A/N: Hello, all! I hope this wasn't too long of a wait! I do try to work on it when I can! I hope you like this chapter. I had a lot of fun writing it, and we pick up right where we left off in the last one. Un-beta'd, of course. Let's see the shenanigans that go on here... Enjoy!
When Chloe got home that night, she texted Tammy to check on Trixie. She was informed that both girls were watching movies and eating popcorn, and she didn't need to worry. Happy to feel just some relief, she kicked off her heels and unzipped the side of her dress. By the time she made it to the second floor her dress was thrown to the ground, along with her underwear and bra. She turned the shower on, steam filling the small room as she stepped in and just let the scalding water cascade over her body. The discomfort was almost enough to keep her thoughts away from him, but he still flooded into her vision whenever she closed her eyes.
She cursed herself whenever she remembered the hurt in his eyes, the pure confusion of having no idea how he had messed up so badly. Then, stupidly, she had called it a mistake. She couldn't have imagined him to look even more torn, but he managed to do it when she had said those words. He had looked so young and fragile at that moment, and she had been the one to do that to him. Of course, she wasn't technically wrong. It was a mistake for them to share a kiss, but she didn't feel regretful of it at all. In fact, she had wanted it, wanted more. She had kissed him back, and that had surprised her. Nothing had felt wrong about their lips connecting, the only thing that felt wrong was the sensation of her attacker taking over Lucifer's form.
She secretly thanked her traumatic flashbacks for coming, because she wasn't sure what would have happened if they hadn't. Her haunting memories had saved her, this time, but they caused another's pain. Another regret crashed through her as water continued to sting her skin. She didn't even explain. She let him think that he had done something wrong, that he had fucked up, and then she had walked out. He didn't deserve that, she knew it. He had given her plenty of time to stop what he was doing, and she had even reciprocated. Let him turn their bodies so he could put her on the wall. She had tasted his lips and instantly caved, and that frightened her.
She owed him an apology, at least, she thought as she dried herself off. She wrapped the towel around her body and quickly walked downstairs to get her phone from where she left it on the table by the door. She pulled up his number as she walked back to her room, carefully sitting on her bed as she listened to the line ring. No answer, but when the choice to leave a voicemail popped up she chickened out. She hung up the moment she heard the beep, throwing her phone as if being near it would leave him a message. She groaned at how ridiculous she was being. She was a grown ass woman, goddamnit, she was plenty of years past the phase of being afraid of talking to a guy. But he was different.
Once she had put on some pajamas, she went downstairs and grabbed some aspirin and water, already preparing herself for a headache she might have from the few strong drinks Maze had poured her. She climbed into her bed, although she knew sleep was a joke at this point. So she stayed, tossing and turning, for hours. She would go between bouts of guilt and arousal as easily as turning on and off a light switch. One second she would be feeling horrible for allowing herself to get caught up in the moment, the next she would be sighing as she remembered the way his hands felt on her body. She remembered how his large, warm hands squeezed her waist, how his tall frame felt pressing her up against the wall, lightly and securely. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to shake the memories from her mind of wanting it, wanting him to do more.
When it was evident that she was not going to be blessed with sleep, she threw the covers to the side and got out of the bed. Her eyes ached from trying to keep them closed for hours, hoping to convince her mind to slip into unconsciousness. She pulled on a pair of shorts and grabbed a sweatshirt to throw on over her top. If she couldn't manage to leave him a message, she would just have to be a big girl and go see him. She knew it probably wasn't a great idea, that it was, yet again, pushing the boundaries of appropriateness, but it needed to happen. She had fucked up, and she needed to make it right, before they could continue to work together, or be student-teacher. She had no idea when he got off of work, and wasn't sure if he already was off, but she remembered how to get to his apartment building. The plan was simple. Wait for him, or call him down, and talk, explain herself, then go home. Simple. Simple was good. She put her phone in her bag, slipping it over her shoulder before grabbing her keys and sliding on her flip flops. She got in her car under guise of the dark and drove towards her mission, where she would either be successful or fall into a trap. Deep down, she wished for the trap.
