Archive of Our Own ^beta

There’s blood on her shirt. It’s dry now, so it doesn’t stick to her skin anymore, but she can still see the stain turning brown with oxidation, can still smell the characteristic irony odor, so pungent and unfortunately so familiar.

The sight of blood doesn’t bother her. It never did, not even when she was a child. She scraped her knees falling on playgrounds far too many times, so even then she knew spilling a little blood was inevitable and, while usually painful, it could be easily fixed with a band-aid and a kiss from her dad. And then, when she was older, she’d grown all the more accustomed to blood, becoming almost completely desensitized to it. In her line of work, injuries—her own and those of other people—were a daily occurrence. Seeing blood simply couldn’t be avoided.

And yet, this time, the maroon staining the white fabric of her shirt hits very differently.

Chloe has had more than her share of brushes with death in the past. She was shot, then poisoned, and once thought she was about to be blown to smithereens by a crazy woman, but somehow always survived. Even in those instances that most people would have deemed close calls, she had a feeling things would turn out for the best, because it simply wasn’t her time yet. It couldn’t be. There was so much she still had to do, to experience, to live. But this time was different. This time something told her she might just have run out of time. 

Her instinct was right, at least in part. She did actually die, if only for a few minutes, although to her it had felt like days. 

Things are bound to be different when your boyfriend’s angel twin brother stabs you in the stomach with a magical rod made from the only remaining piece of the Tree of Life, aren’t they? That doesn’t exactly happen every day. Even thinking about it now that she had managed to survive—or rather was brought back—Chloe still can’t quite wrap her head about everything that happened mere hours ago. Knowing the man you love is the Devil, accepting that you’re constantly surrounded by literal biblical characters every day, dealing with every sort of celestial craziness is one thing, but actually experiencing death and going to heaven, only to resuscitate? Yeah, that can take time to come to terms with. 

Despite that, in the moment, as she was bleeding out, cradled in Lucifer’s arms, fully aware that life was slipping right out of her body, she strangely felt at peace. Everything had simply clicked into place. All of her guilt, those thoughts tormenting her about Dan’s death, about what she could and should have done to prevent it, simply vanished and gave way to the realization that she had no control over it. It wasn’t her fault. Dying gave her clarity like she’d never experienced before. And doing so in the arms of the man she loved was somewhat comforting, knowing that her sacrifice could help him win the war they were fighting. 

It seemed like a small price to pay, if it meant being able to rectify every single one of Michael’s wrongdoings. She was at peace with her fate. Once in Heaven, finally reunited with her dad, she couldn’t even remember why she’d once preoccupied herself with the concept of death at all. 

That was until Lucifer showed up, of course. 

As soon as she saw him, all the memories of her life on Earth came rushing back, and she remembered why they were fighting in the first place. Lucifer, her friends, Trixie—they all still needed her. Perhaps dying and leaving all the pain and suffering behind was easier, but she’d never been one to choose the easier path. She’d always fought tooth and nail for justice, for what was right, and she couldn’t give up now. She couldn’t turn her back on those who needed her. 

And so she defied death once again. 

“We’re here,” she hears Lucifer whisper gently next to her, carefully placing a hand at the small of her back to nudge her forward.

So lost in thought, Chloe hadn’t noticed the elevator come to a halt, nor its doors sliding open to reveal the dimly lit penthouse.

She blinks a few times, a little dazed, before lifting her gaze to meet Lucifer’s. When she tries to smile, it comes out strained and possibly slightly insincere. 

She’s exhausted. Completely drained. As it turns out, dying and coming back is a very tiring task. But Chloe hopes he knows that while her expression might not be able to convey it right now, there’s no other place she’d rather be tonight than here with him. 

Lucifer smiles down at her, the same weariness pulling on his facial muscles. 

He’s been through a lot as well today—and in the past few months, really. Chloe can only imagine he’s feeling as worn out as she does. Thankfully, it seems that they can now finally rest a bit. 

She’s the first to step over the threshold, closely followed by Lucifer, who hasn’t left her side a single second since the moment Michael was escorted down to Hell after the battle had ended. 

She knows why he’s so attentive, so careful around her, like she might crumble into a million tiny pieces if he only dares blink away for a moment. Chloe died, yes, and that was obviously traumatic in itself, but he was the one who had to watch it happen, who held her when she exhaled what they both thought was her last breath, who mourned her loss, even if just for a handful of minutes. Of course he’s guarded around her. She can’t hold that against him. Actually, she finds it almost endearing, in an admittedly twisted way, this protectiveness he’s showing towards her. It always has been, even when she wouldn’t admit it.

It’s part of the reason why, when he’d asked if she’d rather spend the night at her own house, Chloe had suggested sleeping at his place instead. She knows he wouldn’t have objected if she’d asked for some space, but it would have cost him a lot to leave her. Besides, with Trixie away and safe at Dan’s parents’ house, she would have been all by herself, and Chloe really doesn’t want to be alone. Especially not tonight. It would have cost her just as much.

The hand still resting on her back slips, and she catches his conflicted expression as he debates whether or not he should move away even just for a moment before he eventually decides she’ll be fine and walks towards the bar. Once there, he retrieves a bottle of Scotch and a clean tumbler, pouring two fingers of liquid inside, then pauses. His eyes find hers across the room.

“Would you like a drink?” he asks.

Chloe shakes her head. “Not really. I’d rather just head to bed. Thanks for the offer, though.”

Lucifer nods. “Of course.” 

He lifts the glass to his mouth, downing its contents in one gulp. He doesn’t savor it. This drink isn’t meant for him to enjoy the taste of the liquor; it only serves to take the edge off, although—Chloe knows—it would take a whole bottle and then some for him to feel the effects of the alcohol even slightly. But the ritual is comforting to him. It’s a simple, daily gesture that gives him some peace of mind during a time that feels anything but peaceful. 

“I need to sort this… situation first,” Chloe mutters as he’s pouring himself another glass, gesturing vaguely towards her midriff, at the very visible dried blood stain on her torn clothes.

He pauses mid-swallow, eyes widening slightly. The very real reminder of her death for them both to see seems to startle him, as if he was trying his mightiest not to look at it until she pointed it out. 

He finally swallows so that he’s able to say, “Right. Yes.” The words come out choked. He clears his throat, going for a more light-hearted tone when he speaks again. “Should I draw you a hot bath? With Epsom salts and some essential oils, perhaps?” The smile he offers is sweet, sincere, but lopsided, only one corner of his mouth curved upward in a show of nerves he’s unable to conceal.

Once again, Chloe shakes her head. “A quick shower is all I can handle right now,” she admits softly.

As lovely as a bath sounds at the moment, she’s far too exhausted to lay there in the cozy warmth of the water without risking falling asleep in the tub. She’d probably skip the shower altogether and jump straight into bed if she wasn’t currently covered in her own blood and dirt and surely reeking of sweat and other bodily fluids. There most likely is some of Michael’s blood on her too,  on her hands and clothes from when she nearly beat him to a pulp. She almost killed him before Lucifer stopped her. 

It had felt quite cathartic in the moment, giving Michael a taste of his own medicine after everything he’d put them—and her especially—through, but, now that the adrenaline has ultimately worn off, she can feel the downside of their little show-down. Her whole body aches and throbs, her hands especially. Her knuckles are swollen, cracked, and tomorrow she most likely won’t be able to make a fist without flinching in pain. But God, did it feel good to wipe that smug smirk off his face. Given the chance, she’d do it again.

“I’ll get the water running for you,” Lucifer says, leaving the tumbler on the counter. 

“Thanks.”

She could argue that there’s no need for him to go out of his way to turn the shower on. She knows where the bathroom is, and she could probably figure out how to make his extra-fancy shower work on her own if she really tried, but she’s so tired, and he obviously needs to do this—anything—for her. For all she knows, Lucifer would probably carry her to the bathroom in his arms and help her undress if she let him. She won’t, of course, so getting the shower started will have to suffice.

He rounds the bar, heading straight for his bedroom and disappearing behind the corner where his walk-in closet and bathroom are. Chloe follows behind him, but stops just outside the door as he turns the water on, simply watching him going through the motions. 

Lucifer retrieves a few clean towels, setting them on the towel rack next to the shower. He then moves to open a drawer under the sink, from where he extracts a brand new toothbrush, still in its package, and leaves it right next to the toothbrush holder along with some toothpaste, also perfectly intact and unopened. Once he’s done, he goes back to check on the shower, placing his hand under the downpour to check the temperature. 

“All set,” he declares when he seems content with his work, quickly drying his hand on a towel that has the initials L.M. sewn onto the fabric in cursive letters. “I’ll leave you to it.”

He walks past her, stopping for a moment when his left arm brushes against hers, his gaze landing on her. His brows are stuck in a permanent frown, and Chloe feels the sudden urge to wipe her hand across his forehead to see if she’s able to erase the worry from his face. Her fingers twitch, but she keeps her arm anchored to the side of her body.

“I apologize,” he murmurs so softly she can barely hear his voice above the sound of the water running.

“For what?”

“I…” He sighs. “I don’t have any… uh… feminine body wash and shampoo. I know you like yours quite fruity, but I don’t—”

She can’t contain a smile at the ridiculous apology. “It’s fine, Lucifer. I’m sure I’ll manage,” she reassures him through a soft chuckle.

Finally, his expression relaxes just a fraction. His features soften, and when he returns the smile it seems to reach his eyes, warming the dark brown of his irises. “Alright then. I’ll be waiting for you in the bedroom when you’re done,” he says. 

“Okay.”

While the discussion is evidently over, neither seems to make an attempt to move away, remaining rooted to the spot, staring into each other’s eyes. For a fraction of a second, Chloe can clearly see a thought flash across Lucifer’s face, but it’s gone in the blink of an eye, just as quickly as it appeared. Something tells her the same thought is mirrored in her expression, or is at least very close to the idea currently forming in her mind.

She wants to kiss him. Just a quick peck on the lips, nothing else, to simply feel the softness of his mouth on hers and be reminded of how sweet and right he tastes. She wants to hold his face, feel the stubble on his jaw under her palms. Inhale his scent, breathe him in, commit every little fragrance note to memory. 

