pools around the edge of his groin, soaking into the fabric of his favorite pair of sleeping trousers. It was a mess to clean up, but the idea of her begging him made it worth the extra energy.

He huffs, finally letting go of his cock. It bounces in relief, still pulsing to the rhythm of his heartbeat. He pants before looking around to find something to clean himself up with. When he finds nothing, he turns back to the mess he made and sighs. He got too carried away, too caught up in the moment, and now look at him. Reluctantly he slips himself back into his pants, causing the cooling liquid to slide further down into the space between his legs.

He slowly stands and feels it drip down the inside of his thigh. He messed himself for her, but he will gladly do it again if she begs him.

--

Chloe’s cup of coffee is already half empty and tepid by the time she looks up to check the clock. He’s late again. It was already hard enough to concentrate with the constant rustling of papers and random phones ringing in the bull pen's open floor plan. Now she had to hope the Lieutenant didn’t come by and ask her where the hell her partner was. She sighs and reaches out for her coffee. As soon as the cup moves to her lips, a very well put together Lucifer gracefully walks around the front of her desk and sits in his normal spot beside her.

“Great, you decided to join me,” she says, setting the cup down and already annoyed.

He hums to himself. “Anytime Darling,” he says.

She hands him a file on her desk, not that he would read it but who knows? “Martin Johnson. He has priors for both breaking and entering and petty theft.”

Lucifer takes the file and briefly looks at the photo before setting it down on the desk. “So, you think this Martin fellow is our suspect?”

Chloe rolls her eyes and turns back to her computer. Of course, he didn’t read it. She supposes you can’t teach the devil new tricks. “No, but he was picked up robbing the next-door neighbor’s house the night in question. Maybe he saw something.”

“Ah,” Lucifer says.

She nods and turns back to her computer. She starts typing before her eyes curiously flip to where Lucifer is sitting to find him staring at her with a giddy smirk on his face.

“Let me just finish this email, and we can go,” she says, turning her eyes back to the screen.

“By all means, take your time, Detective. Stretch it out,” he coos.

She raises her lip in mock disgust at his obvious innuendo. After she finishes her email, she begins to close down her station when she feels his eyes on her. She turns to see him staring at her with a small smirk still on his face.

She freezes and looks at him for a moment. It wasn’t abnormal for him to be happy. Truth be told, she liked to see him happy. With everything that had happened since she returned from Rome, it felt nice for things to be back to somewhat normal. But this smile wasn’t just a happy smile, it is a smug grin. As if he knows something that she doesn’t. She narrows her eyes. “What are we smiling about?”

He chuckles to himself and shakes his head, “Nothing to be concerned about. I’m sure we all get caught up in the moment.”

“What?”

He slides the single button on his jacket into its hole as he stands.

“Shall we?” he asks, holding his hand out to usher her towards the steps.

She pulls her jacket off the back of her chair. “You don’t even know where we are going because, yet again, you didn’t read the file.”

“Oh, come now, Detective? Why would I do a silly thing like that when you are so good at handling the small details?” he asks. He grabs her jacket and gently pulls it from her arms. She watches him, confused for a moment until he holds it open so she can slide her arms inside. She narrows her eyes at him before turning and slipping her arms in. He assists her when it is halfway on by pulling the jacket over her shoulders.

“Nice try, but flattery will only get you so far,” she huffs.

“Oh? Do tell, Detective. How far will it get me?” he grins.

She rolls her eyes and pulls her hair out of her jacket, “We’re trying to solve a murder here, remember? It’s too early for your … you, okay?”

He chuckles warmly, “Oh? Too early? Perhaps you’d like to have me later?” he asks.

She pauses, and a red hue pulls up from beneath the skin of her cheeks. Even she can’t keep pretending that his smooth words don’t affect her. “What?” she asks, her voice visibly cracking. She clears her throat and huffs, “Lucifer …just … let’s go.” She grabs the file off her desk and quickly walks to the steps leading out of the bullpen

He grins and follows her like a lost puppy. It only takes a few hours for the novelty of his knowing to wear off. They easily fall back into their normal conversations, the kind they had before Rome, and even before Cain. It is calm and comfortable, familiar.

Chapter Text

--

The elevator doors open and Chloe pauses, her thought process halted by how empty the penthouse seems. The lights are off, save for the dim amber glow of the light above the bar, and things are quiet, tranquil. She cautiously steps out of the elevator and is immediately hit with the smell of warm vanilla with just a hint of mint. She looks around, searching for any trace of Lucifer beyond just his scent.

“Uhh, Hello?” she asks, already annoyed by the fact that he knew she was coming over and yet, everything is dark. “Uh, Lucifer?”

“Be out in a moment, just getting ready,” she hears from somewhere in the penthouse.

She looks around, trying to source where that voice is coming from. It feels both next to her and in another room. “Uh, okay,” she says, her eyes cast to the light above the sofa nearby. She imagines him sitting there in his silk pajamas and reading. “Did you do what I asked you to do and call Carver about the players club?” She steps further into the living room, trying to catch a glance of her partner. It was hard holding a conversation with a ghost.

“Make yourself a drink, Detective.”

She shakes her head, already knowing where this is going. “No,” she says, raising her hand and putting her foot down, “No. No more drinks. No more-” she says before pausing, somehow understanding this moment for what it is. It feels familiar, and for a brief second, she is very aware that she is dreaming. She turns towards where he might be standing, expecting him to be there, and comes face to face with a nude Lucifer. Her eyes drop down to his cock, long and thick, before her gaze rolls up to his eyes.

He stares at her with a knowing grin. “I thought turnabout’s fair play,” he says.

It takes no provocation from him to slip off her shirt and toss it aside. It is followed by a flurry of arms and limbs before suddenly, she finds herself laying down nude on his leather sofa, his body climbing between her legs. It seems too fast, and she can’t remember taking off her pants, but who is she to question this? “Please,” she begs, “I want you.”

“and I, you,” he coos, his eyes burning with infernal flame. He lines himself up against her needy entrance, the head of his cock teasing her by merely sliding through her wet folds.

She ruts impatiently beneath him. “Please,” she begs.

He leans in, sliding his cock slowly into her and -

A blaring siren. The dream bubble visibly pops above her head as Chloe awakes confused, disoriented, and exceptionally horny. She turns her eyes to the alarm clock on her dresser and slaps it off before sluggishly turning over onto her back. Outside, the gentle sound of steady rain is offset by cars honking in the distance. The sun has hardly crested over the horizon, but the city of Los Angeles is already wide awake. She blinks her eyes, pushing away the fog of sleep.

She groans. Her dream was just getting to the best part and then nothing. She notes the heat between her legs and reaches down to sneak a hand beneath the fabric of her panties. She hums on contact, her fingers sliding between the wet and swollen lips of her pussy. The ache in her body was familiar and constant, which only meant she wouldn’t have to work hard for her orgasm. She could forgo the vibrator this time and use her hands.

“Ohhhh,” she whines, her eyes closing as she slips back into that fantasy, back into him laying between her legs in his penthouse. She can still smell the sweetness of his cologne and feel the heavy weight of his body on hers. “You make me so wet,” she whispers, her fingers sliding faster over her engorged clit.

It was Dan’s weekend, and without the risk of waking a child, she is vocal. She openly moans and gasps, each glide of her fingers making her body squirm. She begins to hear the familiar squish of her wetness before tilting her hips and setting her feet flat on the mattress. With her knees folded, it is the perfect angle for what comes next. She licks her lips as she slides two fingers into herself. She curves them as they enter, allowing them to hit that soft spongy spot inside of her. She moans loudly, a hand coming up to rub across the hardened nipple beneath her thin pajama top.

“Lucifer,” she huffs.

She imagines them inside the dark privacy of his penthouse. There, beneath the gentle hum of the freezer behind the bar and the tawny light of the nearby lamp, he takes her. He fills her to the brim until her body overflows, until she weeps with want. She imagines clawing his recently smooth back, and unlike that night when he told her no, he tells her yes beneath the bittersweet pain of pleasure. She digs her nails into his skin and marks him, claiming him as her own.