As he had assumed, Maze was not happy with him. She did, in fact, throw a full box of cocktail napkins at him upon his arrival. Without a word, she stormed away from him, leaving him to go back to his place at the piano and play for the remainder of his shift. If people had talked to him, he had ignored them, instead just focused on making it through the rest of the night. The couple of Vicodin he had popped on his way in taking their desired effect of reducing his surroundings into barely-there ambiance. The hours went by like nothing at that point, and 0300 came around sooner than he had expected. Saying nothing, he got up and left, letting Maze shoot daggers with her deep brown eyes as he walked past her.
The drive to his apartment had been relatively quiet. The only noises he heard were the quick whirs of other cars and the wind. He had wished for more noise, to drown out his memories of the way Chloe had gasped against his lips, or the way her delicate hands felt pressed to his chest. Apparently, fucking the other professor had been a short-lived reprieve; he could feel himself hardening in his pants at his thoughts, even with Vicodin in his system.
It had been disheartening to see that there were no open spots directly in front of his building. He had to park a few spaces down, but it wasn't too concerning. The short walk allowed him to study the figure he saw sitting on the steps close to the door. It was a woman, her arms crossed over her stomach and her legs obviously shaking. As he got closer, her couldn't help but have a sense of familiarity about her. When the woman looked up and noticed him, she immediately stood, looking nervous and conflicted, and that's when he recognized her. He stopped in his tracks, taking a second to clear his mind to make sure she was actually standing there and he wasn't fabricating her in his mind.
"Hi," she greeted softly, a small, fake smile on her lips as she abruptly stood when she noticed him. He watched her tanned legs straighten, roaming up her body to where the sweatshirt covered her frame.
"Hello, Professor," he responded, tilting his head up in confusion. "I would have thought it to be a little late for a visit from you," he admitted, watching as she took one step down closer to him. He took a few steps up, staying low enough to remain at eye level with her. She worried her lip between her teeth and he fought the urge to reach out and pull the soft skin out from her bite.
"I couldn't sleep," she stated wearily, giving him a sad shrug before averting her gaze to the hem of her sweatshirt. "I couldn't stop thinking about-" she started, cutting off when she looked up and saw a flash of hurt on his face. "Can we talk? Please?" she asked finally, pressing her lips together to help maintain her composure. She could tell he had been drinking, he looked tired, ruffled, and his eyes were starting to turn pink around the edges. It saddened her to know that she was, most likely, the cause for his appearance.
"You want to talk?" he questioned, his tone flat and body unmoving. He waited for her to nod before striding up the steps past her. He opened the door, standing by it and staring directly at her. "Come on."
"Can't we talk out here?" She bit her lip in worry, looking around her to make sure they were still alone.
"You're cold," he stated, pointing towards her with his free hand. He sighed heavily, looking into his building as if he wanted to just walk in and forget their conversation. "Besides, wouldn't want anyone to see you outside of my building at this hour, would we." He had a point, she knew that, but she wasn't nervous about being with him, she was worried that she wouldn't control herself. Rationality one, and she felt her body stepping forward through the door he held open. She let him lead the way towards the elevator, where they waited in silence until the ping, startling her, signaled its arrival.
She entered the small box quickly, shoving herself into a back corner and watched him enter leisurely. He observed her for a second before pressing the button for his floor. The ride was over before she realized it would be, and she followed him out into the hallway in silence. He turned to make sure she was still behind him before he approached a door, pulling his keys out of his pocket and unlocking it. He pushed the door open, looking at her expectantly as he waited for her to walk through. He watched her hesitate, her mouth opening to say something before she closed it. "I won't bite unless you ask you me," he assured her sardonically. The way his jaw moved and his tongue ran along his lip, just barely visible, made her stomach stir with want, but she quickly shoved it aside and walked into his apartment.