But she doesn’t.

And he makes no attempt at it either, though he’s obviously thinking about it.

They’re still tiptoeing around each other. Which is ridiculous, considering everything they’ve been through not only in the last couple of months, but during the entirety of their relationship. After everything that happened, even just in the past hours, there should be no  question where they stand. She died for him. He died for her. He professed his love to her. What else could they possibly need to be together like any other regular couple?

But that’s the thing. They are not a regular couple. They never will be. And maybe that’s what is so special about them.

At the same time, though, she knows they both need some time to adjust to their new relationship status. They’ve been trying to figure out this being together thing for a while now, yet anytime they thought they were headed in the right direction, all hell would break loose—figuratively and literally— and set them at least a couple of steps back. In any other situation, either would have already given up, believing that it simply wasn’t meant to be if the whole universe kept trying to tear them apart. But this is different. They are different. And while it has been hard and complicated, every obstacle they’ve encountered only drove the both of them to try harder, to fight more. And they’re still trying. In the end, it’s all that matters.

While she wishes that there were no more barriers between them, Chloe knows she should also take into account what a crazy day this one has been. This awkwardness, this uncertainty, is only natural. Things will sort themselves out if they just give each other a little time.

So, instead of acting on instinct and kissing him the way she so desperately wants, she reaches for his hand instead, giving it a gentle squeeze before walking into the bathroom. Lucifer’s eyes stay glued on her for a few more seconds, mutual understanding passing between them silently, before he tips his head forward in a nod and leaves, closing the door behind him.

Chloe heaves out a long sigh.

There’s no use in dwelling on how things would be now between them if Michael hadn’t showed up, if Lucifer hadn’t left to go back to Hell or she hadn’t tried to poison him over a year ago, if they had been able to face their feelings sooner rather than later. Choices have been made—theirs and others—that led them to where they are now, standing on opposite sides of the same door, almost afraid to even touch and disrupt this very delicate, very precarious balance they’ve been trying to build with so much difficulty day by day.

But they’ll get there eventually. She has to believe that. They will find a way to be together without fearing that something—anything—might ruin it all one last irreparable time.

She can’t get the clothes off of her body fast enough. Once she’s kicked off her boots, each piece of clothing soon follows in a heap on the floor, eager to rid herself of the reminder of their latest tragedy. Chloe tries not to focus on the dark red stains on her clothes, but she can’t ignore the specks of dried blood on her hands and her stomach no matter how hard she tries. All she can do is let the downpour take care of it all and watch, almost entranced, as it melts away the traces of the day’s events, hoping the images of it will flow down the drain just like the water, now tinged a pale red, is doing. 

She showers quickly but thoroughly, focusing on the spots where the blood has stubbornly stuck to her skin, clinging to her and refusing to let go. She rubs shower gel through her fingers, then on her belly, almost surprised when she doesn’t find a scar there, where the rod pierced her stomach and her organs. The only scar she finds there is the one of the C-section she got when she gave birth to Trixie, running across her lower abdomen, now very faint and almost invisible after so many years. Chloe can only guess being brought back to life by a ring that once encapsulated Lilith’s immortality doesn’t leave scars behind. 

It’s a relief, honestly, yet it still feels quite odd. A mark on her skin would have been a testament to what had happened to her. It would have made it feel more… real, in a way, since she still can’t quite believe today actually happened, but she’s glad she won’t have to deal with a huge scar for the rest of her mortal life. At least she was spared this inconvenience.

Once her hair is clean and every inch of her skin has been nearly scrabbed raw, Chloe turns off the shower and steps out. She exits in a cloud of steam, dripping water on the softest, most expensive shower mat she’s ever seen, and wraps herself in one of Lucifer’s fluffy towels, still feeling extremely tired but also slightly less tense. With the spare, smaller towel, she dries her hair as best as she can before creating a makeshift turban on top of her head, then moves to the sink to brush her teeth.

With the palm of her hand, she attempts to clean the fogged-up mirror, trying to catch a glimpse of her own reflection. She regrets it immediately. Whatever little mascara she still had on since this morning is now smudged under her eyes and running down her cheeks, giving her a very Emo look that is so not flattering on her adult face. And to think she once purposefully did her make-up this way. What was she thinking during her teenage years? She shudders at the mental image.

Rummaging through the bathroom drawers, she finds some cotton pads and a half-empty bottle of make-up remover. Chloe has an inkling of whom they might have belonged to not so long ago, but she’d rather not ask Lucifer for confirmation, just in case they weren’t left behind by the specific ex-girlfriend she’s thinking of but rather some other random one night stand. That would be a very awkward conversation to have during an already tense time. Or in general.

Gift horse and all that, she decides, and with that thought in mind she removes the remains of her mascara.

When she’s done with cleaning her face and brushing her teeth, Chloe gathers her clothes in both arms, leaving the bathroom in search of a laundry basket. She thankfully finds one, although she can’t for the life of her picture Lucifer ever doing his own laundry—she knows for a fact his expensive tailor-made suits get professionally cleaned—and tosses her jacket and pants inside along with her underwear. She only leaves her top behind, taking a second to examine it.

There’s a big hole right where the fabric usually sits on her stomach, and the stain is now a dark brown, fully dry and stiff. While the blood might wash out completely, that tear in the fabric won’t go anywhere. There’s no use in putting it through a washing machine cycle; it’s not like she’s ever going to wear this shirt again, and a part of her is thankful for that. It’s one less reminder of today she’ll have to deal with. 

Only at that moment, as she leaves her top next to the basket so she can deal with discarding it tomorrow, does Chloe remember that she didn’t bring a change of clothes. Her mind was entirely elsewhere when Lucifer had proposed taking her home, and she’d simply told him to keep driving to his place without realizing that she wouldn’t have anything to wear to bed or in the morning. The thought had seemed so pointless it had completely slipped her mind. Right now though, it represents a problem.

What is she supposed to wear? 

She can’t just waltz inside Lucifer’s bedroom fully naked, can she? He would probably get the wrong idea.

Not that she doesn’t want to have sex with him. She does. Very, very much so. But tonight doesn’t seem like the right time to surprise him by stepping out of his walk-in closet completely undressed.

While she’s not sure he would mind—who is she kidding, of course he wouldn’t mind, it’s Lucifer she’s talking about, after all—maybe it would be inconsiderate of her to presume he’d be comfortable with that. He’s been through so much today. They both have. And though he might, under regular circumstances, be up for sex pretty much anywhere anytime, he might not be in the mood for it right now. He’s tired. She is tired. Chloe shouldn’t even be considering sex an option tonight.

Then again, it’s not like they’ve had sex since that one night after the whole Jed ordeal. 

Since then, everything that could have possibly gone wrong has, in fact, gone wrong. It’s not like they had the time nor the mental and physical energy to jump each other’s bones at any given chance. They’ve been so consumed with trying to prevent one catastrophe after the other that the thought of sex hadn’t crossed their minds. 

Well, it had crossed Chloe’s mind once or twice. 

Fine, maybe a little more than that, but still. The timing never felt right. Up until very recently, they didn’t even know if they would end up as a couple or friends or partners. 

Now though… Things don’t appear to be so up in the air anymore, do they?

Her eyes fall on the ring on her left hand almost pulled by a magnetic force. The stone, once onyx in color with Lilith’s immortality, is now an off-white shade. That gesture he’d made, putting the ring on her fourth finger, and the words he’d choked out in a desperate attempt to save her, seem pretty self-explanatory in hindsight. 

Perhaps she’s reading too much into it. 

It wasn’t a marriage proposal. 

For all she knows, Lucifer could have put the ring there by mistake. 

What he said to her is what truly matters.

Lucifer loves her. 

He loves her to the point of giving his life to save her. That’s more confirmation of his feelings than she could ever ask for.

That doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that her mind shouldn’t jump straight to sex just because they’re about to share the same bed and she doesn’t have any clothes, though.

She’s a mess. 

Her mind is firing off in a million different directions, and none of them seems to lead anywhere. 

Chloe forces her gaze up, scanning the room around her as if it holds the solution to her current problem. She’s met with a seemingly endless parade of suits and shirts, all sorted by color and perfectly arranged. 

She’s worn one of his shirts to bed before. They’re quite comfortable and soft, come to think of it. 

Without a second thought, she walks over to one of the clothes shelves displaying a variety of white shirts and picks one out. The towel wrapped just below her armpits unravels and falls to the floor with a muffled thud as she slips the garment on. Then, she moves to one of the drawers where she knows for a fact Lucifer keeps his underwear—she found it while snooping around when she broke in with Linda on her birthday—and pulls out a pair of white silk boxer briefs. They’re a little too big on her but, at least for the night, they’ll do just fine. When she’s done buttoning the shirt almost all the way up, leaving only the two top buttons open, she gives herself a quick glance in the mirror. Chloe deems the ensemble appropriate enough and, after removing the towel still wrapped around her head, she discards it in the laundry basket along with the bigger one she’d used to dry her body.

Her hair will have to stay mostly damp tonight. There’s no way she’ll be able to blow-dry it. Every muscle in her body is already aching without adding the extra strain. Lucifer’s Egyptian silk sheets have undoubtedly endured worse than wet hair. They’ll be just fine. 

With one last look in the mirror, Chloe decides it’s about time to head to bed. 

She’s a little on edge when she steps out of the walk-in closet despite not knowing why. He won’t mind that she sorted through his clothes in order to find something to wear. Then again, she’s been on edge for what feels like weeks, she’s not sure she even remembers how to be calm and relaxed. This fight-or-flight mode she’s been stuck in will eventually fade away. Or at least she hopes it will.

Lucifer is already in bed when she approaches him. 

He sits with his back against the headboard, his legs covered by the sheets while his chest is on full display since he apparently decided to forego the use of a t-shirt or a robe. The elastic of his silk pajama pants peaks from above the fold of the sheets. They’re made of a similar material—Lucifer seems to really like silk—but they are differ in color. Where the sheets are gold and reflect the warm hue of the bedside lamps, his pajama pants are a deep burgundy that makes a lovely contrast with his tan skin.