Beneath the covers of her bed, her body quickly warms up. She pulls her fingers out of her pussy and tosses off her comforters. In one long movement, she sticks her thumbs beneath the band of her pajamas and pulls off both her pants and her underwear. She tosses them aside, leaving her bottom half fully nude. Then, she folds her legs up, her feet coming completely off the bed and her knees splayed on either side of her breasts. She sticks her hand in her mouth, tasting herself before plunging two fingers back into her waiting flesh. From this angle, with her legs wide open and in the air, she is able to push her fingers deeper. She gasps, curving her fingers quickly inside of her.

More, she thinks. It feels good, but she needs her fingers to be deeper, thicker, hotter. “Please,” she whimpers, her hips bucking against her hand. She feels an orgasm building in her core, but it isn’t enough. It wasn’t fully satisfying.

Her eyes open and turn to the closed door. She imagines it opening and a shocked Lucifer walking in. “Detective,” he would coo, pleased to find her fucking herself. Her free hand slides down to rub circles around her clit. “More,” she whines. It still not enough. Her hand moves faster, her fingers frantically curling into her body as she thinks about him climbing onto her bed. He is fully-clothed, but his heat spreads deliciously over her body. He cacoons her with his warmth, his body so close to her there is no room for distance, physical or otherwise. He leans in, whispering sinful things into her ear.

“Is your pussy ready for me?” He asks, and in return, she offers a choked out, “Yes.”

And just like that, her body snaps and her muscles clamp down on her fingers as she falls into a needed release. She cums, her eyes rolled back in her head, with the imagined heat of his breath on her neck.

“Lucifer,” she cries, her fingers sloshing inside of her body wildly as she tries to extend her orgasm. Then, she relaxes against the bed, panting. It wasn’t the best orgasm she ever had, but it definitely got the job done. As her breath stills, so does she. She is on the precipice of falling asleep when something brings her back, and she snorts herself awake. Maybe it was her brain, reminding her she still had a job to do, but it could also be her body wanting more. She turns to the clock before sighing and sitting up. She didn’t have time for another one, but she had to admit that it was a good way to start the morning.

Dressed only in a pair of silken pajama pants, Lucifer leans up against the bathroom counter and lines up his beard with a small electric razor. Music blasts over the speaker system, slow and rhythmic.

♫ “The vision of your love-loveliness…” ♫

He hums along with the song, being careful to not slip and cut more off the line of his jaw than he should.

♫ “I hope and I pray that someday…” ♫

He cuts the buzzer off and blows out the short clippings of hair before tapping the shaver on the edge of the sink. Satisfied, he turns his eyes to the damp curls on his head. He reaches a hand up, slicking the long black curls down. They stay temporarily before they slowly rise from their flattened position and fall forward onto his forehead again. He reaches for a small jar of hair pomade.

♫ “I’ll be the vision of your hap-happiness,” ♫

His hips sway back and forth, a fluidity to them like a man who has done more than learn the tango; he invented it. With a practiced flick of his wrist, he quickly twists off the cap on the jar. He is about to stick his finger in when he freezes, narrows his eyes and leans in to sniff the container. It smells off, like fresh rain on pavement instead of the sweet warmth of French vanilla.

He is confused at first before his stare falls into understanding as a low, uninvited buzz begins to crawl up the side of his neck. The air around him pops like a live wire. He groans, completely uninterested in hearing anyone’s prayers this early in the morning. Turns out, being inundated with the most vile and grotesque wishes in your name did not do wonders for the whole “not hating yourself” thing. He steels himself and sighs. Dr. Martin would tell him to listen but not take it to heart. She would tell him to not absorb the opinions of strangers. He grunts. He didn’t give a shit what others thought of him. Well, not everyone. He takes in a deep breath and begins to slowly let whatever this prayer is in.

♫ “Oh, oh, oh-“♫

“Ohhhh,” he hears Chloe moan.

It catches him off guard, and the pomade jar slips out of his hand. It crashes onto the marbled top of the sink before rolling off the side. He reaches out to catch it, but it is too late. It rolls into the toilet and sinks to the bottom.

He stands there, completely aware that his only hair product is now full of toilet water. Then he is completely aware that, right now, Chloe is touching herself again to the thought of him.

♫ “Earth Angel, Earth angel. Please be mine.” ♫

That’s twice now, he thinks, as he turns to grab the remote by the sink. He presses a button, and the penthouse falls into silence. Without music, the penthouse feels empty. The toilet gurgles as air bubbles in the pomade rise to the surface and pop. He groans. He said nothing of her first prayers because they were harmless, but now she is starting to interfere with his daily activities.

Another buzz crawls up his body, and the hairs on his arm stand on edge. He cuts his gaze to his reflection in the mirror, observing the loose curls on his forehead and the wild look in his eyes. The prayer attaches to his spine, shaking every nerve in his body. He swallows his spit and closes his eyes to let it wash over him.

“You make me so wet.”

Lucifer bites down hard, his temples bulging as he leans on the counter and holds himself up with locked arms. He tries to fight the urge to take himself into hand. He stands up, his dick already half-erect, and leans to peer over the edge of the counter. The pomade jar is tilted on its side, and the sticky hair goo is slowly sliding further into the bottom of the toilet. If the lid were on, he could salvage it, but the lid is off. He is not putting toilet water in his hair. He will have to stop by the hair salon to pick up another jar on the way to the precinct.

Another vibration hits his body and almost bowls him over. He catches himself on the edge of the tub and steels his frame before letting his mind still. Her prayers aren’t just loud now, they are insistent.

“More,” she begs in his ear and his dick bloats to full length. It tents out from his pajama pants, proud and ready. He huffs, trying hard to fight the urge. He already had to stop by the salon before work, and if he started wanking now, he would be late. Usually it wouldn’t matter, but lately he had been trying to prove to Chloe that he could arrive on time, that she could count on him. Truth be told, now that it was just them again, he had started to feel silly about his outbursts. How he lost himself in pity and self-hatred, and allowed Eve to turn him into something he knew he didn’t want to be.

He stands up and stares down at the strong erection in his pants. “Judas!” he hisses before turning his eyes back to the mirror. Another electric wave washes over him.

“Lucifer,” she cries.

It is so very clear she is cumming and the pressure in his cock increases. It is slightly painful and begs for relief. It is a demand he cannot ignore. Immediately he hooks his fingers beneath the band of his pajama pants and pushes it off in one go. He grabs onto his cock, gliding his fingers over it as he turns and opens the shower door. If he was going to make a mess, at least this time he can do it in a place that is easy to clean.

--

Chloe, her eyelids half-closed, stands by the coffee station stirring her first cup of coffee for the morning. She breathes in the smell of hot coffee beans, and relishes in the silence of the small break area. She taps her spoon against the cup before sticking it into her mouth and licking it, her eyes closed, contented.

She is relaxed and calm this morning. Her fantasy of Lucifer had proven to be just as effective without her vibrator. She didn’t need it, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want it. Even now, her body still aches with the familiar hurt of something left unsatisfied. She should have known better. Her hand never failed to get the job done, but it always left her wanting more.

She smells the familiar scent of sandalwood before she feels the heat of a body standing oddly close to her. It smells like Lucifer but feels unfinished. She slowly opens her eyes and turns to find Lucifer leaning up against the counter next to her, a soft smile on his face.

“Good Morning, Detective,” he says, a strange brightness to his eyes.

Her eyes immediately go to the wild curls that adorn his head. She’s only ever seen them when he was manic, but judging by the soft smile on his face he seems to be in a good mood. Her eyes narrow as she slides the spoon out of her mouth and tosses it into the sink. “Lucifer,” she nods, an affirmation that he is there.

“How has your morning been? Not too slippery, I hope?” he says with a salacious grin.

She pauses, “What?” she asks, annoyed already by his shit. Then, it dawns on her.

“Oh, because it’s raining outside,” she says, turning towards the large glass windows at the top of the bullpen steps. Behind them, Los Angeles is steeped into hazy overcast and the steady trickle of soft rain fogs up the glass. She picks up her cup of coffee, “I’m actually surprised you are here. I thought you would be late.”

“Yes, and I almost was, but I suppose that is the benefit of having wings. No air traffic.”

She huffs, amused and nods, “Is that why you’ve been showing up on time lately?”