Her saw her very subtle reaction, and he couldn't help but feel a small amount of pride at that. He walked into his apartment right behind her, closing the door, but not locking it. Giving her an easy to way out, if she needed it. Chloe stood to the side, staying close to the door, while Lucifer walked directly into the kitchen to grab two glasses and pour drinks. He downed one glass, glanced in her direction, refilled the cup, and handed her the second drink. She took it from him but did not take a sip, instead was just thankful to have something to hold on to.
"I have to say, Professor, I do like you in shorts," he quipped, walking out of the kitchen, making a point to eye her bare legs before moving to lean against the wall adjacent to the door.
She knew he was trying to get into her head. He was upset, hurt, and possibly angry; of course he was going to try and derail her. "Lucifer, I feel like I owe you an explanation."
He laughed at that, nearly choking on his whiskey before regaining his serious manner. "You don't owe me anything," he spat out, almost as if her statement were ridiculous. "Besides, you saying it was a mistake and running out of the room was all the explanation I need." His last sentence stung, forcing her to wince. He noticed, and he didn't like the way that made him feel bad for saying it.
"It all came out wrong," she explained quickly, not wanting to give him time to counter her words. "It has nothing to do with you. It's my fault, I shouldn't have let us get into a situation where that could happen." She braved looking up in his direction and she watched as he pushed off the wall and slowly stalked towards her. She felt him stop behind her, body heat radiating against her chilled back, breath tickling the hair at the top of her head. His free hand hovered over upper arm, so very close but not touching, moving down towards her hip. When his hand was inches away from her thigh, he let his fingertips brush along the hem of her shorts before pulling them away. He bend his head down to breath in the scent of the skin around her neck, detecting traces of her soap and shampoo.
"You know, when you kissed me back and made that small, wonderful noise, it didn't really seem like you thought it was a mistake." He let his nose barely run along her ear before he pulled away from her completely, walking back into the kitchen. He was being cruel, he knew she picked up on it, but he just couldn't stop himself.
"It was a mistake because it's against the rules," she explained, sighing in exacerbation. She hadn't realized it would be this difficult to try and talk to him. He questioned everything, making her doubt her own beliefs, making her want to throw caution to the wind.
"But it's not just the bloody rules, now is it?" he muttered, sloshing the amber liquid in his glass before downing the contents. He licked his lips and looked towards her, reigning in his feelings and drowning them with another glass.
"I mean, that's a big reason," she started, nervousness beginning to build. She didn't like where he was trying to take the conversation, having already brought up her sudden fear moments before.
He sighed again, setting his empty glass down on the counter harder than he had intended. "No, the 'big reason' was that you were afraid. Of what, hm? Of me? Did you think I would try to force you into something you didn't want to do?" he questioned, statement after statement coming out in the heat of the moment. He took a calming breath before pouring another drink with shaky hands.
Chloe shut her eyes for a moment, unsure of where to begin or how to explain it to him in a way that made sense. "No, Lucifer, it had nothing to do with you." She watched as he stared at her blankly, nodding before scoffing in her direction. He placed his hands on the counter in front of him, leaning into his arms and bowing his head. She could see the tension in him, long body of tight cord, ready to break with the quick tug of the line.
"Professor, trust me, I can recognize fear when people look at me with it in their eyes, and you were absolutely petrified by me touching you." He didn't turn to look at her as he spoke, choosing to remain in his position at the counter, staring out into his living room.
"I wasn't scared of you," she responded quietly, hands gripping her untouched drink for support. She gazed into the liquid, a calming pool of topaz and liquid fire.
He turned his head to look at her, stunned, a short chuckle erupted from his chest before he spoke. "Was there a ghost behind me or something, because I'm pretty sure I was the only other person there?" His sarcasm was thick as he turned away from her. He couldn't bear to watch as she stood there, struggling through half-truths, looking small and fragile.
"Lucifer, please, what else do you want to hear?" she pleaded, rubbing her eyes and highly considering drinking the whiskey he had given her.
