They shuffle into the tiny space. Lucifer somehow effortlessly manages to close the door, half carry her, and open up the buttons of his jacket. All of this within the confines of one smooth, continuous sequence of movement.

How? How can he do that? How can he be so confident and smooth when her heart is racing like a jackrabbit and every logical (and presumably soon to be oxygen-starved) cell in her brain is telling her 'oh hold on, bad fucking idea Chloe!'.

How? Because he's more than just the devil, apparently. He's also a magician.

Nothing other than a supernatural force could have tempted her to do this. Tempt her to lift herself up onto the counter and scoot her butt far enough back so he has space to fit between her legs.

Champagne be damned, Chloe still knows much better than this. Not that it's stopping her or even slowing her down very much.

And, godamnit, do you know what one of the worst parts is? First class actually has way nicer bathrooms than coach. You might think that oh, an airplane bathroom is an airplane bathroom. But no. These are actually so much better it's kind of annoying. Bigger by degrees but also just plain classier, and is this a real marble countertop under her ass?

Okay, maybe classy is not the right word to use right now. But in a different situation yeah, this would be considered a classy airplane bathroom that she's about to get 'shtupped in.

So she smoothes out her hair and leans back. Tries to look all 'come-hither' and reminding herself to (for the love of all) definitely not wink at him. Ever again.

"Well, well, Detective. Look at you."

Lucifer is glowing. Grinning from ear to ear so wide that he's giving himself dimples.

Dan had dimples, too, but oh no she's not going down memory lane right now. Tonight (or today or whatever time it is wherever over the ocean that they are), tonight is all about her and her partner and the terrible decision they're about to make.

But said partner is also keeping his distance. At least as much distance as the tiny (but still classy) space will let them have from each other. He's unbuttoning his clufflinks and Chloe randomly laughs.

"Buying time, Lucifer? I didn't think you'd be the nervous one between the two of us."

His smile changes at that. Lessens in width but gains in sincerity. He steps forward. Just one step because a second one would have brought him to standing between her thighs.

Theoretically that's where he's going to need to go eventually, but for now awkward flirting and toeing the line is about all either of them can seem to bring themselves to.

"Nervous? Certainly not, Detective. Kindly remember that I am the one with prior experience with this sort of thing."

"Oh yes, Lucifer, you Cassanova," Chloe drawls with gentle mockery, "I'm sure you've brought many a Britney into these four walls."

"Well," he smiles ,"maybe not exactly these walls, perhaps."

Chloe raises one her eyebrows. Tries to pout and look seductive. Except that she doesn't know how to flirt. She's never known how to flirt. But she's also very drunk and angry and horny so enthusiasm has to count for something.

Yet Lucifer... hesitates. Half looks like he's ready to pounce and half is unsure of how to handle the delicate glass ballerina he seems to think she's turned into.

Neither side moves a muscle and an oddly loaded silence builds between them. He is staring, intense and transfixed. Still smiling wide and open.

And still fully dressed. Perfectly kept and put together. Chloe is sure that it's the alcohol talking, but she really wants to mess him up tonight. Tangle her fingers in his hair and leave him ragged after she tears his clothes off and marks his skin with her bites and kisses. Have him stumble out of the room all bow-legged and maybe (just maybe) she'll smack his ass as he goes.

She's feeling wild. That's the word for it. Wild and looking to misbehave.

"Lucifer?" she asks, trying to make the word sound sweet and innocent on her drunken tongue.

"Yes, Detective?" The smile is closed-lipped now. Dark with intensity but still such a gentleman that he's afraid to show her his metaphorical fangs. "What is it that's on your mind?"

"Come here and start touching me." Chloe just goes right out and says it.

Then she flings her coat off. Not caring that it lands in the sink and is probably getting damp. She starts to work on the buttons of her shirt. Unsnapping them at a breakneck pace until a much better idea suddenly comes to mind. Time to put her befuddled and speechless partner to work.

She gestures at her torso. Cups her chest with her hands and watches as Lucifer's eyes widen to an almost anime level of proportions.

"De- Chloe, what are you-"

"Unbutton my shirt and take it off, Lucifer."

And that's an order. She raises her eyebrow again to convey the unspoken part and he stumbles over his syllables for a second before dumbly closing the distance between them.