“Do you not like that I am here on time? I thought you’d love spending the morning with me,” he says, his eyebrows wiggling as if he made a joke he is proud of.

She rolls her eyes, “You do make my mornings interesting.” She turns and heads towards her desk and he follows behind her.

“I bet,” he grins.

She looks at him oddly, “Again, too early for you.” She brings the cup of coffee up to her lips and takes a sip. It is perfect.

“Speaking of having me early, I had a very interesting morning,” he says as he rushes to her chair. He pulls it out and motions for her to sit. She stops a few feet from the chair, looks at him as if there is something about him she can’t quite pinpoint, then slowly sits.

“I can tell. What’s up with the hair? Wait, don’t tell me. I’m sure you had some crazy gymnastic sex with some strange woman and-“

“Nothing of the sort, actually. But I can see why you might draw that conclusion. I dropped my hair pomade into the toilet.”

She pauses then snorts, “what?”

“Into the toilet. A nearly full jar. I had to stop by and pick up another one on the way in,” he says, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a fresh jar of pomade.

She chuckles and shakes her head. He watches her, intently pleased at how relaxed she seems.

“Sounds like you’re the one that had a slippery morning,” she says, tilting her head in amusement.

He chuckles, damn near giggles, as he opens the jar and sticks a thumb in, “That’s a good one. You’re quite funny, Detective. Has anyone ever told you that?”

She narrows her eyes and watches as he rubs the pomade in his hands before reaching up and combing his fingers through his hair. Something was off about him. He’s acting weird. Her eyes flip up to his ruffled hair. It worries her, but somewhere deep down it also makes her incredibly wet. She imagines his hair looks like that after a night of -

“Detective, I … I thought I might speak to you about something that will undoubtedly be uncomfortable,” he says.

She watches him fuss with his hair more. Even without a mirror it seems he has this down to a science. One swipe after the other, his hair moves from boundless curls to tamed and coiffed perfection. She stares at him for a moment as he fiddles with the last loose strands of hair on his head. It’s kind of sexy. Her eyes widen as she realizes she’s slipping into her fantasy again and she snaps her eyes towards the computer screen. She clears her throat, trying to tamper the heat rising between her legs.

“Oh?” she asks, “ and what is that?”

He shuts the jar and shoves it back into his pocket before pulling a tissue from a tissue box on her desk. He wipes his hands off as she watches him.

“Well, I …to begin, I’d like to point out that I am incapable of ignoring the prayers of others,“ he says.

“Wait,” she interrupts, “people pray to you?”

He hums and nods. “Angels don’t generally receive prayers. There’s so many of us that they all just get filtered through father. He has the mental capacity to handle so many thoughts and needs.”

“But you receive prayers,” she says, the question behind her words only implied.

He nods again. “If one knows who they want to contact, and they do so with intention and conviction, they can.”

She begins to chuckle and he furrows his eyebrows, not seeing what is so funny. Her laughter dies out when she sees the way he is looking at her with confusion and offense.

“Sorry, I just … I mean, come on. Praying?”

“I don’t have a choice in the matter, Detective. “

“No, I bet,” she says, amused, “It’s just, I mean … praying? What else keeps you awake? Pea soup and holy water?”

She snorts at her joke, but he doesn’t laugh.

He furrows his eyebrows, “What is that supposed to mean?”

She turns her eyes to him, sees that he isn’t laughing, and her smile falls.

“Lucifer, I’m joking,” she says, “It’s just a joke.”

“Well, I don’t find it funny, Detective. You can’t imagine the kind of things people pray to me for.”

She shakes her head, “ Lucifer, I shouldn’t have to remind you that …”

She looks around before leaning in and lowering her voice, “You’re the king of Hell. I mean, you’ve tortured people, right? What’s the big deal overhearing someone’s prayers?”

“That was not my choice, Detective. It was a job.” His eyebrows furrow, deeply hurt by the insinuation, "and neither is listening to the thoughts of misguided and unwell humans."

“Right but,” she says, shrugging, “I mean come on. We have to add levity to some-”

He scoffs and stands, buttoning the single button on his jacket.

“There is no levity in Hell, Detective,” he huffs, “or in hearing things you’d rather not. And if it is your intention to mock me, then I suppose that will be a difficult task to achieve if I am not here.”

He turns and begins to head up the steps.

“Lucifer…,” she says.

He doesn’t turn around. When he reaches the steps, his long legs stretch in an easy stride, skipping every other step.

What the Hell just happened?

She groans and plops back in her chair. She supposes things weren’t all back to normal for them.

That night, Lucifer lays tucked beneath his black satin sheets, a night mask already pulled around his eyes. The penthouse is dark and silent and - for once - he sleeps alone. He stirs, pulling the sheet over his naked shoulder and turning onto his side. He is warm and comfortable and-

The air suddenly changes and he smells the familiar scent of ozone. He grunts as the hum enters his ear before flipping himself onto his back. “Not now,” he huffs, annoyed by the intrusion. He is ready to bitch about having to listen to another prayer when he realizes the prayers these days tend to come from her. He props himself up on his elbows and pulls the sleep mask off his face.

No, it can’t be. That would be two in one day. Not saying she couldn’t do two in one day but …

Bloody hell, let’s just get this over with, he thinks. He stills his spirit and is immediately met with the breathy sounds of moaning.

Do you like this pussy?” he hears. As he thought, it’s Chloe again.

“Oh, for fucks sake,“ he hisses, his cock starting to fill with blood again. He turns over and snatches the cell phone from his nightstand before pressing a button that immediately dials her number. The electric jitter in his brain stops and his muscles relax into his bed. The phone rings twice before he hears her answer.

“Lucifer?” she answers, breathily, “wh- what is wrong? Why are you calling me this late?”

“Darling, do you always answer the phone?” he asks, perplexed.

“Huh?”

“Never mind. Listen, you’re praying to me.”

“What?” she says confused, and still breathy, “No, I didn’t.”

“It’s not so much the fact that you are praying. It’s more so the content of said prayer that has me fascinated.”

“What are you talking about? Lucifer, it’s …” there is a brief pause on the line, no doubt because she is checking her clock. “11:32 at night,” she finishes.

“Yes, and I am trying to sleep, but you can’t imagine how difficult that is with an erection.”

“What?” she asks again, this time a tinge of curiosity in her voice.

Lucifer sighs,” Detective, do you know what a prayer is?”

He hears her sigh on the phone, “Are you seriously calling me right now to give me some sort of religious sermon? Is this about our fight earlier? Can’t this wait until the morning?”

“Of course, you don’t,” he grunts when she doesn’t answer, “otherwise you wouldn’t be praying to me while touching yourself.”

The line goes dead silent.

“What?” she says flatly.

“Or would you?” he asks. He says it out loud, but it's more so aimed at himself.

“I … are you spying on me?!” she says, horrified.

“What? No, Darling, if I wanted a peep show, I have the internet and a copy of Hot Tub High School on Blu Ray.”

“Then how-“

“You directed your thoughts to me with such intent and conviction that they came through as prayers. I heard it.”

“You … you heard me. Just now?” she asks.

“And every time before that.”

“Oh my God,” she says, her voice sounding distant as if she has set the phone down.

“Wrong deity, I’m afraid,” he shouts into the phone.

He hears a shuffle as she picks the phone back up .“What do you mean, you heard me? Like …”

The line goes silent for a moment. When she speaks again, it is a low whisper as if anyone else could hear their conversation.

“my …my sounds? Or –“

“I believe the phrase was, ‘Do you like this pussy’?”

Oh. my. God!” she yells.

He cringes.

“Detective, please.”

“Lucifer I’m … I’m mortified! I … oh no,” she huffs, her voice tense enough that he can feel her embarrassment through the phone.

He chuckles, “If it is any consolation to your pride, Detective, I far prefer your prayers to any of the others I’ve received. The other prayers are decidedly less saccharine.

“I don’t know what to say I … I’m so sorry. I … oh my gosh.”

He huffs, amused at her correction, “Darling, I don’t mind if you use me as masturbation material. I just ask you stop praying to me. As delicious as your thoughts are, they are starting to be a distraction. They cost me a bottle of hair pomade this morning and now they are interfering with my beauty sleep.”