"How about the truth?" he suggested, turning to walk towards her. He quickly got into her space, walking them back until she was standing with her back against the door. He stood at his full height, not trying to lower himself, not trying to appear smaller, hoping he could prove something to her. "If you weren't so afraid of me, then what was it?" He spoke quietly but firmly, breathing hard as he glared down at her, closing in around her space, expecting fear, but getting anger in return.
She inhaled sharply, the words falling past her lips before she could connive her mind against it. "I was raped, okay!" she yelled, clenching her jaw while starting directly up at him. "That attack you heard about on the news? Well, he didn't just kick the shit out of me, he raped me, and no one else knew about it, until now." She could feel tears beginning to sting her eyes, so she pushed him out of the way and walked further into his apartment. He let her move him, his back hitting the door behind him as he stood, frozen.
"Why didn't you tell anyone?" His question was quiet and concerned. He wasn't sure why he had asked her that, but it was the only sentence his brain could form at that time. His mind was racing with all of the things he regretted doing with this new information. Things made sense now, and he felt horrible because of it.
She took a shaky breath, wiping her eyes quickly before she turned to face him, her arms crossed protectively over her chest. "I didn't want anyone to look at me the way you're looking at me now: with pity and disgust." With the last word out, a small sob rocked through her chest, and she quickly turned back around in shame. She really didn't want to cry in front of him. She played with the glass in her hands before tossing it back drinking it down in one gulp. The burn gave her something to focus on, so she decided to help herself to more.
He watched her pour herself another much-deserved drink. He wished he knew what to say, but he didn't even know how to explain his own feelings, let alone help someone else out with them. The only thing he knew about was finding physical comfort, but he wasn't sure if she needed that, or wanted it. Still unsure of the words to use, he pushed himself away from the door and slowly walked to her. She was standing with her hands on the counter, looking down into her refilled glass, considering if she just needed the entire bottle or not. When he was close enough, he reached out and grasped her arm, just below the shoulder. She tensed, but she did not pull away, and he took that as an invitation to continue. His other hand did the same, and he squeezed slightly to let her know he was there, and he heard her. He pressed himself against her, just barely, enough to feel contact but not add pressure.
She did not try to run, but she did not react, so after a few moments, we went to move, but one of her hands shot up from the counter and landed on his, keeping him in place. She wasn't sure why she found his touch so reassuring at this moment, but she did. She didn't want to question it, didn't want to feel bad for letting it feel good. She just wanted to stay in that moment, and let the heat from him warm her chilled bones and icy heart. With more confidence, he slowly wrapped his arms around her so his hands held on to her sides. She bent her forearms over his, her fingers clinging to wrists as she breathed and fell into his embrace. He lowered his head down so that his lips were next to her ear and the scent of milk and honey filled his nose.
"Professor, everything that has happened to you is not a reflection of who you are, nor is it a reflection of how other's see you," he stated softly into her ear, his lips just brushing the shell as he spoke. She felt a shiver run down that side of her body, a tingling sensation that made her gasp slightly. "I've seen things, I've done things, those same things have been done to me, but none of that defines me. I am not what I've done or what others have done. The same applies to you."
She took a moment to reflect on his words. He was very vague about his end, but she knew where he was coming from. She could appreciate that he could understand her experiences, yet, believed that those experiences, and how they changed her, did not make her into that. From the way he effortlessly fought, how anger could swell inside him at dangerous speeds, and the scars on his back, she knew he had not led a simple life. She knew nothing of what had happened to him, or even who he was before she met him, but she knew that those things were not who he was.
"So no, I don't look at you with pity, and definitely not with disgust, because of what you've gone through" he assured her when she had remained silent. "Who I see is a strong, unfairly beautiful woman, who is kind, despite the things she's been through. I see someone who is special, and, tragically, doesn't even know it." His arms tightened around her slightly, almost as if he were trying to hug the words into her. It was charming and adorable in every possible way.