His beauty is magnetic. Looking at him feels like admiring a Greek statue sculpted by the most talented artist to ever exist. He belongs in a museum, where art should be. 

Thank God I don’t have to share him with the rest of the world, she finds herself thinking.

Chloe won’t share that thought with him, though. Better not stroke his ego too much.

Upon hearing her footsteps, Lucifer’s eyes shoot up immediately, and an array of emotions flash across his face as he rakes his gaze over her whole figure from top to bottom, then back up again. 

“My…” he whispers, the first genuine smile of the night curving his lips. “You’re quite the vision, Chloe.”

Heat spreads from her chest upward, staining her neck and cheeks pink. Goosebumps travel across her skin, nearly causing her to shiver.

Will she ever stop blushing when he looks at her this way? His eyes are burning with unfathomable energy, and she can clearly see that it comes from hunger and adoration and… love. Chloe can say that now. When he looks at her, she can see so much love in his eyes.

“I didn’t have any clean clothes so… Yeah,” she shrugs, hoping it will come off nonchalant rather than awkward.

“I’m glad you didn’t,” he chuckles. “That shirt has never looked better. Please, feel free to lay waste to my closet anytime your heart desires.”

Seeing him content is contagious, and she can’t help but smile as well. “I promise I will remember to bring a change of clothes next time,” Chloe says, fiddling with the cuffs of his shirt covering her hands.

“I’m afraid I can’t promise your clothes won’t mysteriously vanish so you will have no other choice but wear mine,” he jokes, and she knows he’s only partially messing with her. 

She rolls her eyes at him. “Do you have a thing for me wearing your clothes?” she teasingly asks, but there’s genuine curiosity in her question.

Lucifer lifts a shoulder casually. There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes when he says, “What can I say? It has been a fantasy of mine since I found you here one night a couple of years ago, in my bed, wearing nothing but your underwear and my shirt.”

Chloe’s smile grows wider. “I was wearing your socks, too,” she playfully points out.

“Right, of course. How could I forget about the socks?”

They both laugh, and it’s so liberating being able to do so without any lingering worries looming over their heads that it nearly brings tears to Chloe’s eyes. 

If only things had always been this easy and natural between them…

His gaze softens. “Come here,” he whispers a moment later, patting the empty side of the bed right next to him with his hand.

Slowly, Chloe closes the distance between them and climbs on the bed. His arms immediately welcome her, one sneaking behind her shoulders, the other wrapping around her middle, pulling her into a warm embrace. She rests her head on his shoulder, shifting ever so slightly to bury her face in the crook of his neck. Closing her eyes, she inhales a lungful of his scent. The smell of soap and some kind of perfume—lotion, maybe—invade her nostrils. With one hand, she reaches to touch his short beard, gliding further up until she finds his hair. It’s still a little damp, and she can feel the soft curls beneath her fingers.

“You showered too,” she can’t help but notice out loud, tilting her head to look at him.

“I couldn’t go to bed reeking of body odor, dirt, and…”

He trails off, and she doesn’t need to hear the rest of the sentence to know what he’s implying. 

He probably smelled like blood as well. His own, hers, his brother’s. There had been a lot of it from the altercation.

“Do you have another bathroom here I don’t know about?” she asks then, more as a way to try and change the topic.

“No, I went downstairs,” Lucifer explains with a soft chuckle. “I keep Mazikeen’s old apartment unrented, just in case she ever decides to move back in.”

Chloe narrows her eyes, confusion clearly written on her face. “Maze used to live downstairs?” she questions.

His expression is downright quizzical when he asks, “Where did you think she lived before she moved in with you?”

“Ah.” She can feel her cheeks turn red under his stare. She must look really stupid right now, acting so surprised over something he deems obvious. “I kinda assumed she… uh… lived with you? She was always here whenever I came to find you.”

“You thought she lived in my penthouse?”

More heat creeps up her face. “Well, yeah.”

Lucifer laughs. His whole body shakes with the sudden outburst, and it goes on way longer than it should. From the outside, it must look like she just told him the grandest joke in all of human history.

“Hey, stop making fun of me!” Chloe chastises him, using the back of her hand to whack his pecs playfully.

Finally, his laughter dies down. “Sorry. I just pictured living with Maze and the image is quite comical,” he admits candidly.

She purses her lips hard trying her best not to smile through the embarrassment. “I used to live with her, you know,” she reminds him.

“Was it fun?” he rebuts, eyebrows arched pointedly.

“She had her good moments.”

“I bet you can’t remember a single one.” Lucifer shakes his head. “If I let her settle here, every square inch of this place would have been littered with knives and whips. They might have come in handy at times,” he murmurs, waggling his eyebrows suggestively, “but would have clashed with the rest of the decor. And I’m not sure all the participants in her torture sessions would have been fully consenting. Besides,” he continues, “I value my personal space too much to have a roommate, especially if said roommate is Maze.”

“Eve used to live here,” Chloe can’t help but argue, the comment simply slipping past her lips against her better judgment.

So much for not mentioning his ex.

His mouth curls in a grimace, evidently caught off-guard. “Uh, right, but that wasn’t at all my idea. She pretty much moved in of her own accord, and we all saw how well that went.”

Chloe does remember how it went, the same way she remembers that she was partially at fault for the way his relationship with Eve began—and subsequently ended. She’d said and done things that had hurt him in ways she wasn’t sure at the time he could ever forgive her for, and while she didn’t blame him for finding solace in the company of a woman who seemingly understood and accepted him like Chloe wasn’t able to, their relationship had in turn hurt her more than she’d thought possible.

Back then she didn’t think a relationship between her and Lucifer was ever a possibility. Not just because she was still struggling with the whole Devil thing, but also because when they’d given themselves the tiniest chance, it never worked out. Thankfully, she was wrong, yet she can’t ignore that she played a role in delaying being together the way they are now. As much as she’d like to blame Eve for ever coming between them, Chloe knows the two of them were their own biggest enemies.

“Don’t worry,” she finds herself saying, desperate to fill the uncomfortable silence she inadvertently created by bringing up such a sore subject. “I promise I won’t sneakily move in with you.”

If anything, what her offhand comment does, is make matters worse. Lucifer’s eyes go wide, alarmed, as he leans away with a look of sheer regret on his face.

“I wasn’t suggesting—”

“No, I know,” she tries to backpedal, although it’s too late now. “I didn’t mean to… It’s not like—”

“By all means, you’re welcome to move in anytime.”

That shuts Chloe up entirely.

When this conversation started, she hadn’t expected to veer so out of the blue into a whole moving-in discourse. The change of topic is so startling, Chloe can’t help but scoot away to take a better look at him.

“Are you… Is this a joke?” she asks through a nervous laugh.

Lucifer shakes his head firmly, yet the alarmed look on his face suggests nothing but uncertainty. “Not at all,” he replies.

“You must be joking!”

“I assure you I’m not. I mean it, you should move in.”

She laughs again, unsure whether to find the situation hysterical or absurd. “Isn’t it a little too soon to start thinking about living together? I mean, this is new.” She gestures vaguely between the two of them. “We are new.”

“I would argue it has been a long time coming,” he rebuts, sounding vaguely offended.

“Yeah, okay, but—”

“Eve moved in on the very first night we reconnected.”

Chloe quite literally glowers at him upon hearing that name again. “Seriously, can we stop talking about your ex? It’s unnerving.”

“You’re the one who brought her up,” he says, putting his hands up in mock-surrender.

Okay, maybe he’s right. 

“Still,” she sighs, “can we drop the subject? Like, the whole moving-in thing?”

“So you’re saying no,” Lucifer concludes, his face falling. 

He sounds a little hurt by her rejection, which is kind of surprising. Moments ago he seemed so adamant about valuing his personal space, and now he wants the two of them to start living together. It’s confusing.

Then again, when are things ever not confusing between them.

“I… I guess I’m saying no,” she finally concedes.

“But why?”

“Because…”

Chloe is not entirely sure why she’s saying no, though there are a couple of main reasons currently swirling her mind. 

She meant it when she said things are new between them. Adding living together to this already unstable mix doesn’t sound like such a smart idea. 

And then there’s Trixie, who’s already dealing with so much. Chloe can’t possibly imagine adding moving to a different house to her daughter’s plate as well.

Her shoulders sag, defeated. A part of her wants to say yes despite the voice of reason in her head telling her it would be irrational and rushed. She’s in love with him, for fuck’s sake. Of course she wants to be with him as much as possible. Considering he’s supposedly the new God now, who knows how much time they will realistically be able to spend together. Living together would make things easier, maybe.

But she can’t. Not like this. Not right now.

Lucifer’s hands move to cover hers, squeezing them softly. When she lifts her gaze, Chloe finds his eyes looking directly into hers.

“I just want you around all the time,” he admits in a whisper, his tone sweet and reassuring. “Is that such a terrible thing?”

She shakes her head, tears brimming in her eyes. “No,” she murmurs. “Of course not. I want that too. It’s just not really an option right now.”

“Why not?”

“Because I have a daughter, Lucifer. I can’t uproot Trixie’s whole life simply ’cause I selfishly want to be able to spend more time with you.” Blinking the tears away, she takes a deep, calming breath before continuing. “She just lost her dad. I know what it feels like. Her whole world has been turned upside down, and now more than ever she needs stability, she needs a sense of familiarity wherever she can possibly get it. Moving to a different place, losing her own room, the comfort of her own house, would be a shock right now. I can't do that to her. You understand that, don’t you?”

It takes him a moment of evident hesitation before Lucifer ultimately nods.

“Besides,” she says, the smallest smile appearing on her lips for just a second, “I’m not sure you’d want a hyperactive preteen running around your penthouse twenty-four-seven. I can be maddening. She’d probably tear this place apart in the span of hours. You thought Maze would have been a problem? Trust me, finding knives lying around is nothing compared to the amount of stuffed animals and fuzzy socks and forgotten homework you’d be finding for weeks after spending a single afternoon with her.” She pauses for a moment, rethinking her statement. “Actually, don’t get me started on knives, because no matter how many times I confiscate them, she somehow manages to get more and hide them in the most unthinkable places,” she chuckles softly.