“I’m so sorry,” she says, “I …oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

He hums warmly and nods, “Well, carry on then. Just … intention and conviction, Detective. If you don’t intend for me to hear it, perhaps leave one of those out of your dirty talk?”

“Right,” she says softly.

“Now, since I have you on the phone. Out of curiosity, what toy are you using that reminds you of my co-“

The phone clicks, and he pauses.

“Hello? … Detective?” The line is silent, and he chuckles before clicking the phone off and setting it on the night table. He smiles as he turns onto his side and pulls the night mask onto his eyes

Chapter Text

---

 

Chloe needs more time. She should be going over her very mature response to being caught fantasizing about her partner, but all she can think about is the time. About how it feels as if the seconds are ticking away. They thump inside her chest with a steady rhythm and clang loudly in her ears.  He had heard her. Lucifer had heard the thoughts and words she uses to send herself over edge, to talk herself into orgasm. Gosh, she had done several things to embarrass herself in front of the devil, including getting drunk and jumping into his bed, but she would never live this down. Any second now Lucifer would be walking down those steps with his smug grin and eyes full of innuendos. She is normally annoyed when he’s late, but she finds herself hoping that he has suddenly abandoned his interest in showing up on time.

Time.

She needs more time. She nervously taps her fingers on the desk trying to think about what she will say. The idea had kept her up last night, the thought that he knew she fantasized about him and was privy to the kind of things she said while doing it. Suddenly the comment about having a ‘slippery’ morning makes sense and she buries her head in her hands. This is so embarrassing.

She wallows in her humiliation for a few seconds before sitting up straight and squaring her shoulders. She can handle this. She is an adult and he is … well, kind of an adult. Her mind is in the middle of a pep-talk when again a recognizable combination of scents traipses across her nose. She pulls a strand of hair behind her ears and clears her throat just as Lucifer sits down in the chair next to her. Cautiously, she turns to him, her mouth already forming around an apology, when he interrupts her.

Well, good morning, Detective,” he grins, salaciously, “No morning diddle this time, I take it? or have we learned our lesson?”

She huffs and closes her eyes, trying to keep the embarrassment from crawling up her neck.

He tilts his head, his tongue bumping up against the side of his cheek as he hums in amusement. His eyes roll down her body as if taking in a fine wine and he sits back. His legs cross and his body angles towards her. It is a series of small movements that he somehow combines into one smooth motion.

“I am an adult,” she says, as if reciting a mantra, “and I will not feel ashamed for-“

“Oh, no, no, no. You shouldn’t feel ashamed. You should feel relieved.”

She glares at him, waiting for the punchline.

“In fact, your self-gratification is quite natural. The only titillating part is who gets that delightful pussy of yours so wet. Your words, not mine.”

Her eyes raise and the already rosy tint to her cheeks turns bright red. “Lucifer!” she huffs, looking around. When no one is there, she turns and folds her body in half, placing her head in her hands.

“and if it weren’t abundantly clear,” he says, leaning forward, “I was referring to myself.”

“Lucifer I …” she begins, mumbling into her hands. She pauses and sits up, her face bright red.

“This is hard enough for –“

“You have no idea, Darling,” he growls.

“I- You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?” she says, annoyance pulling through her embarrassment.

“Easy? Darling, this is the most normal things have been in months! No, no. I’m going to milk this for all its worth. Among other things.”

Her eyebrows furrow and a look of horror falls over her face, “Do you …did you –“ She looks around again before getting closer. “Did you touch yourself to me praying to you?” she asks, her voice almost a whisper.

His smile widens and he leans closer to her. When he speaks his voice is low and warm. “Before, after, during.” He leans back and reaches into his jacket pocket to pull out his phone. “I have a video if you’d like to –“

“No!” she huffs, looking around, “I mean, I …Lucifer this is – this is totally inappropriate.”

He shoves the phone back into his jacket pocket. “and wildly erotic, don’t you think? You, me, finally getting caught up in the horizontal tango. Getting out all that unresolved sexual tension?”

“Lucifer, what part of-“

“and I say horizontal but I’m game for whatever angle you desire, Detective.”

She narrows her eyes. “What part of this makes you think I want to have sex with you?”

His head tilts forward and he glares at her as if the answer is so obvious that even he recognizes how deep in denial she is right now.

“No,” she says shaking her head, “No, I just …sometimes I need a little push and I…you know what? What I do in the privacy of my bedroom is-”

He continues to stare at her, a knowing grin on his face.

“-none of your business! And further more you-“

He crosses his legs, his tongue poking out of the corner of his cheek and a twinkle in his eyes.

“- shouldn’t be listening to me!”

“Detective, I told you. I have no control over listening to the prayers of others, only answering them. Which, considering the types of prayers I normally get, I’ve never seen fit to do. That is … until now.”

She narrows her eyes, “I didn’t ask you for anything.”

He grins. “Not all requests come in the form of questions, Detective.”

A scarlet tint crawls up her neck at the warmth in his voice, at the implication, and she feels a familiar tingle developing between her legs. She huffs, trying to cover her arousal with annoyance. At least that was familiar, safe. Wanting anything more from him was not safe. Lucifer had run away from her several times and she supposes – in his defense – so had she. He had become someone else to spite her and though their interactions as of late have felt back to normal, the truth is they never would be.

He was the actual devil and that was not normal. Praying to him was not normal.  Her thoughts jump immediately to their fight the day prior. She had joked about praying to him and he didn’t seem happy about it. He seemed upset at the idea that people would pray to him, yet now he seems quite pleased. It can’t just be about the content, no … there was something else. Her eyes go distant before they flip to him, empathy behind them.

“I-“ she begins, her eyes flipping down to his lips, “I uhm...” She sits back in her chair, crossing her arms. “Well either way I’m sorry. I … didn’t mean to pray to you. I can see how that might be upsetting.”

His smile falls and he shakes his head, “Upsetting? Darling what makes you think I am anything but enthralled by hearing you cum in my ears?“

She shuts her eyes, trying to will that shame away. She powers through it and continues her apology. “You say that and of course I know you ...on some level like it, but I also know on some level I hurt you. No matter what I said it’s still praying, you know? Forcing you to hear things you have no choice but to hear. My … prayers were positive but you don’t always get positive things, do you?”

His smile falters and he silently regards her for a few seconds. “No, I don’t.”

“Hearing what others think about you, how they feel about you all the time, that must be painful. It’s bad enough we can be our own worst critics but having people in your head constantly reminding you of your mistakes must be a lot. Especially when they don’t know the real you.”

She sees him pausing and rolling that thought around in his head. He slowly sits back in his chair, his entire demeanor changing. He hums to himself. “I suppose on some level it was upsetting, yes. Every time you prayed to me it was … I thought it was something else. Something bad. The type of prayers I usually get aren’t the kind one wants to hear, “he says turning to her. He gives her that look, that honest-to-devil look that has her heart melting inside.

She narrows her eyes, “that bad?” she asks.

He nods and his stare dulls. “Your prayers are the nicest ones I’ve ever gotten. Most of them are about torture and things that … well, things I don’t wish on anyone.” He turns to her, a sadness behind his eyes, “But I can’t ignore them, I have to listen to them otherwise they become a nuisance. You can’t imagine how difficult it is to sleep, or eat, or even have sex with an unanswered prayer. Even more so when you know the extent of the depravity people ask for.” He turns his eyes away, watching the movement in the bullpen, but she can tell there is a distance in his eyes.  

“I dread them, but I cannot stop them.” He is quiet for a long time, just thinking. She watches him, unsure of what to say as worry begins to brew in her chest. Worry that he would slip into that space again. Worried she would have to pull him back from the edge of self-hatred.

“I am not evil, Detective,” he says softly, and she can hear the hurt behind his words. She can hear the uncertainty in his voice. Behind the smiles and bravado, and the way things have slowly moved back to normal, there are things they can’t go back to. She can’t go back to not knowing who he is, and he can’t go back to pretending he is okay.

“I know,” she says, reaching a hand out to touch his. He turns his glance to her hand then his eyes roll to her. He stares at her for a while, as if looking into her very soul. He tilts his head.