Chloe closed her eyes, a warm smile turning the corners of her lips as she leaned back into him. It was the nicest thing anyone had ever said to her, at least in the last few years. He always appeared so guarded, the rough callousness of his nature barely hidden by his poised appearance. How could someone like that say things the way he did? Surely it had to be the accent. Right? She felt safe, comforted, and warm in his arms, and allowed herself to accept those feelings and take them as they were. She turned her head, and he followed her lead, loosening his arms enough for her to turn around and face him.
He had to take a half-step back to be able to see her face, and he was so glad that he had pulled away from her. She was looking up at him through he lashes, a determined look in her eye, and her bottom lip was barely clinging between her teeth. His lips parted on their own accord, and he watched her stretch onto her tip toes and slowly press her lips against his. He felt her tongue run along his bottom lip before sliding into his mouth and gliding over his own. She sighed into his mouth as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down for better access. He gave it to her, he'd give anything to her at that point.
His hands went to her hips, squeezing the skin and bone there, slowly making his way under the hem of her sweatshirt and top. He groaned at the feel of her hot, smooth skin as she rolled her hips into his hands. He kissed her passionately, forgetting the softness of which she had started it. She made no complaint nor tried to run, she opened her mouth to him and toyed with the short hairs on the back of his neck. He was instantly, and totally, erect and dizzy from the sudden blood-rush south. Or was he dizzy from Chloe's lips sucking his tongue? She was the one intensifying the kiss, her lips more frantic and her hands rubbing the tops of his shoulders, going in past his collar to scratch his upper back.
The groan that escaped from his chest into her mouth made heat pool from her center, and she wanted nothing more than to get him to make that noise again. She held on to his lower lip with her teeth, scratching from between his shoulders up to his neck. She felt the shudder that ran down his body, and she tried to hide the smile it gave her. He hummed his approval against her jaw, lifting her up by her hips and setting her down on the counter behind her. She gasped in surprise, meeting his gaze for a brief second before his lips were back on her jaw, making their way down her neck. He nestled himself between her legs, sliding into the space she created perfectly. His lips felt so good on her neck, traveling all over her sensitive skin, teeth tugging at the collar of her sweatshirt.
Both of her hands found their way into his hair, and she used her grip as leverage to press his face harder against her neck. She was getting chills while feeling overheated all at the same time. The things his mouth could do to her neck made her groan when considering what it could do to other places on her body. She felt his hands touch the tops of her knees next to his hips, and he slowly slid them up the length of her thighs until his fingers just barely went under the hem of her shorts. His fingers inched higher and higher all while his tongue was tracing patterns along the front of her throat. Needing more, she yanked his head up, crashing her lips to his just as the tips of his fingers touched the line of her thong along the front of her hips. There was a brief pause before she wrapped her legs around his lower back and pulled him closer, and when they connected, she felt his hard length press into her wet folds, and even through their clothes she felt the coiling deep inside her begin to hum in need.
They inhaled shared air sharply, their lips opening and brushing against one another's as they realized what had happened. He wanted nothing more, in that moment, than to take her right there on his kitchen counter, to shove aside the thin fabric covering her from him and slide himself into her wet haven. He almost went for it, his hands beginning to move more towards her mid-line, and then he remembered the other pair of lips he had been kissing hours before. No matter how badly he wanted this, he wouldn't let her have his second helpings. She deserved so much better than that. He respected her way more than that. Reluctantly, he pulled away, sighing in frustration at himself. He gripped the tops of her thighs, squeezing her flesh before stepping back to look at her. She had the sweetest shy smile on her lips, but she didn't seem disappointed that he had stopped. In fact, she looked grateful, as if she wouldn't have been able to stop it herself.
He chuckled to himself, looking up at his ceiling just to convince himself to move out from between her inviting thighs. "Would you like some coffee?" he asked, daring to take a look at her again. She raised her eyebrow and started to look around, he watched her look at a window, the dark blue of the very-early morning sky peeking out behind the curtain. When she nodded, he forced himself to push back from the counter and turn around, already missing the heat to his front. He opened the cabinet above his coffee pot and grabbed the necessary supplies and started scooping grounds into a filter. He heard Chloe slide off of the counter, but didn't hear her walk anywhere. He was relieved when she didn't immediately run for the door.
