A/N: This picks up some time around the start of season two but, honestly, no spoilers. Zero spoilers. Because, right now, there's pretty much zero plot.
No BR, so I apologise for any mistakes. (If I figure out how to use Tumblr I may be able to track down a willing sacrifice.)
The rustle of his crisps packet is the only noise to break the silence as Lucifer meticulously folds it in half - and then in half again.
Once more for posterity?
His fingers are still fiddling with the corners, considering, when the detective reaches out blindly and snatches the empty bag from his grasp.
Lucifer's brow furrows, his lips settling into a frown and he is not pouting, thank you very much, he's just - well, perturbed.
"Sorry, did you want some, Detective?" He'd been quite willing to share, of course, but the delicious morsels of fat and salt had long since been finished.
"No."
Well. Okay, so maybe he is pouting. It's just that they haven't said a word in over thirty minutes - Lucifer's kept count - and the detective won't even let him switch the radio on.
The devil is bored.
Stakeouts are supposed to be more fun, aren't they?
Lucifer sighs quietly – that is, as loud and drawn out as he dares - and Chloe shoots him a look, her delicate eyebrow raised in question.
Finding whatever answer she's seeking in his silence, a small smirk twists the corner of her lips. "Bored, Lucifer?"
Lucifer hums, unable to deny her claim but unwilling to admit she's right.
"You knew tonight was going to be a waiting game," Chloe reminds him, voice soft in the dark car. She's still maintaining the pretence that they need to remain quiet, even though they're obviously miles from any sort of sentient life.
Hell, Lucifer didn't know it was even possible to be this far from another soul and still be in L.A.
The devil waves his hand, encompassing the entirety of the empty, dark parking lot and the bleak desolate warehouse it's sat in front of. They've been surveilling the vast array of nothingness for hours now. "There's nobody here, Detective. This is a waste of time."
"You're probably right," Chloe concedes.
He can hear the but before she opens her mouth to tell him -
"But we haven't had the all clear to return to base."
"They've probably forgotten us," Lucifer says. "Or assumed we perished from the boredom hours ago."
"So you are bored," Chloe says. Her grin is a tad triumphant as she turns her gaze back to the dark shadows around the car. "And it's work, Lucifer, it's not a waste of time."
Nonsense.
"The rate things are going we have a greater chance of catching a cold than your suspect." Lucifer lets a suggestive note creep into his voice. "You know, Detective, there are better ways we could be spending our time together."
"After," Chloe reminds him, eyes cutting back to his face.
And yes, that was their deal, wasn't it? He's willing to wait for her - always - but -
There's a second, he knows, where she at least considers because the detective licks her bottom lip as her gaze roams his torso - and lower - and it's enough to send a jolt through each of his limbs.
Chloe's eyes flick back across to the abandoned warehouse and silence reigns again as a dozen images dance their way across the devil's brain - how soon after, exactly? Would she let him have her, right here in the car?
Does he want that? A dirty fuck in the back seat? Or does he want to take his time? Watch her writhing underneath him in his bed, his dark sheets twisted in her hands?
No.
No, he'd like her on top tonight. In charge. The way her earlier promise had implied. Riding him, then.
In the bed?
On his lounge?
Oh.
No.
Yes.
The Jacuzzi. Yes, definitely. He can already picture the droplets of water beading together and sliding down her skin-
Of course the detective notices the sudden trouble Lucifer has sitting still.
She's smirking at him, the cheeky little nymph.
"Is that the problem?" Chloe asks, voice low and honeyed. Smug. Teasing. "Impatient tonight, huh? Do you need a preview?"
Yes.
She won't, he knows, strict as she is when it comes to her rules about work and sex and sex-at-work, but he can't resist goading her back. "Are you offering, darling?"
He expects a witty rebuff but there's nothing - silence - and she won't, he knows, but then she is, her right hand reaching across the space between them to settle over the rapidly growing tent in his trousers.
Fuck.
Chloe presses her palm down, clever fingers squeezing him firmly and the simple touch is electric. But she's still just toeing at the line she's drawn in the sand, not quite crossing it until -
"Unzip your pants," she says in a breath, stampeding across every boundary she'd set with the one simple command.
Lucifer doesn't need to be asked twice. He's quick to comply, the backs of his fingers brushing the detective's as he deals, first with his belt and then trousers.
Chloe takes over once the button is undone, batting his hands away before slowly easing his zipper down.
And then her cold hand dips below his waistband, slipping between cloth to wrap around his heated flesh and Lucifer's breath catches in his throat because fuck, she really *is*.
"Up," Chloe says, her eyes glued to the fabric concealing her wicked fingers.
Lucifer braces himself with his feet and lifts his hips, allowing the detective to tug both his trousers and boxers down. She stops when they're just far enough to make it easy for her to free his cock.