“Do you?” he asks.

She stares at him for a moment, understanding the implication behind his question. Slowly the worry in her eyes falls and she sighs. “Do I have to remind you about … you know...” she says.

Slowly, his lips begin to curve upwards and his smile turns into a grin. She rolls her eyes.

“Honestly, love, you have nothing to be embarrassed about,” he says, leaning forward, “At least I know you’re not completely insane. You can avoid the devil’s charms but it seems in the privacy of your own home you are very willing and able to-“

“Do not. Finish that,” she says.

He chuckles and softly smiles. She shakes her head and scoots herself back towards her desk. She shakes her body, allowing the tension in her muscles to dissipate. Slowly, she begins to smile too before her eyes cut to Lucifer. He is playing on his phone.

“So uhm,” she says, “people pray to you then? How does that… how does that work? You know, for future reference.”

He turns to her and grins, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I would,” she says, not taking the bait for his obvious innuendo.

"As I told you last night, Intention and conviction,” he says, “when one aims a thought with intention and conviction, it gets through. It also helps if you have a personal connection with the intended recipient. For example, you probably could pray to Raphael, but …unless its exceptionally important it will most likely go directly to Dad.”

She shakes her head, “but I wasn’t trying to contact you.”

He grins. “Perhaps your intention was not to contact me, but your intention was to have my attention in … other ways.”

She blushes and looks around, hoping no one can hear their conversation.

He watches her for a moment before sucking in air between his teeth, gathering courage. “You know, if - if you wanted my … attention, you could have it. Always,” he says nervously.

She scoffs, “At least you hitting on me hasn’t changed,” she says.

He chuckles, his shoulders relaxing.

“So, if I … thought about you, about communicating with you with intention. You could hear it?”

He nods, “And conviction. Go on, give it a whirl.”

She furrows her eyebrows, “Really? I, no, you clearly don’t like being prayed to.”

“Yes, but your prayers are an exception. Always.”

She stares at him for a moment before looking around to make sure no one is watching them. Then, she clasps her hands together in her lap and lowers her head. The smell of copy paper and coffee is replaced by the unmistakable scent of rain. Seconds later, he feels that strange jitter again.

Can you hear me?” he hears.

He hums, his eyes closing in reverence. “I will never grow tired of hearing your voice in my head, Detective."

They both open their eyes and turn to each other. There is curiosity behind hers and a strange twinkle behind his.

“Though,” he continues, “ that whole thing about needing to close your eyes or clasp your hands is merely performative. It helps with the intention part but considering you seem to have that mastered, I imagine it will be unnecessary.”

She nods. That’s good to know.

“Though I won’t complain if you want to get on your knees,” he says, his eyebrows bouncing with innuendo.

She groans, despite the small smile forming on the corners of her mouth, “You’re incorrigible.”

“Darling, I’m just ecstatic to know you think of me filling that gorgeous cu-“

“Hey,” Dan says tapping Chloe’s desk with a file. She jumps, her cheeks becoming bright red. “Emergency briefing,” Dan says, nodding over to the conference room where officers start to file in.

Chloe clears her throat and rubs her neck, “Yes, be – be right there.” Moments later, Chloe and Lucifer enter a giant conference room. It is packed to the brim with officers and only one seat is left at a table in the back. Lucifer ushers Chloe to sit and uses his charms to gain the seat next to her. Dan and Ella stand behind them, leaning against the back wall.

“How’d you get roped in?” Dan asks Ella with a smile. At the front of the room, an officer approaches a podium.

“Evidence,” she replies.

He nods and crosses his arms, “Ah.”

A small microphone at the podium squeals. “Alright, let’s make this quick. I’m Detective Moore and this is my partner Detective Hills.” He points to a man standing by the lights. Detective Hills flips a switch and drops the room into relative darkness as a slide show pulls up on the blank white wall behind the podium.  “At precisely 8:55am, we got a call from the hospital about a body that showed up on their doorstep less than 30 minutes ago.”

Chloe and Lucifer both stare out, watching, but neither of them are paying attention. Lucifer isn’t paying attention because, well, he never does. Instead he twists the onyx ring on his fingers, his leg bouncing with impatience. He wants to get back to Chloe’s desk so he can finish his … prodding. It wasn’t just a momentary lapse in judgement on her part. She had admitted it in her embarrassment, that she used the thought of him, of his body, to orgasm. That felt nice. It felt …it felt like before Cain, when they were so close to starting something that he could taste it.

Chloe tries to concentrate, but as the seconds pass it’s clear she can’t. Her eyes flip to find him fidgeting with his ring and bouncing his leg. He only did that when his mind was preoccupied with something … other.

She turns to face the front of the room as the playing slideshow flips to a new image. Maybe this was her chance? To say the things she is too afraid to say out loud. To think the things that her heart won’t let her vocalize.  The truth is out there in all manners. She knows who he is and he knows now that she thinks of him in her most intimate moments. It is only a matter of time before she shows up to his penthouse and he fucks her on top of his silk sheets.

She swallows her spit. Now or never. She shifts in her seat, turning her head to him momentarily. “Lucifer,” she thinks,” can you hear me?”

He continues to fiddle with his ring, staring forward.

She tenses her jaw and sits up straight. Right, Intention and conviction. “Im sorry,” she thinks.

 

Immediately his leg goes dead still, and he stops twisting his ring. Her eyes move to the onyx gem on his fingers. If he hears her, he doesn’t say anything, but she can tell by how motionless he is, something has his attention.

“For everything,” she thinks. There is silence between them. “For running away, for trying to poison you.”

 

He lifts his head, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“I mean, I think about you all the time. Not just, you know … sexually.” Her heart thumps in her chest, knowing he can hear her and that she is admitting to him things she thought she never would. A confession. How appropriate for the method of communication.

His eyes flip back down to his ring, then slightly to the side, catching a glance of her jeans covered knee.

“I think about what could have been if I hadnt been so stupid to – if I wasnt such a terrified idiot and listened to Father Kinley.” She stares forward, watching the detective at the front of the room speak but not hearing a damn thing. “I think about how much time I wasted by running away instead of just … talking to you,” she thinks. “Sometimes I wonder what it might be like, what we might be like, if I didnt freak out.”

He tilts his head and sighs loudly.

 

“Do you think about that too?”

 “Yes,” he says, an air of longing beneath his voice.

“I’m sorry, did you say something Mr. Morningstar?” Detective Moore says.

The whole room turns to Lucifer and he pauses. “Yes, but I was responding to something else entirely.” He waves them to continue.

The detective glared at Lucifer for a moment before turning back to the board. “In our second case, we saw-.” Detective Moore’s voice fades out as Lucifer pays attention to that buzz coming in again.

“Sorry”, he hears. He nods his head to indicate he’s heard her.

She glances back to his ring before she stares at the folded hands in her lap, fiddling nervously with her fingers. “Sometimes I wonder what it might be like to wake up next to you.“

His head falls back slightly and he closes his eyes as if he’s heard the sweetest thing. Slowly, he turns his head towards her.

She doesn’t look at him, knowing if she does she will lose the courage. Instead, she closes her eyes. “I think about you not because I want to have sex with you. I mean, I do, clearly. but …I miss you. I miss what we had, even If it was frustrating and stupid.”

She can still feel him staring, his attention solely on her. It is an intensity she can’t ignore. Slowly she opens her eyes and turns to him, the beginnings of tears already glistening along her waterline. “I miss you. I miss … us.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.

“Am I crazy to think that?” she asks, the look behind her eyes so vulnerable that it feels reliable, familiar, safe.

He shakes his head “No,” a softness behind his eyes that she remembers. It feels like when he gave her the necklace for her birthday or told her he wasn’t good enough for her on the beach.

“Do you think about us too?“

 

A small smile appears on his face and she rolls her eyes, already knowing what he is thinking.

“Like, outside of sex obviously,” she thinks. Slowly his smile falls as he stares at her. Then, he nods.

She smiles, her eyes turning down to his hand. She reaches out and sets her hand on top of his. He turns his hand so his palm is face up and she slides her fingers between his. They stare at one another, so much unsaid behind their eyes.