"I thought you were supposed to prefer tea," Chloe teased, scrunching her nose at him when he turned to look at her from over his shoulder. He fiddled around with the coffee pot for a moment longer before turning to face her completely.
"Professor, how dare you appropriate a cultural stereotype onto me," he scoffed in mock offense. "Tea is for later," he added, unable to hold in a chuckle. He looked over to see her giggling, and it had to be the cutest thing he'd seen in a while. He wished the moment didn't have to end. They were not student and teacher, professor and TA. They were just Lucifer and Chloe, and he really liked this dynamic. They stood in comfortable silence, just listening to the coffee percolate and the aroma stimulate their senses. She looked around her, checking out her surroundings like she hadn't really seen anything before now.
He watched her stare at the small table with two chairs on the opposite side of the kitchen. His little breakfast nook, where he rarely sat unless he needed to feed one or more guests. He cleared his throat to get her attention, and when she shot her gaze towards him, he gestured his hand in the direction of the table. Graciously, she smiled and made her way over there. He was, once again, graced with watching her shorts-clad ass and bare thighs walk away.
"How do you like it?" he asked, innocently enough, but there was an edge of something in his tone. She looked at him with wide, surprised eyes, her mouth opening to answer before she closed it again, biting her tongue. "Your coffee. How do you like your coffee?" he reiterated, giving her a devious smile before pressing his lips together to hold off laughter. He pulled two mugs out of the cabinet above the coffee pot and started walking over towards his fridge.
She didn't even try to stop the blush that was creeping up from her neck to her cheeks. He knew exactly how it sounded, and he knew exactly what she had been thinking. "Cream and sugar," she replied, narrowing her eyes at him as he went to the fridge as if nothing had happened. She took a seat at the small table and watched as he took out a carton of half & half. When Chloe looked at the table, she noticed the small bowl of sugar cubes, and smiled. That was English, indeed. As any man would, instead of taking multiple trips, he decided to carry both mugs of coffee, the half & half, as well as a spoon precariously placed between two fingers.
He sat one mug down in front of her, as well as the spoon and creamer. He sat back with his own cup of goodness in his hands, watching as she added a heavy helping of cream and two cubes of sugar. Even though she looked at ease, he could see there was worry in the corners of her eyes, and the way she kept chewing on her bottom lip. She couldn't seem to make eye contact with him, and he knew, then, that it had to have something to do with their more recent kiss.
"You don't have to worry, Professor. I'm not going to tackle you in the hallways or anything," he jested, looking at her over the rim of his mug. "I don't expect that."
"What do you expect?" she asked quietly, finally looking into his dark-brown eyes. He appeared genuinely confused to her question, as if asking about his wants shouldn't even be in her mind.
"Well, nothing," he replied truthfully. He really didn't expect anything from her. Did he want something from her, with her? Yes, absolutely. Expecting those things was another question, and one he didn't feel comfortable considering. "So you can stop worrying. Nothing has to change."
She took a large sip of her coffee, mulling over his words in her head. Could he, so easily, pretend as if nothing had happened between them? Was she reading too much into what had happened at the club, and what had just happened on his kitchen counter? Should that thought even upset her; the one that knew nothing should have happened in the first place? "Is that what you want? For nothing to change?" She didn't mean for her question to come out as accusatory or as sad as it did.
He smiled, lowering his face to look at her through his lashes while he took another sip of coffee. "I didn't say that," he insisted, raising an eyebrow at her. "All I mean is that it wouldn't stop me from enjoying your company, as your student and as your TA." It was true, even if he got no farther with her, he would still enjoy just being around her. He felt like a better man in her presence, even if that was a lie. "Balls' in your court, I do believe, is the correct American expression," he added with a smirk. She was happy he was bringing the wit back into their conversation. It always helped it stay light, regardless of the subject matter.