“She grew up around a demon, darling. What did you expect?” Lucifer jokingly replies before his expression returns, serious yet still loving. He strokes the back of her hand gently. “I know you and the urchin are a package deal. I would never ask you to move in without her. But I see what you’re saying. She comes first.”

Her smile is a little less strained when she looks at him this time. “And, well, with this whole God thing on our hands now… Well, mostly your hands, I guess… There’s a lot we need to sort out in that area. We don’t even know what that entails. What if you need to move to Heaven permanently? I can’t move there with you.”

His hands fly up to cup both sides of her face, holding her in place firmly but gently so she can’t look away when he speaks next. “Chloe, listen to me. I am not going anywhere. I will never, ever, leave you behind. Not for Heaven, or Hell, or any other place in the entire Universe. My home is here. It’s with you. I will always find a way to come back to you if it’s the last thing I do. Where else could I possibly go?” he whispers, leaning closer so that his forehead rests on hers, eyes burning into hers with intensity, holding utmost truth. “The one thing I care about—the one I love—is right in front of me. I’m holding her in my hands. You are and always will be my priority. I will be wherever you are.”

The tears she has so desperately tried to keep at bay—since this more heartfelt conversation started, and even before then, after the battle had stopped and the day’s events had hit her in full force—finally escape her control. They spring to her eyes, blurring her vision, and ultimately roll down her cheeks when she can do nothing to keep them from falling. 

“I know,” she tells him, because she wholeheartedly believes him and trusts him when he says he won’t go away. Despite everything that’s happened in the past, she knows he would never willingly leave her side. Not even death could ever keep them apart.

“Shh, it’s alright.” Lucifer whispers to her tenderly as he pulls her into his chest, allowing her to be vulnerable with him the way he always has. 

With him, she’s never felt the need to appear strong and composed as she always does with the rest of the world. He won’t think less of her for letting her emotions run free. He won’t judge her. He accepts her completely, unconditionally, in a way even she sometimes struggles to do with herself. 

He brings out the best in her but also welcomes her flaws, her insecurities, and cherishes them no less than he would her positive qualities. If this isn’t the purest kind of love to ever exist, she doesn’t know what is.

With her eyes closed, her cheek plastered to the warm skin of his chest, Chloe sniffles, attempting to relax in his embrace. “I really tried not to get emotional,” she confesses, though her voice cracks.

“I’m sorry,” Lucifer breathes out, his tone just as affected and raw.

“It’s okay. It’s just been a… complicated day.”

“Yes, that is what I’m talking about.” He places a featherlight kiss on top of her head, then runs the tip of his nose through her hair, inhaling deeply. “I am truly, deeply sorry about today. You shouldn’t have been there. You were hurt. Y-You…”

Chloe knows exactly what he’s struggling to let out. “I know. It’s fine. I—”

“No, it isn’t fine!” he croaks, a whole array of pent-up emotions getting the best of him. There’s sorrow in his voice, there’s guilt and anger and fear in the way he trembles as he holds her closer. “You died, Chloe. You died! It would have never happened if not for me.”

She lifts her head slowly, carefully, and brings one hand to the side of his face to caress his cheek. With her thumb, she slowly traces under his eye, where a lone tear has fallen, wiping it away. “No. I’m here because of you.” He tries to shake his head ‘no’, but Chloe silences him. “See? This is what I was talking about. It’s not your fault, Lucifer. I knew what I was getting into. I knew what the risks were, walking onto that field with you, and I still chose to do it. I chose it. You tried to stop me and I still did it. And I would do it again, even though I know it would mean dying again. Do you know why?” More tears brim inside Lucifer’s eyes as he awaits the answer. “Because I’d rather die knowing I did everything to protect you and the people I love, than live knowing I stood by and watched. It’s what my dad taught me. It’s what you showed me every single time you stood between me and danger, even if you knew you could have died in order to protect me. You were always willing to sacrifice yourself to save me and I want you to know that I am ready to do the same for you. We’re partners. Nothing could ever come between that. And even though I knew the risks, I also knew that my partner would find a way to bring me back, to save me. And you did. So please, please, don’t apologize. Don’t feel guilty. You are the reason I’m alive right now.”

The most tender smile appears on his lips just as more tears slip out the corners of his eyes. “What did I ever do to deserve you?” Lucifer asks, and even though the question is entirely rhetorical, Chloe feels compelled to reply anyway.

“I don’t know. I guess even the Devil needs a miracle sometimes.”

His smile grows wider, and this time his eyes twinkle with unmistakable joy rather than unshed tears. “My miracle,” he murmurs, leaning forward to place his lips on her forehead.

She beams back at him. “Yours.”

“My love.” 

His voice is barely more than a breath when he speaks. In a second, the mood around them shifts so palpably, Chloe can almost feel the tension around them, buzzing like an electric current. Her breathing becomes shallow, her heart rate picks up speed, and she watches him tip his head forward in slow motion just like a movie scene. The anticipation is nearly dizzying, but it’s the kiss itself that makes her head spin.

His lips are soft and plump and just as sweet as she remembered. They’re delicate over hers, almost unbearably so, as if he’s afraid she might break if he dares use more pressure. The scratch of his stubble on her more sensitive skin is absolutely delightful though, the sensation alone making goosebumps erupt across her entire skin. All it takes is one gentle kiss, the smallest of pecks, and her whole being instantly catches fire.

And now her lungs are on fire as well because she apparently forgot how to breathe.

She has been starving for him, for his kisses and his touches, but she had no idea her body would react so strongly once they were actually this close again. No one else has ever affected her quite this strongly before. It would be embarrassing, because this is the kind of reaction that should only be normal for a hormonal teenager, not a grown woman such as Chloe, but that would only be possible if she had an ounce of care left in her, that isn’t the case. 

She has missed him too much to pretend otherwise. And why should she even pretend not to? She has already wasted too much precious time denying her own desires, shoving them into the furthest corner of her mind, and that hasn’t benefited anyone. Surely not her.

So she lets him know exactly what’s on her mind.

“I missed you so much,” Chloe sighs against his lips, placing another kiss on his mouth.

His lips curve against hers. “I never left,” Lucifer counters.

“But I did,” she admits softly. “Maybe not physically, but mentally… I’m not sure I was fully present. With everything that has happened with Michael and the rest of your siblings, and then Dan, I…” She heaves out, her eyelids fluttering closed for a brief second before she’s able to continue. “I didn’t mean to push you away, Lucifer, but I did. I thought I needed space and time to process, but the truth is that the more I tried to distance myself, the more I wished you were with me, helping me through everything the way you always have. And I wasn’t there for you even though I knew you needed me too.”

“You did what you thought was best for you,” he replies, wanting—and succeeding—to be understanding. 

Lucifer has matured so much in the span of the five years she’s known him. It’s all the more evident at this moment, when he’s able to accept and forgive her mistakes, because he now understands that there was no malice behind her actions. 

Not so long ago, a similar occurrence would have driven a wedge between them. It would have taken weeks to recover from her trying to distance herself. He would have felt blindsided, his trust betrayed, and that would have only driven them further apart. Now they’re simply able to talk about it and make amends when needed, and come out the other side stronger than before. 

It’s refreshing. 

Chloe shakes her head slowly. “I did the rational thing. But there has never been anything rational about our situation, and now I know that sometimes doing the rational thing doesn’t always equal doing the right thing.”

“What are you trying to—”

She silences him by kissing him again, this time pressing their lips together hard. “Just kiss me and don’t stop,” she whispers, pulling him in once more.

Lucifer makes no attempt at protesting, simply melting against her mouth exactly the way she wants him to. The kiss grows in intensity, and the more passionate it becomes, the less Chloe is able to feel any hint of exhaustion or any other sensation that isn’t directly provoked by his lips devouring hers. Their tongues meet, their hands begin to rove each other’s body, stroking and kneading every inch of exposed skin until they’re both panting and flushed. 

There’s not an inch of free space left between them, yet she wants to feel him more—she needs to feel him closer. And so she does by throwing one leg over his lap so she can sit on top of him. He more than gladly adjusts beneath her to accommodate her better. Their lips never part. Their tongues stay intertwined, licking and teasing one another in the most decadent of ways.

He’s already fully hard when she goes to straddle his lap, and oh does that turn her on even more.

Why did she assume he would be too tired to have sex again? She doesn’t even remember why she was so adamant about needing sleep. It’s not like they need to be up bright and early tomorrow morning for work. They have all the time in the world.

But where Chloe has decided to throw all caution to the wind, Lucifer seems to somehow have caught her usual inclination for rational thinking.

She can sense something is off the moment he breaks away, leaning his head against the headboard. “Perhaps it would be wise to go to sleep,” he suggests, though his eyes have darkened with desire.

“Sleep can wait,” she argues.

“Are you sure? It has been a long day. You probably need to rest.”

“I need you more.”

“I will be right here in the morning.”

“I need you now.”

If she thought his eyes were clouded with desire before, they’re now quite literally burning with it. His irises flash red for the briefest of beats as his resolve wavers and comes tumbling down. 

She knows what he’s trying to do. Lucifer is being considerate, showing maturity. He’s caring for her because he thinks that’s what she needs right now. Someone who will take the weight of the world off her shoulders for a while and carry it for her. If he needs to put his own wants aside for that to happen, so be it. 

It’s unbearably sweet. 

And also entirely unnecessary. 

Right now, what Chloe actually needs him to do is show her that this consuming need she feels towards him is reciprocated. Only then can they actually sleep a few hours. And later, in the morning, she needs him to show her again. Because where words might fail them at times, actions never do. Their bodies speak the same language, and she’s not sure she’ll be able to articulate the magnitude of her love for him without actually making love to him. 

And she desperately wants him to know just how much she loves him. 

“Tell me again,” he demands, his voice a low purr that travels straight through Chloe’s belly and ends in a pool of liquid heat between her legs.

She swallows hard, leaning into his touch when a hand sneaks up the side of her neck and his fingers tangle with her semi-dry hair. “I need you,” she breathes out, lost in the moment.

