AN: SO IT WOULD SEEM that i am in a Billie Eilish kick lmao because the title of this is again, one of her songs. The powder-fuse-friction line you'll find below was from the song.
But this is happier than when the party's over I swear!
"I'm like walking heroin," he once said. "Very habit forming."
She thought he'd been full of shit at the time (to be fair he still kind of was seeing how he was terrible at processing his emotions), but for the most part that had obviously not been true given everything she now knew.
He'd told her nothing but truth right from the start—this certainly wasn't any different, despite her weakly-tethered ambivalence in the beginning. And even then that hadn't lasted.
Wasn't that how she got here in the first place?
Here being one of the precinct's supply closets in the middle of the work day as she accosted the Devil with her lips. Naturally.
Fuck, she thought. It wasn't even her fault, she swears it.
It was just... did he have to be so—so—everything?
He was walking sex and he knew it, but that wasn't even what had done her in. Oh no, Chloe just had to fixate on the manner with which he tipped his head towards the ceiling and placed his hand on his stomach when he found something sincerely funny so as not to wholly betray his collected demeanor, or that one stupid, curly lock that fell right in the middle of his forehead as the products that held it together faded and the day ended, and the creases around his eyes that told of his genuine happiness to just be with her, whether they were in a crime scene surrounded by the stench of septic and blood or at her home where he was most unraveled—sleeves rolled to his elbows, jacket abandoned and the top two buttons of his dress shirt popped open while he made her and Trixie dinner, Frozen playing on a loop in the background.
She loved him, that much was clear. They had made love—many, many times—before, and then some. She loved him so damn much and the knowledge that he honored her with that same love a thousand-fold… there were days she couldn't breathe with the weight of it.
So it wasn't as if she'd expected their chemistry to fade but she had hoped it would at least… temper into the smooth embers of a quiet fire.
(Not that there was anything quiet about Lucifer, really)
Just enough that she wasn't wanting to jump his bones every other second.
Except every fucking time he so much as touched her much less looked at her, she could literally feel herself lose it—her breathing quickening, her pupils dilating and her body quivering with sweet anticipation. He would train those dark orbs solely on her, shining with all the flaming passion of a supernova when it was she who felt like a damn powder keg, and he the fuse.
Her blood would grow restless beneath her skin, roaring with a rabid, desperate desire to ignite.
She just… needed… friction.
So. Supply closet it was.
Of course, it had nothing to do with the case they had just closed wherein she had almost lost him to his recklessness again—that same recklessness that spurred him to always protect her.
"Chloe," he murmured with a slight chuckle, "Chloe, darling, slow down."
"Need to feel you," she returned whilst her shaky fingers flew down the buttons of his shirt.
He rubbed at her back, ever astute to her thoughts.
"I'm here," he soothed. "We have time."
Did they? She wasn't so sure and today had been a jarring reminder.
"It never ends well," he had gone on to say.
But then again, she told herself, burying the horrid montage of all the times either them nearly died threatening to drown her by swiping her tongue along his bottom lip so that he bloomed with a delicious moan for her—his heart racing strong and powerful and true beneath the palm she had laid across his chest, atop the space she had claimed as hers, a gift he had freely given.
There were worse ways to go.
AN: Hope you guys enjoyed this! If you have a request, let me know and will see what we can do about it!
You can also reach me on my tumblr (same handle)!