Now they're almost pressed together. But not quite. Lucifer stares down at her and, for the first time, she can detect the physical signs of his excitement. No, not there. Not yet, at least, but perhaps all things in their time (and maybe taking more than a forbidden nanosecond peak at his pants will one day be acceptable to Chloe). Instead, he's breathing harder than usual. His chest lightly skimming against hers with every inhale. And his pupils are blown wide, creating a matching counterpoint to the subtle sweat along his hairline.

She reaches out, swirling one of the short and ink-dark locks around her index finger. Then she hooks it behind his ear and pulls his head closer. With her sitting on this counter, they're nearly the same height.

"Kiss me."

Another order. Last time she kissed him, and he seems to understand that now it's his turn to put himself out there.

He gives her a peck. A chaste meeting of their lips and nothing more.

She kisses him back. Harder and drunker and sloppier.

He hesitates then returns it. Working his lips against her languidly as he takes over the pace. Slowing it down into something sweet and gentle.

It's nice. It's very nice. She'd forgotten that even the simple act of being kissed could be physically pleasing. And when she pulls away she doesn't go far. Leaning her forehead against his jaw and letting him kiss her temple.

"Detective?" he whispers. Not knowing how to safely proceed. Guess it's up to her to lead him, then.

"I told you to do something, Lucifer. You're not going to ignore that, are you?"

Chloe expects a wisecrack. Instead, he kisses her again. Softly on the lips then pulls back to place a peck on the tip of her nose. She wrinkles it in confusion, frowning at him and trying to read between the lines.

He's unreadable, no doubt intentionally, but still he obligingly starts to undress her. Long, elegant fingers working each button open as he keeps his face close to hers, that damnable grin never leaving far from his face.

When her shirt is open he pulls back just enough for her to shrug it off. It lands with a gentle swoosh into the sink and a brief scowl about the potential germs distracts her until Lucifer's hands tangle in her hair and pull her lips back up to his own.

They stay like that for a long moment. Kissing slowly but with steadily rising passion and wandering hands. She returns the gesture back to him and slides his jacket open and off. Letting it pool somewhere onto the floor and it's not given another thought.

"What now, Detective?" he whispers against her lips.

A noise form outside. The clink of a cart filled with glasses and beverages. Just how long have they been in here, anyhow?

Eh, who cares. Doesn't matter. If someone else needs in, they can just use the toilet on the other side of the aisle.

"Now, Lucifer," she instructs, "now you keep touching me."

His grin is so him. So devilish. And he doesn't need to be told twice.

He scoops her up in his arms, lifting her up and adjusting her position so he can stand between her legs. And he places the first kiss to her neck. As soft and sweet as the ones to her lips and she knows he's both testing the uncharted waters as he is asking her for permission to continue.

She tips her head back, exposing more of her skin readily to him. Then tangles her fingers in his hair and guides his head back down. Her free hand grabs the front of his belt in a declaration of intent.

Words are difficult between them. They're usually not. Normally both of them could talk equally deep or random thoughts to each other for hours if the setting was right. But now Chloe has to bite her lip to hold back her sigh as he starts kissing her neck. Nipping and kissing and sucking like they're a couple of teenagers getting fresh in the backseat of a car.

She giggles as he hits a sensitive spot. Tries to fight it but she knows that he knows.

"Ticklish, Detective? Truly? If I had known that I would have been exploiting this weakness from day one."

Weakness indeed, and he proves it even more by doing it again. Sucking on the delicate skin behind her ear and making her pleasantly itch with his warm breath.

"I would have shot you on day one if you'd even thought about trying that."

"Oh? And what about if I try... this, Detective?"

He cups her right breast. Easily spanning the full size of it with his palm and his thumb traces the lace scalloped shell of the top edge.

She moans. Blood suddenly feeling too warm and the skin of her chest breaking out in goosebumps.

Then she blushes profoundly. Despite the situation they're in (the one she lead them in to herself), it's still somehow so deeply awkward to make a sound like that around him.

"Oh god, Lucifer... just like that. Exactly."

Verbal cues are alright, though. Sort of. And she covers up her rising embarrassment by allowing her free hand to reach around and cup his ass. Bringing their two pelvises nearly together.

He pulls back.

Just half a step and he's still so close he's practically mounting her. And, yes, he does look very uncertain. Maybe he needs to be praised? She had just told him this used to not be okay.

"You talk a lot, Morningstar."

It's true. Rarely has the man shut his mouth for this long before.