“Where?” Lucifer questions further, and fuck if that isn’t the hottest thing he could have said.

There is no trace of shame in her voice as she replies, “Inside of me.”

“Bloody hell,” he curses under his breath. “Do you have any idea what hearing you say these words, dressed like this,” he mutters as his eyes give her body clad in nothing but his shirt and boxers an appreciative once-over, “does to me?”

As if she needed the physical evidence of it, Lucifer presses his erection further against her, thrusting upward between her parted thighs. 

All she can think about is that there are still too many layers of fabric separating them. Every other thought has vanished.

A subtle, pleased smile tilts a corner of her mouth up. “I may have an inkling,” she playfully replies, “but I’m not sure. Could you show—”

In an instant, Lucifer has her pinned with her back against the mattress, caging her in with his whole body on top of her. He’d switched positions so fast, so unexpectedly, that Chloe can’t prevent a small squeal of surprise from escaping her. 

His intentions are glaringly obvious as they are, yet the moment he starts kissing her again while undoing each button of the shirt she borrowed, she almost heaves a sigh of relief.

Thank God. 

She isn’t above begging at this point.

A soft groan leaves her mouth the moment he breaks away again, but her protest is short-lived and dies on her tongue when he places his lips on her neck, slowly descending the further he opens the shirt to reveal her naked torso. He litters her exposed skin with open-mouthed kisses, tracing a path that goes from right below her ear to her chest, then down between her breasts to her bellybutton, stopping only when he reaches the waistband of the boxer briefs. With his teeth, he plays with the elastic, pulling on it gently for a couple of seconds before releasing it. Her head rolls back, a pleased hum trapped deep inside her throat, when the elastic snaps back and bites her sensitive flesh.

“Look at you,” Lucifer croons, lifting his gaze from in-between her parted legs. “So beautiful.” He nibs the inside of her thighs, eliciting a moan from her. “Simply perfect.”

Chloe would blush, if all of her blood wasn’t so busy rushing to a rather specific part of her body. Warmth spreads across her abdomen and slithers down her belly, making her clit swell and pulse with need.

His hands skate beneath the fabric of her shirt, gliding down her ribcage and hips until his fingers are hooked in the elastic of the underwear. Her butt lifts off the mattress, eager to be rid of the thin layer of fabric preventing her from feeling the touch of his skin, of his lips and tongue, exactly where she wants it. Yet, even when the boxers are out of the way, he makes no attempt at devouring her the way she expected. He takes his sweet time with her, making Chloe restless and impatient beneath him the more his lips veer further away from their intended destination and up her chest again.

When he reaches her mouth, she’s downright pouting at him. 

“You look adorable,” he humorously remarks, tracing her bottom lip with his index finger.

“You’re torturing me,” she scoffs.

He shakes his head, a sinful grin plastered on his face. “No, I’m savoring you.”

She rolls her eyes at him, but the frustration slowly building is easily forgotten the moment he kisses her with so much fervor and hunger it steals whatever oxygen she still had left in her lungs.

When he ultimately pulls away, Chloe wraps both her legs around his hips, trying to keep him close. Lucifer only leans back a few inches, a strange look on his face as he regards from above, one she could only describe as mingled lust and adoration. 

She hopes he will only ever look at her this way from now on.

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly. With his fingers, he moves a loose strand of hair away from her face and tucks it behind her ear. “I love you,” he says in a barely audible whisper. 

Her heart skips a beat.

She didn’t really get a chance to react the first time he told her. It all happened so fast. One second he was in front of her, declaring his love while his whole body caught on fire, and the next she was laying with her back on concrete as she regained consciousness after being brought back to life. The whole thing still feels like a dream, though every detail is permanently embedded in her memory. 

She never doubted his love for her, even when he didn’t seem able to utter the words. She always knew his feelings towards her were real. And words may be just words, but the truth is that hearing him say them makes her heart swell in her chest and tears form in her eyes with so much unadulterated joy she can barely contain it. 

There is so much she’d like to say to him right now, yet words seem to fail her. Her throat is suddenly too dry, her eyes too watery, and she’s sure tears would inevitably begin to fall if she tried to express every thought flooding her mind at this moment. Far too many tears have already been shed today. 

Instead, Chloe chooses to smile up at him and murmur a simple, “I know.”

That grants her a perplexed look from Lucifer. His expression is curious as he eyes her, perhaps a little taken aback by her response. “Are you not going to say it back?” he asks. 

He’s not disappointed. Mildly surprised, if anything. Almost pleasantly so, judging by the small smirk that is making one corner of his mouth twitch.

After having stopped for a fraction of a second, Chloe’s heart is now beating at double speed inside her chest, loud and thunderous against her ribcage. Still, she feigned nonchalance, lifting both shoulders in a shrug. “I think I’ll be holding off for now. You know, for all the times I said it and you didn’t. It’s only fair,” she teasingly replies.

“Is that so?” 

She’s about to say something when Lucifer begins his slow descent down the center of her chest and stomach, stopping only when the tip of his nose is at the apex of her sex. He nuzzles her exposed skin, right at the highest point of her pubic bone, his lips so dangerously close to her wet folds. 

Chloe swallows dryly, whatever witty remark she had planned entirely forgotten.

“Perhaps I should withhold your orgasms, then,” he mutters under his breath. 

A nervous laugh escapes her. “You wouldn’t.”

“I suppose we’ll have to find out,” is all he says before diving forward, going straight for the swollen bundle of nerves with his tongue.

A wave of pleasure rolls through her body, making her back arch off the mattress. “Oh my God,” she cries out at the unexpected sensation.

She can actually feel his lips stretch into a grin against her skin. Lucifer lifts his gaze, one of his eyebrows quirked humorously. “There is no need for such formality, darling,” he coos as he substitutes his tongue with his fingers, rubbing her clit slowly. “You can still call me Lucifer.”

Her eyes widen as she realizes what she just said.

During their first time together, she’d actually had to make an effort not to say ‘Oh my God’ at any given point. She knew what a turn-off the mention of his Father has always been for Lucifer. To say it would have been awkward at best. This time though, she hadn’t even considered it. In the heat of the moment, it had simply slipped her mind.

She’s glad he found it funny rather than jarring. 

Then again, Lucifer is God now. Or he should be, at least. They haven’t seen any signs that would indicate something has changed in him yet. 

But that’s a thought for future Chloe to worry about. 

Right now she can’t help but roll her eyes at him, trying and failing to hide her smile. Reaching out with one hand, she playfully swats his shoulder. “Idiot,” she chastises him, but the word morphs into a moan the moment he resumes working his magic on her with his tongue.

Lucifer laps at her voraciously, as if starving for the sole taste of her, and in a matter of seconds he has her writhing beneath him. Her head rolls backwards as her fingers find his hair, grasping at the curly strands for dear life. She grips harder as the  intensity of her ecstasy grows. 

Fuck, he’s good. Almost too good. She’d nearly forgotten how incoherent and clouded with lust sex with him could render her brain. She can’t think straight to save her life, and maybe that’s a good thing. Nowadays, being able to tune out the constant stream of worry holding her mind hostage even in her sleep is a blessing. And he seems to know exactly what she needs to make her stop overthinking. 

She’s nearing her climax impossibly fast as he licks and teases every spot that would make her orgasm detonate with painstaking precision, as if he knows her body better than even she does.

It had taken Chloe years of self-discovery, of exploring herself in every way, to finally be accustomed to what worked and didn’t work for her. Yet, even their first time together, Lucifer had appeared so impossibly in tune with her body, as if he could read her mind and therefore knew exactly what makes her tick. Strangely, she’d felt the same with him, like she knew what he liked without the need to ask him first. It was incredible, being able to skip that whole clumsy trial-and-error phase at least in the sexual department of their relationship. 

She thought it might have been a fluke back then, a stroke of luck, but it appears obvious now that it wasn’t the case. They are simply connected in a way they could never be with anybody else, mind and body and soul.

Oh, the sensations she had denied herself during those years she spent resisting their attraction. 

Chloe is on the crest of her climax when he moves away abruptly, causing the impending orgasm to fizzle out just as quickly as it had built. Her eyelids flutter open on a stupefied—and very annoyed—groan, only to find Lucifer staring back at her with the biggest triumphant grin plastered on his face.

The smug bastard. 

Of course he’ll tease her into a wanton mess just to prove a point.

“I was so close,” she laments, tugging at his hair.

“I know,” he retorts and has the audacity to smile at her even wider.

Chloe scoffs. “Are you gonna edge me all night?”

“No,” he replies softly. “Only until you say those three little words. You know I will give you everything you desire, darling. Just say the words and it’s yours.”

“Just keep going?”

He arches an eyebrow. “Very funny,” Lucifer comments, moving to one side to bite the soft flesh connecting her hip and thigh.

“You’re being unfair,” she grumbles.

“And you are being stubborn.”

Chloe can’t help but smile. Delicately pulling on his hair, she guides him up until their gazes align, then plants the lightest of kisses on the corner of his mouth. “You love that I’m stubborn,” she reminds him in a whisper, grazing the short stubble on his jaw with her lips back and forth.

His grin turns into something sweeter, tender. “I do,” he agrees.

He smells of something masculine, like aftershave and body wash, but also of her, and Chloe knows she’d be able to taste herself on his tongue if she kissed him properly. It’s the most intoxicating mix, this tangible proof of what he had been doing just moments ago, with his head between her legs. Knowing how eager he is for the taste of her fills her chest with something akin to pride. 

Chloe has never been the possessive type. At this very moment, though, she wishes she could brand him with her own scent forever, so that anyone who dares come close to him knows to whom he belongs, who he’s always starving for.

What happened to her?

She’s so far gone. 

So desperately and undoubtedly in love with him.

It would be easier to simply give him what he wants and in turn receive what she wants, but Chloe is stubborn, and she actually likes this back and forth between them, the constant push and pull in their dynamic. It’s what makes them this perfect—and perfectly complicated—match. 

And so, instead of letting out the words that have been on the tip of her tongue for hours now, what she whispers to him is, “You should know better than to toy with me, baby, because I can play this game too.”