“Eyes ahead lovebirds,” they hear. Their bubble bursts and they turn to see Ella grinning behind them, her eyes cast down to their hands. Quickly they let go, just now realizing they are in a room full of coworkers. Chloe sits back and crosses her arms, her eyes scanning the room to make sure no one saw that. Lucifer fixes his jacket and goes back to twirling his ring.

Ella leans back against the wall as Dan groans and reaches into his back pocket. He pulls out his wallet, fishes out all the money inside of it and slaps it into Ella’s waiting hand.

“Unbelievable,” he grunts. Ella smiles and takes the money before sliding it into her bra.

Lucifer and Chloe stare ahead, both watching the briefing, but neither paying attention. He continues to twirl the ring on his fingers, a small and satisfied smile forming on his face. Chloe turns her eyes to him before her glance rolls down his frame. A small and devious grin forms on her face and she turns back towards the front of the room. She pulls a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I think about you everyday and every night but I guess you knew that part.”

Immediately he stops twirling his ring again, his body still. She has his attention and a strange power over him. One he can’t ignore. She intends to take advantage of that. “You wanted to know what I used, right?“ she thinks.

His eyes narrow and he slowly turns his head towards her, intrigue on his face.  She keeps her eyes forward, as if unaware she has his undivided attention. “Its a rabbit vibrator. You know, the one with the little bunny ears.”

A smile curves onto his face and his eyes roll down her body. He’s very familiar with that particular toy.

“I also have a dildo, one of those with the suction cup on it? Sometimes I stick it to the wall of my shower and pretend it’s you.”

His jaw tenses, holding in a pleased growl.

“It feels good, but I think you would feel so much better.”

He lets go of an impatient sigh. Lucifer shifts in his chair, draping one leg over the other and tugging on his jacket. Chloe notices it and smiles to herself.

“Am I making you hard?”

He grunts.

“If thats a yes, twirl your ring for me.”

He pauses and for a moment he doesn’t move. Then he casually lifts his hand up and twirls his ring. She starts to feel a familiar warmth and tingle develop between her legs. This isn’t just affecting him anymore. “Is it because you are imagining me using my toys?”

He twirls his ring.

She reaches a hand up and rubs her neck before clearing her throat. He turns his eyes to her, and they share a glance. His eyes drop down to her lips then back to her eyes.

“Do you want to kiss me?”

He twirls his ring. She turns and stares forward, keeping her eyes off him. He watches her for a few more moments before turning to look ahead of him.

“Do you want to fuck me?”

He tenses his jaw and shifts in his seat before leaning over and whispering into her ear. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Detective.”

She turns to him, an innocent smile on her face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.  I haven’t said anything,” she whispers in response.

He sits back with a pleased and amused grin on his face. “You haven’t, no.”

“Alright,” Detective Moore says, “Remember to keep me posted on anything you come across that might be related to these cases. Lopez is going to be working on going back over evidence all day, so if you find anything give it to her.”

The lights come back on and officers begin to filter out the room. Chloe and Lucifer walk together back to her desk. He looks around as they sit before turning to her. She sits at her desk normally, like she hadn’t just been egging him on. She casually turns her glance to him, as if she is unaware he is looking at her. “Yes?” she says sweetly.

“You’ve made a grave error, Detective.”

“Oh?” she says, playing coy, “What did I do?”

He stares at her, enjoying this particular version of their usual cat and mouse game. “Now that I know you want me, you expect me to let you go home alone?” He leans in, his eyes dropping to her lips. ”After I have my way with you, you won’t be able to even look at another man without feeling pity for their lovers.”

She scoffs, “Yeah, okay,” she says, “You’re experienced, sure, but let’s not-“ She turns to him to see him staring at her with an intensity she’s only ever seen in the moments when he was being completely serious. It was rare enough to recognize.

He isn’t laughing. This isn’t a joke.

Her smile falls and they sit locked in a deep stare. Suddenly, she stands and with zero words spoken between them, she walks across the bullpen to the evidence room. She enters and the door shuts behind her.

He sits back, unsure if that was a sign or- Then that electrical jitter again, buzzing through his ears.

“Now,” he hears in a demanding tone. He quickly pushes himself off the chair and hurriedly walks towards the evidence room. He looks around before he enters and shuts the door behind him. Inside the evidence room, there are filing cabinets pushed up against all corners of the room. In its center, a shelf effectively divides it into two small aisles. “Detective?” Lucifer asks, not seeing her on the first aisle. When he passes the shelf into the second aisle, he sees her leaning up against a small table with a stack of papers and a lamp. She stands there, her hand shoved down the front of her pants, and her eyelids low and wanting.

“Detective,” he coos, gliding towards her with a grace that would make a panther jealous, “I can fly us to the penthouse if you wish.”

 “You want me to change my mind?” she asks.

He grunts and moves over towards her, his eyes flipping down to her hand. Her pants are unbuttoned and her hand is stuffed deep into her blue cotton panties. He can make out her knuckles hitting the fabric as she rubs her clit.

“Whatever you desire.” His wide palm wraps around the side of her face before bringing her in for a kiss. It is passionate and bold in its exploration. She willingly opens her mouth to let his tongue slide in as she moans into his lips. He drops his hand down her neck, then down the side of her body until both of his hands are at the band of her jeans.

“Let’s take these off, shall we?” he coos.

He begins to pull her pants down and she stops him.

“Wait,” she huffs, turning her eyes to the door that she can barely see through the stack of boxes on the shelf in front of them. “Someone might come in and I can’t be in here with my pants off.”

“Then we should go to my penthouse,” he says warmly, tracing kisses down the side of her neck, “so I can really take my time.” He slides his hands into the front of her pants, displacing her own hand. She leans against the table behind her as he runs a finger through her wetness.

She moans lightly.  “I don’t want to go to your penthouse,” she says, “I want you right here. Right now.”

“I hoped you might say that. Just thought I’d offer,” he grins, “I’m much more excited about having you here.”

“Right, because you like to break rules.” She moans and tosses her head back as his fingers make their way to her entrance. His wrists angles and he pushes a finger into her. Her head falls backwards, and he takes the opportunity to lean forward and nibbles on her throat.

“Feels like you like to be a rule-breaker too, Darling, but you know that isn’t why,” he smiles.

“Then why?” she asks, her voice breathy as she tries not to fall apart in his hands. He is very skilled with his fingers.

“You know why,” he repeats, his voice low and gravely.

He reaches a hand forward and holds himself steady against the table before sliding his fingers out of her and sticking them into his mouth. She watches him as he sucks on his fingers, his tongue rolling between each digit like an animal licking ice cream off the floor. His tongue is wide and sloppy. 

“Pierce?” she huffs, watching the way his tongue moves across his fingers.

He pulls his fingers out of his mouth before reaching between her legs and sliding a single finger into her again. When she doesn’t protest, he slides in a second finger.

A choked moan leaves her mouth and he muffles it with his own. They kiss passionately and quickly. Hunger bleeds from both of them as if this is it, the feast they’ve been waiting for. He pulls away from her lips and watches her for a few seconds before she leans her forehead forward, pressing her head against his chest as he plunges his fingers inside of her.

He pulls his body away from her, “Let me see you,” he huffs.

Her eyes, already half-closed, turn to him and he notes how the colored rings of her irises have been replaced by dark pupils, wide and wanting.

“I want to see you,” he says. He curves his fingers and she stumbles, catching herself on the table. A hand comes out as a reflex and grabs onto his shirt as her head tilts back, lost in a wave of pleasure.

“Does that feel good?” he asks, his breath hitting the side of her neck as he leans in and nibbles on her ear.

“Lucifer,” she moans. He groans and pulls his body closer, “The prayers do you no justice, Detective.”

Which each new flick of his fingers, she lets out a short gasp. He backs away from her and tugs her pants lower, just enough that she can spread her legs and allow him to slip his hand further between them. His long piano player fingers slide deeper into her and her head tilts back, her hands white-knuckling against the table. Lucifer crouches in front of her, his feet flat on the ground, but his knees bent and tight to her body. Here he is eye level with her pussy. She tilts her head down to him as he leans forward and sticks his tongue out. He slides it between her lips and immediately seeks out her clit.