He raises an eyebrow to her statement. She grabs his hand and guides it to her covered breast. Lets him decide what to do with the swell of flesh.

Hold it, apparently. Cup it in his hand but do nothing more than let it be there.

"And yet you seem to have left me at a loss for words, Detective," he says after a moment of extended eye contact that would have been highly uncomfortable if Chloe wasn't so drunk and curious.

"Go on."

Hesitation still. Then he nods, ever so subtly. Rolls his thumb where her nipple slightly dents out the padded fabric. She wishes he would touch her bare skin, but somehow that's just too much to ask right now.

"Can your mouth do anything else, or is this all that it's good for?" She whispers it as quietly as the constant hum of engines and activity around them will allow to still be audible.

Can your mouth do anything but tease me? That's the real question that's on Chloe's mind, but she's still too shy to speak it out loud.

The way he stares at her as he takes in her question is so positively sinful. She can feel the reaction it triggers in her body. Blood starting to pound and settle into places far lower than her head.

Then he falls to his knees and starts to take off her shoes.

Somehow this beautiful man prostrating before her is almost enough to make Chloe forget her inhibitions. Almost. Thanks to Trixie's recent obsession with the nerdy footwear, she's wearing her Chuck Taylors and she just can't stop the decidedly unsexy thought about if her feet smell or not.

One shoe off, then the other. Lucifer peppers her ankles with kisses and it's more sweetly reassuring than erotic. Guess she can't be too funky, if he's willing to worship her like that.

"I'd like to show you my specialty, Detective."

He purrs it. So low and silken that she feels her inner muscles clench at the decadent sound.

"And what is that, Lucifer?"

"I'm afraid I have to undress you first. But I can guarantee you'll enjoy it."

She blinks twice. It takes her a few seconds.

Oh.

Oh.

It's been a long time since anyone has, er, "gone south". Dan, actually, and he definitely knew his away around that part of her, as reluctant as she is to admit to it.

But he's also the very, singularly last thing that she wants to think about right now. Not when she's thoroughly horny, well above the legal limit, and about to make a choice that will not only haunt her but forever alter their equilibrium.

So many valid concerns. And yet "take off my pants and get to work," is what comes out instead.

Yeah, who says you can't be a mom and still be a Bad Girl. Whatever that is. But HD or not, Chloe is feeling quite reckless at the moment.

And no one ever has to know. That's the whole key to this sordid mile-high bathroom boink: no one else ever, ever will know.

He does what she tells him to. Unbuttoning her jeans and easing down the zipper so gracefully that she doesn't even notice until he's tugging them down and her ass is getting in the way of his progress. She puts both hands on either side of the sink, reluctantly letting go of his soft hair, and lifts her butt up.

Exactly like with her shoes, he shimmies her pants own and off before she can blink. Then it's just her and her panties.

Thank god that they her bra match, right? How could she have a naughty Mile High fling in mismatched undergarments?

She unhooks at the back and slides the straps down her shoulders as his thumb traces the top edge of her panties. Black lace, polka dot, and scalloped. Matching, and she tries so desperately to ignore how her lower stomach flutters in nervous anticipation at his touch.

Chloe lets her bra cling to her skin. It's only held on by the straps that are around her elbows, but somehow she doesn't want to be fully naked. Not when he's fully clothed (discarded jacket notwithstanding), and he's gently easing the little scrap of fabric down her hips centimeter by centimeter.

When they're pooled on the floor and she's exposed to him her legs press shut. Forming a single line of barricade preventing him from seeing that part of her.

This has suddenly gotten very, very real. And she's suddenly feeling very, very exposed. And far too sober.

"Detective," he croons, sensing or seeing her inner turmoil and he runs his warm hands up and down her hips. "I promise I'm very good at this."

Because he's had so much experience, right? Been there, done that. Business as usual in Lucifer's land. And then here she is, the nerdy cop who once did Hot Tub High to rebel and prove something to someone, and she can't remember what either part was as he tries to gently nudge her legs apart.

He's on his knees in front of her, for godssakes. Chloe… live a little.

So she opens up (or technically allows him to open up). Regardless of the lump in her throat and how terrified she is right then. Determination. That's it. Determination to see this out and ease the ever-growing throb between her thighs.

Lucifer blows on her skin. She didn't realize how wet she was until he did that. It makes her shiver and squirm around. Wriggling against the edge of the sink and (obscenely and purely accidentally) making her more available to him.