Her fingers loosen their grip on his hair, gliding down the side of his face, tracing the contour of his bicep, then moving to his abs until her fingertips graze the waistband of his pajama pants. His muscles flex under her touch as he inhales sharply, eyes boring into hers with so much intensity and desire and anticipation. A corner of her mouth twitches, unable to suppress her smirk upon hearing the strangled moan that escapes him when her hand slides beneath the fabric and her fingers wrap around his hard cock. 

Propped up on his forearms, Lucifer’s whole body trembles as he struggles to keep himself from weighing down on her, but it’s impossible for him not to get lost in the first rush of pleasure surging through him. His eyelids close on a shaky exhale, and his forehead goes to rest on hers while he takes a moment to revel in the sensation of her hand slowly stroking his shaft up and down.

She loves watching him lose himself. It’s the most erotic image, one Chloe wants to be able to witness for all eternity. Luckily, the concept of time doesn’t apply to them, because she knows they will be together even after she’s left Earth, wherever death may decide to take her. 

Her hand works him with deliberate leisure, teasing him, to the point every muscle is pulled tight and his breathing becomes ragged. Sweat beads his skin, coating every inch of his exposed torso, making him glisten in the dim yellow light bathing them both. A whole range of emotions swarm his chocolatey eyes when he finally opens them again, as if he’s struggling with something greater than coming undone in a matter of seconds.

His voice is low and gravelly when he speaks again. “Do you want me to beg for it?” he asks, and at first Chloe thinks he’s talking about his own release, but his tone seems to hold something much more profound.

Still, she keeps her response light-hearted as she says through a soft laugh, “Oh, no. I will make you come… eventually.”

Lucifer shakes his head. He tries to say something, but the words are swallowed by a moan when she rubs her thumb on the swollen head of his cock, then gives his full length a firmer pump. His whole body stiffens in an evident attempt to keep from thrusting into her hand. 

She likes this power play more than she should. It gives her confidence the biggest boost, seeing him so affected by her.

Eyes squeezed tight, Lucifer appears to take a moment to recompose himself before attempting to speak once more. “Not that,” he murmurs. “Should I beg you to say you love me?”

Chloe’s eyebrows dip into a frown. He doesn’t think she’s being serious about this, does he? They’re just teasing one another. It’s what they always do.

“Lucifer, you know I do,” she replies, although her feelings for him shouldn’t even be in question at this point.

“I need to hear you say it.”

“Why?”

“Because…” he rasps out, and it becomes evident that he’s struggling with something other than simply holding himself off for a little longer. His voice is rough but not only due to physical strain. Something’s clearly bothering him. Gasping for air, he tries again. “Because I… I almost lost you, Chloe. You were gone. And the only thing I could think about was how I had wasted my chance to let you know how much I love you, and how I was never going to hear you say that you love me again.”

Oh.

She wasn’t expecting that. 

She was just playing around. The thought of how much her little game could potentially mess with his head after recent events hadn’t crossed her mind even for a second. 

Did she take things too far? 

It certainly feels like it.

Suddenly, having her hand down his pants as he so openly pours his heart out to hear feels wrong. She stills for a second, pulling her hand out and placing it on her stomach while the other moves up his arm to give his bicep a gentle squeeze.

“Babe, I…” she sighs, feeling like a complete idiot. “I was joking. I had no idea. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“You seemed to be having fun,” he comments with a shrug, a half smile curving his mouth on one side only, but the humor doesn’t reach his eyes. “I didn’t want to spoil it for you.”

“Well, I don’t wanna have fun at your expense. I’m sorry. I…” Her hand travels up his shoulder, going to cup his cheek. “I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable.”

Lucifer leans into her touch. “It’s alright. It was kind of hot, actually,” he chuckles, “but today has been…”

She doesn’t need to hear the rest to know exactly what he means. “It was intense, I know,” she concludes for him, rubbing small, concentric circles on his face with her thumb.

“Intense would be putting it mildly,” he counters, finally starting to relax. 

His expression is a little lense tense as all the pent-up emotions slowly begin to subside.

“Yeah,” Chloe scoffs lightly. 

She gets it. All that fear and pain don’t simply go away when the war ends. They linger. They trickle down into the very fibers of your being and wait for the moment you let your guard down to resurface. But she and Lucifer are stronger, together more than they could ever be apart.

His feelings are valid. Now more than ever, he needs reassurance, and Chloe is more than happy to give it to him.

“I love you,” she tells him softly, tilting her head up to place a light kiss on his lips. “I love you, and I’m right here, and I promise I will spend the rest of eternity reminding you how much I love you everyday.”

Upon hearing those words, his eyes warm up, and his whole body relaxes as at least some of the remaining anxiety leaves him. “Eternity sounds like a very long time,” he jokingly comments. “Are you sure about that? You might get tired of me.”

She shrugs, secretly glad they were able to avert yet another crisis. “I think I’ll risk it,” she replies. Her expression grows serious a moment later as she repeats, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Lucifer says, then bows his head to capture her lips in an achingly tender kiss.

Her eyes close on an exhale, wanting nothing but to savor the moment, the softness of his lips on her, the perfect way in which they mold to hers. Their tongues find each other, carefully at first, then with growing passion, until they’re both panting and desperate for more. 

When he settles between her legs once again, Chloe finds him still hard through the fabric of his pants. His rigid cock presses on her clit, effectively reigniting the fire of desire laying dormant in her lower abdomen but never fully extinguished.

“It was a good thing you stopped when you did,” Lucifer mumbles against her lips, gradually moving down her chin, then her neck, “because it would have been highly embarrassing if I came in my pajamas while discussing your passing.”

She can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation, and he takes the opportunity to find that sweet spot that causes her skin to break into goosebumps without fail whenever he sucks on it. 

“You’re such an idiot,” Chloe scolds him affectionately.

He looks up at her, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “And yet you love me.”

She can’t hide her smile as she replies. “I really do.” She presses her lips to his once, lingering there for only a second before moving across his cheek until she’s only an inch away from his ear. Her voice is a low purr when she adds, “Now take off your pants and let me show you how much I love you.”

“Your wish is my command, my love,” Lucifer chuckles, swiftly rolling off of her to rid himself of the only piece of clothing on his body. 

Unsurprisingly, he’s not wearing any underwear. Despite having a drawer full of it, the sum of which probably equates to half her yearly salary, he insists on going commando. She can’t really complain, though. It’s less fabric to remove in moments like this.

As Chloe sits up on her knees, shrugging the shirt off, one of Lucifer’s hands closes around her hip while the other does the same on her thigh, easily spinning her around and placing her on his lap. Then, he repositions the shirt on her shoulders, carefully leaving it wide open on the front so that her whole chest and abdomen are on full display.

“Keep it on,” he whispers as he slides his fingers through the hair at the base of her head, kissing his way down the side of her neck. 

She can’t keep the surge of laughter at bay even as her skin blooms with goosebumps, every hair on her body standing on end. “You seriously have some kind of clothes fetish,” she comments, sounding slightly winded.

“Only when you are the one wearing them.”

How can he make something so outlandish—and a little cheesy at that—sound so endearing and sweet? If anyone else said that to her, Chloe would have most definitely cringed, yet he says it and she feels all warm and fuzzy inside. It’s a mystery, honestly, but one she’s okay with never solving.

Besides, her brain doesn’t appear capable of focusing on anything other than the slow descent of his mouth down the center of her chest and the heat of his hot breath tickling her exposed skin. Her breathing hitches in her throat when the tip of his tongue flicks over her hardened nipple, only a second before he draws it into his mouth to suck on it. Her back arches, offering herself to him fully, and he doesn’t waste a moment before palming her other breast, kneading it, molding it inside his hand. Only when he’s content with the work of his mouth on her right breast does he move to the left one, giving it the same treatment.

Chloe is panting and gasping now, and even a little lightheaded as not enough oxygen fills her lungs. She’s tingling everywhere, overstimulated, while his hands mercilessly rove her body, teasing her, leaving her craving more. More of him. Not just touching her. She physically needs him inside of her right this moment. 

She’s never wanted anyone the way she wants Lucifer, desperately and without reservations.

The aching between her legs is impossible to ignore. She can’t help but grind down on him, desperate to achieve the friction she so needs, but it can’t possibly be enough. She’s restless at this point. And so fucking wet. 

If she has to wait even another second, she’ll probably spontaneously combust. 

Chloe has already reached her death quota for today and for at least a few decades to follow, so waiting is simply not an option.

Lucifer is still nibbling and sucking her skin when she takes action, pushing him down on the mattress and lifting his arms above his head so that he’s effectively pinned beneath her. He makes no attempt at freeing himself as she tries to hold him still by wrapping her fingers around his wrists. If anything, he seems to be enjoying a little roughness on her part. 

Chloe is all too aware of how impossibly strong he is, yet it doesn’t scare her, nor dissuade her from being the one in charge—in the bedroom or otherwise. And he likes it. And that makes her feel all the more confident in turn.

And fuck if that doesn’t turn her on more.

Diving forward, she captures his mouth in a searing kiss, prying his lips open with her tongue to find his. He must really like that, because his cock twitches between her thighs, demanding her attention. She more than willingly complies, rubbing her soaked pussy on his hard shaft, making hum and cry against her lips.

“You’re so eager,” he playfully remarks, their mouths only a hair apart, before he pulls her bottom lip between his teeth and bites it gently.

He’s gloating, the cheeky Devil.

She rolls her eyes at him. “Shut up.”

“Not a fan of delayed gratification, I take it.”

“Nope.” 

“What are you waiting for, then? I’m at your complete disposal. All of me is yours to take.”

And take she does. 

Chloe lets go of one of his wrists, letting her hand sneak between their bodies until her fingers wrap around the base of his erection, guiding it inside of her. 

Pure relief washes over her, the same she sees reflected in his expression of utter bliss the moment he sinks into her wet heat, filling her to the brim. He sighs and she does the same as her head tips forward.

Words can’t describe how right he feels, buried deep inside of her. It’s perfect, like they were made to fit together in every possible way. 