She pulls air into her lungs when he finds it, a hand coming immediately to wrap around his head.

“Yes,” she cries, beginning to rotate her hips. He hums into her taste, his fingers sliding inside of her in long slow strokes.

He feels her pussy pulse around his fingers and hums.

“More,” she whines, her hand wrapped around his head and her legs spread as far as the jeans around her knees will let them go. He hums, recognizing her words from his prayer. He begins to crook his fingers more forcefully and she responds as she should, with gasps and moans. She pulls a hand up to her mouth and turns her eyes down the aisle towards the door. She can feel Lucifer’s tongue working her clit and his fingers curving heavily in her. Her eyes shut tightly and her head tilts back. She’s so fucking close.

“Right there,” she whines, her hips twisting wildly. He reaches a hand out to the table, steadying himself against her movements.

“Fuck,” she cries, “right there.” She shuts her eyes, her grip on his hair tightening as she prepares to reach that point of no return.

Suddenly the door opens and her eyes pop open before she hurriedly pushes Lucifer away. He catches himself and stands as she leans down and slides her pants and underwear up in one go. They turn their heads to the end of the aisle just in time to see Ella, headphones attached to her head, approach the file cabinet at the end of the aisle. She doesn’t even notice them as she stares at a clipboard in her hands, her back turned towards them. Chloe turns her eyes to Lucifer, her neck red with arousal and her eyes wide with fear. Ella sets a clipboard on top of the cabinet before opening it and sorting through the files. Lucifer can hear the blaring sound of rock music seeping out from her headphones. He turns back to Chloe and pulls her close. She pushes him away, her eyes staying on Ella.

“She can’t hear us Darling,” he whispers.

When Ella finds the file she needs, she pulls it out with great fanfare and slides the cabinet closed. She grabs her clipboard and turns to leave, her feet bouncing to the music as she goes. When the door closes behind her, Chloe lets go a relieved sigh.

“That was close.”

“Yes, you were,” he grins, moving towards her. His large hands fall on either side of her hip and he pulls her in.

“Lucifer, we almost just got caught!”

“But we didn’t, did we, Detective?” he asks, leaning in to kiss her. She accepts his kisses after a few insistent nips at her lip. He walks forward as she wraps her arms around him and pushes her up against the table, his body pressed against hers so she can feel his erection. He rubs against her as they begin to pant into one another’s mouths. He feels a jitter crawling up his spine and mistakes it for her hands, but the stronger it gets the more he recognizes it for what it is.

“You should probably fuck me now.”

 “Mm, with great pleasure,” he grunts, his hands immediately going to the buttons on her pants. He unzips her before shimmying her jeans over her ass. Then, grabbing her hips, he spins her around before placing a hand on her back and pushing her to the table, effectively bending her over. She lets go a breathy laugh as she feels a hand come up between her legs, running through her wetness.

“You’re so wet,” he coos.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” she says.

“Ah ah,” he says, chastising her, “the only thing I want to hear come from that pretty mouth of yours is my name. If you want to speak Detective, pray to me.”

He crouches behind her again and plants his face between her legs, his lips and tongue sucking and licking every bit of flesh it can find. She hums in response, pushing herself into his face. He licks her, his tongue doing deep dives into her body before snaking its way up to her clit. She drops her head forward, her eyes closed and focused on his touch. After a few moments of this, he stands and unbuckles his belt. She hears the metal of his buckle and turns to see him staring at her, like a lion stares at prey. She turns her eyes down to his hand as he unzips his pants to reveal naked flesh. Of course he isn’t wearing underwear. Seconds later he pulls out a cock that gives her pause. He is big, like, really big.

“Uhh, Lucifer I-“

“Do you want to be punished, Detective?”

“What?” she asks, her eyebrows furrowed.

“I told you the only thing I want to leave your lips is my name.”

She stares at him for a moment before her eyes drop down to his cock. He strokes it before yanking the crotch of his pants down to let his testicles hang freely. She turns her eyes back to him. “You’re big,” she thinks, the inkling of worry behind her words.

He grins widely before setting a hand on her back and pressing her down against the table.

“Don’t be nervous, Darling. I assure you it will fit.”

She hums as she feels the head of his cock run through the folds of her pussy. He wets himself with her juices. “Look at me,” he says.

 She turns her head back to him.

“I’m going to make a believer out of you yet,” he says as he slowly pushes into her. She gasps and holds onto the table. He watches her face contort as he gradually eases himself into her. She moans and squeaks and squeals as he stretches her until eventually her body accepts him. He pushes himself deep into her and she moans, steadying herself on the table. This is the most full she’s felt in a long time.

He sets his hands on either side of her hips before pulling her back onto him and slowly pulling out.

“Yes, fuck me.”

“I am, Darling,” he chuckles as he slowly sinks into her again. He takes his time, his strokes long and slow.

“Just like that,” he hears before she lets out a soft whine. He pumps into her, his hips rotating smoothly like a well-oiled piston. His experience Is not lost on her and it's very clear he knows exactly what he is doing. She lowers her head again, sinking it between her shoulders, and closes her eyes. He fills her in long, slow strokes and eventually, she begins to push back onto him.

“Am I better than your toy?” he asks.

“Yes,” she prays as a whine leaves her throat.

“How? How does my cock feel?”

“Youre so much bigger and thicker,” she prays, a choked out moan escaping her lips.

“And?” He asks.

“And warmer. Fuck youre so warm,” she prays, followed shortly by the whisper of his name.

“I believe that is the benefit of being with an actual body, Detective. And of course, the added benefit that I can give as much as I get,” he says, leaning over her and pinning her body to the desk. 

“Now if only you’ll tell me all the dirty things you tell that toy of yours,” he hums into her ear.

The desk groans beneath their added weight and he snaps his hips forward, plunging into her with a force that shakes the table. The legs of the table creak as she gasps, balling a sheet of paper beneath her fist.

“Oh, did you like that?” he coos, grinding his body against hers and rotating his hips so his cock touches every part of her. She lets go of the paper and tosses it aside to prevent herself from ripping it. She lifts herself off the desk slightly and he stands up straight, holding onto her hips. She slides a stack of papers from beneath her, allowing her to lay flatter on the table.

His hips then snap forward again, this time it is so hard it shakes the table beneath them. She slaps a hand on her mouth to subdue her cry. He speeds up his thrusts and the sound of their bodies crashing together is only lessened by the fabric of his slacks. Instead of the loud clap, it’s a soft thud. It joins the sounds of her stifled moans and the creaking desk beneath them. He looks down, now able to see everything. There is no mystery between them anymore, only pleasure.

“Ask me,” he pants, each thrust releasing a soft moan from her. She’s having a hard time staying quiet, but an even harder time holding on to the roller coaster of pleasure.

He gets no response and lightly slaps her ass. Not enough to make too much sound, but enough to get the point across. She pulls a hand up to her mouth to stifle a cry before she sticks her hand between her teeth and bites down.

“Go on, ask me the question that’s been on your mind, Detective. You know you want to.” He gets no response at first, but then the distinct scent of ozone replaces the hot and musky smell of sex.

“Do you like this pussy?”

He hums, pleased, and fucks her faster. The table creaks and squeaks beneath them.

“I love it,” he grunts, “I hope you’ll let me fuck it again sometime.”

“You make me cum and I’ll let you do anything to me,” she whines.

He pushes deep into her and again pins her up against the table before leaning over her back. “What did I say?” he pants, his breath hot against her ear. He snaps his hips forward, driving his cock into her hard. “You don’t want to be a bad girl, do you? You’re a cop, Detective. You know what happens to bad girls.”

“We’re in an evidence room and you're- you're,” she huffs, her body pushing back against him and her jacket feeling insanely hot now.  She is sweating.

“Yes, but I still want you to pray. Those sweet words need to be saved for-“

The door opens and they both freeze. Behind them, Ella enters again with her headphones on, clipboard in hand. Music bleeds loudly from beneath the ear cups and she bounces as she walks, her strut almost a dance.

Lucifer turns behind him and is able to make out her colorful shirt behind the boxes on the shelf that separate her and them. Lucifer is hit with the smell of ozone again. Then a strong jitter up his spine.

“Its Ella. Get off me.”