She laughed at that, a short, delicate laugh that only added to her perfectly feminine demeanor. He said she had the control, but he wanted nothing more than to drink the coffee from her mouth and have his way with her on this little table, on the couch, in his bed, and in his shower. He wanted to make those plump lips fall open for him, just so he could taste them. He pulled himself from his thoughts, needing to adjust his slacks to be more comfortable. He was constantly hard when he thought about her, and it took all of his energy to keep from having an obvious erection in her presence.
They sat and enjoyed their coffee with casual conversation. A lot of it had to do with some of the students in her class that she couldn't believe managed to graduate high school. He was able to fill her in on some of the drama going on in the class, but they brushed over the part of how he knew such privileged information. She was actually enjoying herself, the ease at which they could make small-talk was refreshing, and allowed some of the tension to ooze from her shoulders. It wasn't until she was able to see the sun rising through his curtains did she consider the need to go home.
"I think I should go," she admitted, almost reluctantly. She stared into her empty mug for a few moments before standing and grabbing her bag from the table. Lucifer stood as soon as she did, a slight look of disappointment on his face. "I need to get home before Trixie wakes up and it looks like you need some sleep." He huffed at that, even though he was sure he wasn't looking his best, at the moment. The Vicodin had worn off hours ago, and he felt as if he were dragging something behind him with every movement.
"I'm glad you came over to talk," he said, walking over towards the door. He didn't smile, but she could see the lightness in his features. She nodded her head and walked towards him, debating whether she was going to kiss him again or not. She knew she shouldn't for fear of not being able to stop, so she let her rationale take the lead. She slung her bag onto her shoulder and stood next to him at the door. "You'll let me know when you're in need of my services, again, yes?" he asked, just wanting to make sure that she was still on board with him being her assistant.
Chloe's eyes went wide; although he had told her he wanted to remain in her company, regardless of the physicality of their relationship, she was still surprised by his complete willingness to forget everything and move on. She wasn't even sure if she wanted to forget any of it. "Of course. Probably before class." She couldn't help but smile at the way his eyes lit up; like a child on Christmas. "Get some sleep, okay?" she requested, stepping out into the hall after he had opened the door.
"You, too," he called out softly, watching as she smiled over her shoulder at him while waiting for the elevator. He watched as she waited, unable to stop himself from observing the way she played with the cuffs of her sweatshirt, or how she worried her bottom lip between her teeth. He especially liked to watch her push fallen strands of hair behind her ear, a hint of annoyance on her face with how often she had to do it. They were all things he never noticed about anyone. He had never cared how people liked their coffee, or noticed the way certain topics of conversation lit up their eyes. These warm, comforting feelings hadn't been felt since Eve, but even then, he hadn't felt this controlled by them with her. The Professor held on to his very long leash, and she had no idea.
The moment he closed the door after she disappeared into the elevator, he was tearing his clothes off, unable to bare his undeniable need for release, again. She had left him unimaginably hard the entirety of her stay after that kiss on the kitchen counter. He was so worried that the blood painfully pumping through his member wouldn't make him try to fuck her into next week on top of his tiny breakfast table. He wasn't sure the table would be able to handle that. Although he didn't want to see her leave, her departure permitted him sweet relief from the pressure stretched tight in his loins. With his clothes gone and discarded from the kitchen to his bathroom, he turned on the shower and waited for the water to warm up. He had a date with his hand under that steamy water.
When he stepped in, hot water cascaded down his chest and unto the rest of his front. He imagined that warm feeling as her hands exploring his body; light, delicate fingers tracing every curve and mark until satisfied all was touched. Unlike the other times he had thought about her, when he was alone and wasn't up for company, he had to imagine what she felt like. This time, he knew what her skin felt like under his hands, the way her body tensed and softened under his touch, and the little breathy moans she made against his mouth. His cock bounced in the air just thinking about it, and he couldn't wait any longer.