Maybe they were made this way, after all, but that doesn’t matter anymore. She chose him. He chose her. Whatever someone else decided for them holds no weight in the choices they made, the choices that ultimately brought them together, the choices they continue to make, not even God’s will. This is perfect because they love each other. This is all their doing.

It takes her a couple of seconds to adjust to his size, but it doesn’t bother her in the slightest. If anything, feeling the way he stretches her, how her body adjusts to fit him inside, is part of the pleasurable experience of making love to him. But when she’s finally ready to move, Chloe doesn’t waste a moment to do so, eager to give and take as much of this pleasure as she possibly can.

Her body knows what to do. Chloe easily finds a rhythm, her hips rising and falling on top of him in slow, calculated strokes at first, then picking up the pace when Lucifer impatiently thrusts into her from below. With his free hand, he attempts to grab her by the waist, but she recognizes his intentions immediately and quickly pins his arm back in place above his head. 

If the smirk briefly crossing his face is any indication, Lucifer seems to be enjoying the way she takes charge, and doesn’t dare utter a word in complaint. The only sounds escaping his mouth are sighs and hums as pleasure takes over his entire being, pulling every muscle tight, making his skin glisten with a sheen of sweat.

Chloe leans down to capture his lips in a messy kiss that is all tongues intertwining and teeth sinking into plush flesh. Every time she sinks down on him, she whimpers against his mouth, feeling the tip of his cock hit every sensitive spot just right. Each time, her impending orgasm builds higher and higher, nearly pushing her over the edge but not quite.

Weirdly enough, she’s not sure she wants to come right now. She does want to eventually, but she’d rather teeter on the precipice of ecstasy just a little bit longer, savoring every sensation to the fullest.

The pleasure keeps growing, though, and she finds it nearly impossible to resist the urge to chase it. Her hands glide down his shoulders, going to rest on his toned chest for better support as her movements become erratic, rising and falling faster on top of him. 

Lucifer sees it as an opportunity to take matters into his own hands—literally. While his left hand moves to hold her by her hip, his right one finds her clit, rubbing it fast with his thumb until she sees stars.

She couldn’t prolong it even if she tried. 

The pleasure is blinding. It makes her incoherent and reduces her willpower to zero. So Chloe simply succumbs to it, her back arching as her hands slip and go to grab his muscular thighs so that she doesn’t completely fall over. She rides the waves instead of fighting them, and the combined pleasure of his cock filling her up and the movement of his thumb on her clit has her coming undone in seconds, her eyes rolled into the back of her head as the orgasm detonates.

“Lucifer!” is all she’s able to say, her voice hoarse and broken. “Lucifer. Lucifer.” 

It sounds like she’s pleading with him. What exactly she’s asking of him, Chloe isn’t sure. Yet, somehow, he knows before even she does.

His arm wraps around her lower back, hoisting her up and simultaneously switching their positions so that he’s the one on top. Her head falls on the pillow with the softest of thuds, and her legs immediately encircle his waist while he’s still buried deep inside of her.

Lucifer kisses the side of her face, the length of her jaw down to her neck. His breath is warm on her skin as he breathes next to the shell of her ear, yet it makes goosebumps form in the wake of his passage.

“Do you think you can come for me again?” he asks as he slowly begins to move again.

The question makes Chloe chuckle. She could, but she’ll probably need some time to recover from the first orgasm.

“Y-Yeah, I don’t know—” she attempts to say, but then his hips snap against hers, making his pubic bone collide with her swollen, oversensitive clit, and the words die on her tongue. Her head rolls back into the pillows as a bolt of pleasure ripples through her. “Oh, God, yes,” is what comes out of her mouth instead. 

He smirks at her, evidently pleased with himself. 

He keeps the pace slow, thrusting into her with calculated strokes, each one harder than the one before. In her very over-sensitive state, every thrust makes her gasp, the sensation far too strong but never painful. She isn’t sure she can handle this much pleasure, yet there isn’t a single molecule in her body that wishes for him to stop.

With her back arched, Lucifer easily dives forward to close his lips around one of her nipples, sucking hard on it. His tongue swirls around the hardened nub, only conjuring more sighs from her.

His mouth brushes the side of her breast as he whispers, “You feel so good wrapped around me,” and his words only serve to stoke the fire of her mounting pleasure.

His movements quicken as he chases his own release, but a part of her has a feeling that he won’t allow himself to get there unless she’s with him so they can experience it together. He’s a generous lover. At times, Chloe finds herself thinking that he might like to give pleasure more than he likes receiving it. Or, at least, he’s like this with her.

“Look at you,” he murmurs as he moves back up to kiss her mouth, still pounding inside of her relentlessly. “So perfect.” His hands move to either side of her hips, thrusting harder and faster into her. “My very own miracle.”

In the past, those words would have effectively killed the mood for her, yet now Chloe can’t find a single reason to dislike the sound of them. It feels right. No, it feels downright arousing, the way he talks about her—about them—as if they were made for each other, to connect in this very special way. She likes being his miracle. More than anything, she likes that they are the only two people in the entire universe who can share this feeling.

“My beautiful, incredible Chloe,” he plows on, knowing exactly what his words are doing to her. “I can’t get enough of you.”

Is this the moment she realizes she has a praise kink? Because the way he speaks to her only heightens her pleasure by tenfold, bringing her closer to another orgasm. 

If anyone else said that to her, she’d most likely cringe. Chloe simply never liked dirty talk in the bedroom. It felt weird, like it cheapened the experience. With Lucifer, though, everything is different. She could listen to him talk her straight into oblivion and never get tired of him. 

She needs more.

And he doesn’t disappoint.

“I can feel you’re close. You are squeezing around me so tight,” he lets her know, and oh God does the acknowledgement make her core spasm even harder around his cock, bringing her all the more closer to her climax. He feels that too, because his lips stretch into the most beautiful and erotic mischievous smirk. “Good girl,” Lucifer coos, his voice raspy but sweet like honey. “Come for me.”

Almost as if obeying his command, her body reacts instantly, and her orgasm explodes right then. Only at that moment does he allow himself to follow her into the abyss, coming inside of her, repeating her name over and over until he’s spent and, by the looks of it, thoroughly satisfied.

He’s still on top of her, his cock still hard inside of her, his forehead against hers, when Chloe regains control over her muscles and moves a hand to his sweat-slick temple, brushing some of his hair out of the way. 

His eyes are closed as he attempts to catch his breath, and the smile on his face is one of pure contentment and relaxation.

“What was that?” Chloe finds herself asking, still in a daze.

His eyelids open to look at her. “I believe it’s called dirty talk, darling,” he teasingly replies.

She rolls her eyes at him, unable to conceal her growing smile. “Yeah, I know. It’s just… I don’t usually like that stuff. But with you… It was kind of hot,” she admits.

“Only kind of?”

“Okay, it was very hot,” she ultimately concedes.

Lucifer’s expression turns so smug she’s half tempted to retract her statement. “Oh, really? It was, wasn’t it?”

“I probably shouldn’t stroke your already huge ego,” Chloe counters just as he leans in to place a small kiss at the corner of her mouth.

His chocolatey gaze flicks upwards, a playful glint in it, before he murmurs, “As you very well know, my ego isn’t the only huge thing about me.”

“Shut up,” she retorts, pushing him off of her hastily, but she can’t keep herself from laughing with him when he rolls onto his back chuckling, then pulling her into a hug.

Later, she lies with her head on his chest, gently lulled by the movement of it expanding and contracting with each breath, his heartbeat echoing in her ear as it slows down to a normal speed. Her left hand rests splayed on his stomach. Her eyelids feel so heavy now, but her gaze remains fixed on the ring, on the opal stone and the way it reflects the light when it catches on the smooth, now-clear surface. 

A question forms and makes its way through the fog in her brain caused by both sleep deprivation and post-sex bliss. She can’t help but voice it. 

“I won’t die if I take the ring off, right?”

His eyes travel down to find her face. Chloe can feel them on her, though her own are still gazing at the object in question with odd fascination. 

Lucifer hums, pensive. “Actually, I’m not quite certain about the logistics of it all. I suppose it is a possibility. Shall we take it off and test this theory of yours?” he questions, his tone calm.

Her eyes go wide as she lifts her head to look at him. Suddenly, she’s far too awake. “Wait, what?”

His expression remains stoic for a moment before his mouth stretches lazily in the most unnerving yet charming grin. “I’m kidding, darling. You won’t die, I promise,” he replies, having the audacity to chuckle at her horrified face.

“You really are an idiot!” she chastises him, bowing her head to bite one of his pecs, just below the nipple. He doesn’t even flinch. Instead, he starts laughing. “It’s not funny! You almost gave me a heart attack.”

“It was funny,” he rebuts, still cackling at his own joke. “You should have seen your face. It was quite comical. But, on a serious note,” he continues as his fingers slowly caress her shoulder, moving up to stroke her hair, “nothing will happen if you take it off. The ring was just a vessel. Lilith’s immortality is what brought you back. Without it, the ring is just… Well, a ring. Nothing more than a piece of metal and stone. By itself it doesn’t have the ability to keep you alive, nor to kill you, for that matter.”

“That’s a relief,” Chloe mumbles, then takes a deep breath to try and calm her racing heart. “You probably want it back,” she muses on an afterthought.

“Actually, I don’t. It’s yours now.”

She lifts her gaze again, surprised. “Really? I’ve never seen you without it. It must have had some sort of sentimental value for you.”

“It did,” Lucifer concurs. After a beat, he appears to reconsider his answer. “At least, I thought it did. Lilith was an old friend—my first friend. We met when I was at my lowest. By the time she arrived in Hell, I had already spent eons there, completely by myself, aimlessly roaming the labyrinth of corridors thinking I would never see the light of day again. I was frightened and angry and… lost. I contemplated ending my life. I thought about that a lot back then,” he admits in a heavy whisper, “but that would have been pointless. For one, I didn’t have access to a weapon that could actually kill me. And even if I did, I would have just found myself back in Hell.”