There's a gleam in her cobalt eyes, a devilish curve to her mouth - and doesn't she wear that so well - as her teeth sink into her bottom lip. He can't tear his eyes from her face as her clever, calloused fingers coax him to full readiness in dizzying speed.
Chloe's face glows in the dim light from the dashboard, like a beacon in the dark and Lucifer allows himself to stare. His eyes drink in the arch of her brow, they follow the jut of her high cheekbones and he lets his gaze trace curve of her nose down to the soft, thick fullness of her lips. She looks like - like every sin he's ever wanted to commit.
When she notices his attention she grins, wicked, and twists her wrist in a way that makes his hips buck. Chloe likes it when she's the centre of his focus, he knows - she doesn't like to share, his detective, even if she won't exactly stake her claim on him.
She's making no effort to draw this out, touching him exactly the way he likes - firm, sharp strokes, the twist of her thumb over the head of his cock - gathering his own leaking pre-cum to spread over his tight skin.
It's rough and dirty, almost clumsy in the confines of the car, but the detective's hand is on his cock in the front seat of her police cruiser and the thought alone is so hot his brain almost whites out.
Lucifer can't speak, can't make a noise beyond his sharp, breathy exhales. He's aware of just how loud his moan is when the detective's eyes flick up to catch his and their gazes lock.
She's enjoying this, she always enjoys having control, having power over him, and so help him, he enjoys letting her.
Fuck.
He isn't going to last.
A brief flicker of delight crosses Chloe's face as she realizes how close he is and then she's squeezing him - hard. Voice full of mirth she quips, "Didn't know the preview would be over this quick."
Lucifer grunts, not at all ashamed. He's all too aware of the way the detective's thighs are clenched and he knows what the subtle twitch of her legs means as she fights the urge to rub them together, to find a rhythm to create her own delicious friction.
"You like this, don't you?" Chloe teases. "You like it when I break the rules?"
Lucifer can't answer - hasn't enough breath in his chest - but she pauses, waits. Right. Likes it when he's loud, doesn't she?
"Y-yes," he stutters. "Fuck" And then, "I like it."
Her hand starts moving again. Slowly. "Like what?"
He hisses her name - Chloe - and there must be enough desperation in his voice that she decides to be merciful.
"Maybe I like it too," she confesses before she leans closer. He thinks she's going to kiss him - finally - but she changes course. She veers south, down past his chest until Lucifer feels the hot exhale of her breath on his skin and then she - fuck - licks a long strip along the top of his cock.
And that's it.
With a strangled shout, Lucifer's head slams back into the headrest, eyes shut tight as lightning splinters his vision.
The devil comes hard, completely undone by a quick, dirty hand job in the front seat of Chloe's car.
And he's not ashamed. Not one fucking bit.
It takes a moment before his sight clears and when he looks down he notices the detective has tossed some napkins into his lap. She's gleefully smug as she swipes her thumb across her lower lip. Dirty little minx.
Lucifer wipes at the mess in his lap.
"Feel better?" Chloe teases.
"Much, thank you, darling," Lucifer replies mollified when he's only slightly out of breath. "You must let me reciprocate, of course."
He reaches for her but stops when she shakes her head, his hands hovering mid-air between them.
"After," Chloe stresses, eyes darting around the dark carpark once more.
Lucifer nods, even though he isn't sure she'll actually follow through – this is a night he's never going to forget and so she has, technically, met her side of their bargain.
And it wouldn't be the first time in the months since their arrangement has started that the detective had her fun and then left him before he was ready for the night to end. Lucifer's heart sinks when a quick glance at the clock confirms it's early still, just gone midnight, and he remembers she's used that excuse at least twice before - plenty of time for him to find another companion.
He could, if he were so inclined – he's finding, however, more and more that he's simply not.
(And no, thank you, he's not willing to think about what that might mean.)
Chloe doesn't look at him as he tucks himself away and straightens his clothes as best he can.
They each settle back into their previous positions, though his lounging is a touch more boneless now. The slight uptick that hangs on her lips is the only real indication that anything has even happened and it's another twenty minutes - of silence - before the radio crackles and they're free to take the rest of the night off.
The car roars to life in the dead carpark before Chloe guides them through the dark streets back towards his club.
Lucifer's not sure how to ask if she'll be accompanying him upstairs - he lets her set the pace this evening as he's done with all the ones before it - and it's not until she parks, tosses the keys to his valet, and follows him towards the lift to his penthouse that the devil feels some tension drain from his frame.
A smile, even, slips past his lips as he realises he'll need to bathe before he makes good on the detective's promise and that, of course, means he still has a decent shot at convincing her to join him in the Jacuzzi.
A/N: It has been a LONG time since I've written something like this. Like - eons. Honesty is appreciated.