He sinks forward, then, and starts taking care of her. Without warning or preamble.

For that, she is very grateful. Appreciative of the way that he wraps his lips around her most sensitive parts. Finds her clit without needing a single hint of guidance.

Oh, good boy. Just like that.

He laps at her, working her until she's biting her own palm to keep from moaning.

She wants him to add a finger or two into the mix. But then she also doesn't want him to touch her. An odd mix of conflicting emotions.

The inner tension helps, in an odd way. Makes her muscle draw taut as he pushes her thighs apart even wider. Draws her legs over his shoulders and grabs her ass, pulling her forward and half off the countertop under her. It gives him more room to work and she meets his eyes for exactly one half of one second before she can't stand it and has to look away. So she squeezes her eyes shut tightly. Tries to forget herself. She's getting eaten out by a stranger. That's what she has to tell herself is really happening.

There go the fingers. Whether Lucifer could sense her thoughts trying to jump ship and leave him for some generic fantasy guy or maybe he just felt like giving his tongue a little support.

He eases a single digit into her and she allows a muffled moan. Trying to hold back her guttural noises and practically smothering herself against her own palm. It's an awkward angle for them both. He has to contend with so much tension in her position and her legs and in her. And she has a metal faucet digging into the small of her back and random pestering thought about germs and bacteria that keep fighting for attention in her mind.

Then a second finger slides inside and oh if that doesn't make it easier to forget all the discomforts of the tiny room. She can feel his tongue do such lovely things on her clit. Sucking and swirling and playing with the little pulsating pearl until she squeals.

A shiver of pure pleasure runs up and down her spine and, at that moment, Chloe would thank every last woman he's ever done this to before.

He pushes into her more, not able to go too deeply with how her lower body in contorted. Which is a good thing, since her eyes are still closed and otherwise she'd have to look at him to tell him to take it easy on her (yeah, it's been a while).

And, when he crooks them against her, he finds exactly the right spot. That little space against her top wall that has her giving up the fight and throwing her head back. Not caring that she hits it against the bathroom mirror, and not caring that the hand covering her mouth sinks into Lucifer's hair and now anyone who's listening can hear her pant and moan her approval.

Eyes still closed, though. Otherwise it's too real and not just a really amazing, vivid fantasy.

He keeps pressing and rubbling and licking. She thinks he might be throwing some humming in there as well, but really, who's keeping track? Not Chloe, certainly. Not as she can feel a very sharp orgasm start to build.

Oh God, Lucifer!

She doesn't know if she said that out loud or just left it stuck in her head. He wraps his lips around her and gently sucks. Using his tongue to push against her most sensitive little nub and draw shapes as her hips buck up to meet the movement.

Chloe's nails claw into his hair as he pushes a third finger inside her. It stretches and burns a just a bit as her muscles grip it tightly. Right now, at this very moment, she'd rather be getting fucked. As flawlessly perfect as his lingual gymnastics are, having him inside her would be even better.

Oh, now that's raunchy. Never, ever going to say that aloud, but that doesn't make the idea any less appealing.

Chloe imagines it just like that. How it would feel to have Lucifer fuck her instead of eating her out. How he would feel pushing so much deeper than his fingers could reach. The pressure she'd experience as she takes every inch of him. Lets him sink himself in to the hilt than grip him as he pulls out and begins to thrust.

It's such a wonderfully dirty thought that it sends her over. Brings her to orgasm right there in the airplane bathroom and against his face.

Somehow she manage to do it pretty quietly. Biting down on her own hand to stifle the loudest of her moans and trusting the engine noise to hide the rest.

She clamps and spasms against his fingers, relieved that he gradually eases up. Carrying her gently through it but never prolonging it too much to the point of oversensitivity.

When he pulls away, she collapses against the sink and stares at the ceiling. Still panting and now sweaty and thoroughly disheveled.

"Detective?" he whispers, rising up and straightening his shirt which had become just the tiniest bit askew from having her legs over it.

Chloe… can't look at him. But she forces an awkward smile. Hugs him back as he embraces her and rubs his forehead against the crook between her neck and shoulder.

He's hard against her. She can feel him pressing against her hip, even though he does nothing more than hold her.

She should reciprocate, right? It's his turn and she should… oh crap. What should she do? Selfish as it is, she's kind of done with her part of this encounter and the idea of fucking now has lost the orgasmic appeal it had a few moments ago. Still, though…

"Lucifer?" her voice sound weird to her ears. "Should I... Um, do you want me to-"

He laughs. It tickles her sweaty skin.