Her heart gives a little painful squeeze in her chest. “That’s really sad, Lucifer,” Chloe murmurs, moved by his story. “You must have felt so lonely.”

“I did, for a very long time. And then she appeared.” He pauses for a moment, and his eyes move away from her face, falling onto her hand still laying on his stomach, but his mind is miles away, reliving those times. “She looked exactly like Maze, you know? The resemblance is almost jarring at times. I’d never seen anyone like her before. She was not an angel—that I could tell—but I had a feeling she wasn’t exactly human either, though I had only heard about humans from my Dad. Your kind was not yet in existence when I fell. You were still a thought in my Father’s mind at that time. And yet, somehow, I knew she wasn’t one of you.”

“How?” Chloe breathes out, almost afraid to disturb his stream of consciousness.

Lucifer shakes his head. “Call it intuition. Or perhaps a lucky guess. I’m not sure. All I know is that I took one look at her and I knew that there was something different about her. As it turned out, it seemed my Dad had made a mistake by creating her immortal and powerful, almost too much in his image. She was partially human, yes, but there was another side to her, something ancient and celestial who refused to bow down to the will of a sleazy, powerless human husband she hadn’t even chosen for herself. She was fearless and impossibly headstrong. Even God himself could not control her. She was rebellious. Too rebellious.”

“Just like you.”

“Just like me,” he says, the phantom of a smile crossing his face for a brief second. “Dad kicked her out of Eden just like he had done with me so many years before, when he cast me out of Heaven. It made sense that she ended up in Hell. Where else could a lost soul go?” 

His tone is wistful, charged with emotion. Chloe can’t even begin to imagine everything he went through, yet she can empathize with him, with the pain and the resentment she knows he now has let go of after reconnecting with his Dad and mending their relationship, but that ultimately shaped who he is as a person. 

A part of him, no matter how miniscule that is, will always mourn that loss of innocence. Who he used to be—that fallen angel, broken and hopeless, who felt unwanted, rejected by his own family—will forever live inside of him.

“For the first time in thousands of years, I was not alone anymore. And I finally felt a spark of hope.”

“We became friends almost instantly,” he continues after a long exhale. “We didn’t have much of a choice. We were the only two beings down there. Many, many more years would go by before the first human soul entered Hell, so we had no one but ourselves. It didn’t feel any less genuine, though. I honestly felt like she was the only one who could ever understand me, who knew what it felt like to be shamed and shunned because of who you are. Meeting her shaped me, for better or for worse.”

“We kept in touch even after she decided to leave Hell. I ‘no longer needed her’, she said, and left me with her children to rule my realm. My very own army. I would occasionally visit her whenever I managed to escape Amenadiel’s surveillance and pop up on Earth for a day or two.” He pauses for a second, lost in his own memories. “I last saw Lilith in New York in 1946. She was working as a singer at the Garden Club. I solved my very first murder then,” he says through a chuckle, but the glint of humor in his eyes is short-lived. “That’s when she gave me this ring, moments after having placed her immortality inside the stone, the very same she had stolen millennia before on her way out of Eden. She said that knowing there was an end was what made everything count, so she gave up her immortality to attempt connecting with humanity. I thought she’d lost her mind. I couldn’t fathom ever wanting to connect with humans on an emotional level. Physical connection—that I could understand. Anything deeper seemed pointless. For a long time afterward, I still believed it. And then, five years ago, I met you,” he whispers, tipping his head forward to brush his lips across Chloe’s forehead, “and the more time we spent together, the more I realized just how right Lilith had been all along. The ring was simply an heirloom,” he continues, bringing the story full-circle. “Something to remember my friend by. Now I know it had a purpose. Deep down, I believe I always had a feeling about it. I can let it go now that it did the one thing it was always supposed to do—help me save the love of my life.”

Silence falls heavily on them once he’s done talking, and it gives Chloe some time to mull over everything he had told her. 

She really appreciates that he can now share more of his past with her, although parts of it still deeply hurt him. He’s more open with her, to a level she had sometimes feared they would never reach, and that’s a sign that maybe Lucifer finally knows he can let his walls down around her without worrying he might scare her away or that she might judge him. 

She likes being the only one able to see this more vulnerable, raw side of him—the real Lucifer—and learn about his past, all the events that shaped him and made him the man she loves today.

“What I’m trying to say is,” he says after a long moment, breaking the silence, “I’d like you to keep the ring. If you want to, that is.”

How could she refuse after everything he just told her? 

“Of course. I’d like that very much.”

Chloe smiles up at him and, this time, when he reciprocates, she sees nothing but contentment in his eyes. It warms her heart.

“I’ll probably have to switch fingers, though,” she adds as an afterthought, holding up her hand to examine the ring in question. “It’s a little too big on me. Maybe I’ll put it on my middle finger,” she muses.

“I like it there,” Lucifer replies. “I’m sure we could easily have it resized.”

“I still think I should wear it on a different finger,” she argues, and a part of her hopes he won’t press the matter any further so she won’t have to explain why she’d rather not keep it where it currently is.

She has no such luck.

“Why?” he insists.

“Because it’s on my ring finger.”

"Exactly. As the name suggests, it’s where rings are supposed to go.”

Oh, for crying out loud.

“Yes,” she heaves out, “but it’s usually reserved for engagement rings and wedding bands.”

“And?”

She shrugs. “I don’t want people to see it and make assumptions, that’s all.”

Now that she said it out loud, Chloe realizes it might sound a little silly.

Why should she even care what people might think about the placement of the ring? The ones she actually cares about are all in the know—except for Trixie, but that will need to be remedied at some point soon—and won’t ask questions. Everyone else are just acquaintances whose opinions wouldn’t really matter anyway. 

The truth is that a part of her hoped it meant something to him, that the gesture he’d made in Heaven wasn’t simply a spur of the moment thing, but she’d rather play it off than admit to it. 

It would be too embarrassing.

What if Lucifer thought she’s eagerly waiting for him to propose? It’s not like she wants to get married anytime soon. They just barely made things official. That wouldn’t simply be rushing things—it would be a whole home run sprint.

But maybe—just maybe—she would have liked the thought that he actually wanted to propose for the simple knowledge that it was his intention.

Yeah, it sounds stupid and childish, especially considering that everything he’s done so far in order to protect her shows way more than words ever could how much he loves her. She shouldn’t need a ring to prove how he feels. Surely not after today.

Chloe half-expects him to become defensive, but Lucifer surprises her when he says, “As much as I don’t care about what anyone thinks, I see what you mean. I suppose that, if someone were to ask you about it, you could simply tell them it is a placeholder for when I will find the perfect engagement ring.”

Her heart stops altogether for a split second before restarting at double its normal speed, beating so fast she almost fears it’ll burst out of her chest at any moment.

She swallows, her mouth dry all of a sudden. “What is that supposed to mean?” she asks while chuckling, trying to keep her cool, but failing miserably when her words sound strained even to her own ears.

He smiles at her, tightening the embrace with his arm around her shoulders. “Chloe, I… Before you, I never thought I could ever desire belonging to someone in any way. The concept of marriage seemed ridiculous in itself, especially if it was contracted in the name of my Dad, who couldn’t even save his own marriage. But now… I’m not quite so opposed to the idea anymore,” he says in a way that holds so much sentiment it makes Chloe’s heart swell in her chest all the more.

“You make it sound very romantic,” she croaks out while tears brim inside her eyes, hoping it will come out as a light-hearted joke.

Lucifer laughs. “Let me rephrase that,” he begins, straining his posture so that he can more easily look into her eyes. “Chloe, today I realized that there is nothing I desire more than sharing my life with you, being able to spend every single day showing you and telling you how much I love you. And while I don’t need formalities to know I belong to you, I hope that one day, when I do propose, you will do me the honor of letting me call you my wife. Until then, this ring,” he says, brushing the white stone with the tip of his index finger, “will serve as a reminder of my undying love for you.”

She barely finds her voice to repeat, “When you propose?”

“Yes,” he replies softly, the smile on his lips unwavering. “It doesn’t have to be anytime soon. But one day, when we’re both ready, I would like to marry you.”

Okay, she definitely wasn’t expecting that. 

Maybe she hadn’t read the signs wrong, after all. 

Chloe is so taken aback, words fail to form into her mind, rendering her unable to reply in a coherent way. “I don’t know what to say,” she admits in a whisper, attempting to swallow the tears clouding her vision.

“There is no need for you to say anything, only that you love me,” he murmurs to her sweetly.

She can’t help but smile. “I do. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Lucifer says as he leans in to kiss her in a way that is brief but so impossibly tender at the same time, infusing her with his love. “We should get some rest now,” he whispers against her lips, the corners of his mouth curved upward.

“Yeah, we probably should.”

He places one last peck on her lips before stretching over to the light switch next to the bedside table, turning off the lamps. 

Bathed in darkness, with the moon as the only source of feeble light, Chloe rests her head in the crook between his shoulder and chest, allowing herself to relax as she closes her eyes. 

Exhaustion catches up with her once again, and her eyelids feel so heavy, as does every limb and muscle in her body. She’s already half-asleep, her breathing slow and steady, when Lucifer murmurs, “Goodnight, Chloe. Sweet dreams.”

Her mouth stretches lazily as she replies, “’Night, Lucifer.” 

Yet something keeps her mind alert, if only partly. 

Bits and pieces of their conversation replay on a loop in her mind, making her realize, even in her groggy state, that she won’t be able to fall asleep unless she voices what is nagging her so relentlessly.

“Lucifer?” she calls out in a breath, hoping not to startle him or disrupt his sleep.

He’s apparently still awake because he replies in a heartbeat. “Yes?”

“I’d like to marry you too,” she says, and even though she can’t see him, Chloe knows he’s grinning.

A sense of utter calm washes over her as she slowly but surely drifts toward slumber. She can’t fool herself into believing that everything will be perfect moving forward. What happened today, all they went through, will inevitably have repercussions on their psyches no matter how hard they try to pretend otherwise. But, at least for now, she’s happy. And she knows that, with Lucifer on her side, nothing bad will ever happen to her. And if it does, her partner will be there to help her through it. 

That’s all she could ever ask for.