He moves to pull out of her when Ella sets a clipboard on one of the boxes and slides the box from the shelf. It opens up a window to view everything they are doing, nothing between her side of the room and theirs. Luckily that window is below her normal eyesight, however, and she sets the box in her hands before turning and walking out of the room. They wait for the sound of the door closing before physically slacking into each other. Chloe sighs.  “Maybe this was a bad idea,” she says moving to stand, “we should wait until later to finish.”

He sets a hand on her back and slowly pushes her to the desk. She doesn’t resist him.  “The only bad idea is you leaving this room not having came on my cock, Detective.”

“Lucifer I-“

He leans into her, his pelvis grinding against her before he begins to drive his cock into her in short, quick thrusts.

“Lucifer,” she huffs, her eyes rolling back in her head.

“I’ve waited so long to feel you fall apart, Detective. If you think a brief moment of interruption is going to keep me from feeling that pussy of yours cum on me you’re not as smart as I thought you were.”

She reaches a hand back, holding onto his hips and pulling him closer.

“Yes, just like that,” she prays.

“Do you like that?” he asks.

“Fuck me, please.”

“Anytime you want it. Any place you want it. Any hole you want it, Darling I will give you whatever you want,” he huffs.

“Shit” she groans.

He snaps his hips forward, causing the table to shake violently. She reaches out and holds onto a desk lamp, gripping it for dear life.

“Lucifer!” she gasps.

“Are you going to cum?” he asks.

“Yes,” she whines.

“Do it, Chloe,” he pants, “let me feel you.”

She tosses her head back and her mouth opens just as Lucifer leans forward, his body pressed against her and covers her mouth.

She moans into his hand, his hips snapping forward as he feels her pussy muscles pulse around him as she falls into her orgasm.  He fucks her through it, the desk banging up against the wall with each of his powerful thrusts. Lucifer makes the mistake of slipping a finger into her mouth and she bites down, hard. She cries through a powerful orgasm, one that makes her legs start to shake. Then it passes and she slacks against the table, panting. He slides his bitten finger out of her mouth.

“Remind me never to 69 with you, love,” he grunts as he shakes his hand, his hips still slowly fucking her.

She huffs, amused but still in the haze of her orgasm. She pants and he leans back before pulling his shirt up. He looks down to where they are connected to see her body has completely ruined the seat of his pants. He chuckles, it’s probably a good thing he has an extra pair in his car. He slowly fucks her as she comes down from her orgasm and, eventually, she begins to rotate her hips into his thrusts.

“Are you going to cum for me now?” He hears.

He stands completely still and watches as she rocks her hips against him, driving his cock into her.

“I could, or we could go for another round or two.”

She turns her eyes to him and he can see that is not an option, at least not now. He was already on thin ice having almost been caught twice.

“Fine,” he says reluctantly. He turns his eyes down to the action, prepared to will himself across the finish line. He watches as she backs up to him, his eyelids slowly lowering. He groans and reaches down to slap her ass again. Eventually, the sight, the sound, the smell of it all overwhelms him and he begins to feel the coil of release tensing in his stomach.

“Where do you want it?” he huffs.

“In my mouth.”

He grins and thrusts one last time before pulling out. He backs away from her just enough to give her room to turn and squat in front of him. He stands in front of her, stroking himself. He groans and pants, her mouth open and her tongue out in wait. When he takes too long she moves in and takes over for him. Her hand works diligently in tandem with her mouth and he tosses his head back.

“Chloe,” he pants.

“Give it to me.”

He moans and pulls out a hand to hold onto her head a mere second before he empties himself into her mouth. She pulls and sucks him through it, feeling his cock pulse in her hands. She continues until eventually he becomes too sensitive and pulls away from her. That is when she allows him to fall out of her mouth.

He gathers his breath as she stands, her mouth empty and a grin on her face. He is standing tall, but it would be easy to topple him at this point. They stand in silence, arousal draining from their bodies as it slowly dawns on them what they just did and how close they came to being caught. It is silent and slightly awkward, but so them. Before Eve, before Father Kinely, and before Rome, it was just them. Just them pretending that this wasn’t how things would end up. So much so that now they are here, it feels surreal.

They watch each other, both unsure of what to say. Chloe reaches down to pull up her pants and stumbles, her legs momentarily giving way beneath her. Lucifer catches her and she grabs onto his arm for stability. They both look down to see her legs visibly shaking. Lucifer grins and turns to her.

“Oh, shut up,” she says, already knowing he Is going to brag about making her legs weak.

He begins to smile, which in turn makes her smile. Then, she starts to giggle and in response he giggles. He helps her pull on her underwear and jeans, all the while both of them giggle like teenagers. His eyebrows wiggle like they share an inside joke that also doubles as one of his innuendos and he slips himself back into his pants. He leans in and kisses her as he begins tucking his shirt into his pants. It’s sweet and light, but behind it is a world of possibility. Then, once again, the door opens and they separate like oil and water. She quickly fixes her hair as he turns and quickly tucks the front of his shirt back into his pants.

Ella again enters, headphones on, and a clipboard in hand. Chloe turns to Lucifer and reaches out to fix his hair quickly as he buttons himself back up. They are still fixing each other’s clothes when Ella turns down their aisle, staring at the boxes. She sees them in her peripheral vision and turns to them, just as Lucifer is buttoning the single button on his jacket. Chloe stands next to him, her arms crossed in front of her and trying to act casual. Ella reaches up and slides the earphones off her ears.

“Hey!” she says her eyes lighting up. “What are you two lovebirds doing in here?” Her eyes turn back to the boxes as she reads the labels on the side. She pauses at one box and verifies the name on her clipboard.

“Oh uh … just … Looking for…” Chloe looks around the desk before finding a notepad of stickies that reads: DNA Evidence. “Ah!” she says grabbing the pad, “this. Here it is. We found it! It was right here.”

She turns to Lucifer and he grins. She nudges him and he speaks up.

“Yes, right. So much DNA,” he says turning to Ella. Chloe snorts and covers her mouth before shaking her head. That was not funny. Okay, it was kind of funny, but she wasn’t interested in encouraging him just yet.

“Oh! That reminds me! I got the blood splatter report back on that stabbing case. I got so excited about catching a serial killer I completely forgot.”

Ella slides the box off the shelf and pulls it close to her body, “I’ll go get it for you,” she says as she turns and heads down the aisle.

“Actually, I’ll come to you,” Chloe responds. Ella turns and heads down the small aisle before turning and leaving.

Lucifer chuckles and grabs the stickers from Chloe. “Clever, Detective,” he grins.

She slaps him playfully and sighs. He tosses the stickers back onto the desk and turns back to her. Slowly their smiles fall.

“Can we … talk about this? You know, later?” she asks, “I don’t want us to just forget that-“

“I’d love to do more than talk, Detective. You can’t imagine how impossible it will be to get the sight of me fucking you from behind out of my mind. At least a century.”

She smiles and shakes her head.

“I can’t wait to see what position you will want next,” he coos.

Her eyes do that thing, the one where it fills with doubt. “Next time?”

“Oh, you didn’t think this was it, Detective. Did you?” he asks.

She shrugs and pulls a strand of hair behind her ear, “I honestly don’t know what this is …do you?”

He nods, “I don’t quite know either but …I’m excited to explore it …and you.”

She rolls her eyes with a smile.

“Especially if you keep praying like that to me.”

Her smiles fall. “Isn’t that a little … sacrilegious?”

“Delightfully so,” he grins.

She scoffs and rolls her eyes before turning and heading down the aisle. At least she knows one thing hasn’t changed.

She turns at the end of the aisle and walks out of his line of sight. He chuckles to himself before reaching down and straightening his clothing more.

“Oh,” he hears. He looks up to see she has backtracked just enough to make out her form behind the shelf.

“Uh … send me that video,” she says. She turns and leaves before Lucifer can say anything in response.

Lucifer stands there for a moment, looking through his memory for what video she might be referencing. When he realizes which video she is talking about he grins. He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out his phone. He taps on it for a bit with one hand, while the other unbuckles his belt. The phone dings, indicating his message had been sent.

Then, he pulls himself back out of his pants and angles the camera. “and one more for good measure.”