"No need, Detective. Though perhaps the next time."

Next time? Oh...kay. She'll process that later.

For now, it's enough to try and not collapse on her shaky legs as he steps aside and she hops off the edge of the sink. Blood flow still all akimbo and he steadies her as she hurriedly grabs her panties and slides them back on.

"Are you-"

"I'm fine, Lucifer."

Maybe her tone was too sharp. He hesitates with helping her get dressed again. So she looks up at him and smiles.

"Lucifer… it was… thank you."

So polite. But when she kisses him he seems to understand what she can't figure out how to say.

"Next time," she tries again.

He nods. Fiddling with the finer details of her clothes and hair. Her reflection doesn't look that much like someone who's just had a high altitude orgasm, at least. Hopefully everyone will just think that the flush on her cheeks is from all the champagne and not the rush of endorphins.


Chloe left the bathroom first.

Lucifer had stayed to keep up the pretense of them not being seen leaving together. Maybe he also needed to collect himself, or… next time, okay? Next time she'll make it up to him (somehow).

And he's absolutely immaculate as always when he comes back. There's a slight air of uncertainty around him as he sits down, but it fades as he happily accepts the glass of champagne she had poured for him.

They toast. This time it's to a lovely flight together. No mention of the future or the recent past, until Chloe finally remembers there was something she needed to know.

"What are you doing here, anyhow? How did you even find out about this mission?"

Lucifer draws his eyes away from the bewildering spectacle of 'Tropic Thunder'. It was one of Trixie's favorite movies and he'd insisted on watching it on his private screen despite Chloe's warning that the film was… well, it was what it was. One of those sorts of things.

"You mean your 'undercover assignment'? It was quite easy, actually. I simply put the pieces together and then explained why I would be the perfect partner for you."

She frowns. Takes another sip of her champagne (which is starting to taste rather bitter and lifeless after so many hours of free drinking it) and dims the brightness setting on her screen to something less irritating to her sleepy eyes. Getting caught up on 'Deadliest Catch' will have to wait for later.

Then she slowly starts to decipher his meaning.

"So… what you're saying is… that… you're here officially? You didn't just decide to tag along at the last minute?"

"And risk missing our honeymoon? Heaven forbid, Detective. Heaven forbid."

No mention of the H-word is ever less than fully-loaded around Lucifer.

"You mean that-"

"Yes."

"You're actually my..." she can't say the words. Not after what just happened.

"Your fake husband? Of course I am. You should have suspected none less from me. And I do believe we have the whole plane convinced, at least judging by the number of 'high-fives' I was offered on my way back after our tryst."

Chloe winces. She'd kept her eyes glued to the floor went she'd slunk out of the bathroom. Go figure freakin' Lucifer would be parading on his way back.

"What about..." she takes another deep drink, starting to feel almost immune to the effects by now. "What about Dan? He already left. So when we get there, he's just-"

"Our porter, yes."

"You didn't."

"Of course I did. It's all part of the disguise, darling. I wouldn't be seen dead carrying my own luggage while on honeymoon."

She doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. Poor Dan.

"That's… so mean. Lucifer, you really shouldn't have."

He shrugs. Clinking his glass to hers even if she hadn't offered it.

"You're going to have to be the one to tell him, Lucifer. When he left yesterday, he didn't know about… his change of assignment. So you're going to have to be the one to beak it to him."

Please? She feels so bad for her Ex, douche that he often may be.

"It will be my absolute pleasure, my darling."

Darling? Eek. But she guesses he couldn't very well call her Detective anymore.

Her eyes follow Lucifer's to where he's staring at the flight path on the central monitor. They still have nearly seven more hours before they land.

The wicked grin he sends her way as he catches her hand and holds it in his own tells her exactly where his head is going to be at for the remainder of the time. She had promised him a 'next time' after all but-

With perfect timing, the fasten seatbelt light comes on and the captain makes an announcement about an unexpected headwind. Lucifer pouts a little and kisses her knuckles.

They both pretend to go back to their own shows, but she has the complete feeling he's planning on missing the ending to his movie the second the warning light goes back off.

And oh, if the words 'turbulence ahead' weren't just the perfect metaphor for their relationship then and now, Chloe doesn't know what is.