He dipped his head under the water, imagining her fingers trailing over his scalp and tangling in his short, black locks. Water poured down his face and over his lips, just as her soft, warm lips had brushed over his. He licked his lips, still tasting her on his tongue as he brought a hand up to brace himself against the shower wall, directly next to the showerhead. He closed his eyes, letting the hot water trail over his body as if it were her heated skin gliding against him. His free hand went straight to his aching member, wrapping around it firmly and squeezing. He bit his lip, holding back the small moan that almost escaped. He knew it wouldn't take long to finish, not while thinking about her armed with the knowledge of how she actually felt.
He inhaled sharply when he finally braved to move his hand. After having been hard for so long, he was almost sore to the touch, but it added to the overall sensations he was experiencing. He grit his teeth and found a steady rhythm while he let his imagination kick in. He thought back to their first kiss earlier in the night, before she run off. The first touch of their lips had been gentle and electrifying, and it had gone straight to his cock. He remembered the way her mouth had opened for him, and he was granted entry, the soft sounds she made as his hands held her hips. He moaned, his hand stopping at the head and squeezing. Going beyond memory, he imagined how those soft, plump lips of hers would feel around his cock, how they would suction on to him and wrap him in the hot embrace of her mouth.
His hand slid around his cock in a twisting motion, his grip loosening to the way he would imagine her feminine hands to feel on him, stroking him closer and closer to the edge. He pictured her on her knees in front of him, her perfect tits out and bouncing with every bob of her head. He thought about how he would reach down and squeeze one of her breasts, pinching the nipple and getting her to squeal around his cock. He started to stroke faster and stronger, his breathy moans and groans uncontrollable as he neared release. He bit into his lip thinking of the round curve of her ass pressing against his straining member, or how it would feel to squeeze he cheeks before lifting her up into his arms, her legs wrapping around him. His hand on the shower wall slipped, and that broke his concentration for a second. Even in his imagination she was destroying him.
Lucifer was so caught up in his fantasies that he didn't hear his door opening, the lock being turned by the spare key. Maze walked in, looking around and noticing signs of life. She saw the two coffee mugs and assumed her egotistical friend had brought company over. She could hear the shower running, and saw his clothes strewn around the apartment, but she couldn't see any other set of clothes, male or female. As she rounded the corner to his room, she could hear the shower running, as well as the faint sounds of his heavy breathing and soft moans from behind the curtain. Her eyebrows shot up, realizing what she was walking in on. She decided to enjoy the spectacle, propping herself against the sink and crossing her arms. She guessed she could wait until he was finished.
He could feel his knees weakening and his body shuddering, signaling his imminent release. He was too far gone to try and drag it out any longer, so he quickly thought of what sliding into her wet center would feel like. Undoubtedly tight, dripping wet, and so warm wrapped around his throbbing cock. A few expletives fell out of his mouth in a whisper as he fought to control the movements of his hand and not fall victim to his shuddering body. He thought about the way she would feel cumming on his cock; all hot, gushing, and contracting muscle around him. Her mouth would fall open, maybe she would cry out his name. He hoped she would keep looking at him, staring down into his soul when he came inside her. That thought was all he needed to finally have the release he required. With a final jerk and choked grunt, he came in a torrent. Spurts of thick, white cum hitting the shower walls and sliding down into the water. When he could see again, hand still lightly stroking his softening member, he brushed the hair out of his eyes, taking a deep, relieved breath.
"Wish I could have seen that," Maze stated plainly, her features only lightening when she heard a few of the shower products fall to the ground at the sound of her voice.
"Bloody Hell, Maze!" he yelled, his fist slamming into the wall of the shower, completely startled. "Fuck!" He could feel his body shaking from the slight panic, but knowing the owner of the voice was letting his nerves calm down quickly. He quickly reached out from behind the curtain to grab the towel from the hook and wrap it around his hips before stepping out, hair curling on his forehead. He glared at Maze for a moment, but when she didn't give him more than an impatient look, he walked past her and into his room.
"Who got you all riled up?" she asked, following him out of the bathroom. She watched water droplets fall over his marred back, drying up when they reached the edge of the very low-slung towel. "I was certain you had got it out of your system when you came back to work looking a hot mess, but I guess not."
"Is there something I can do for you, Maze," he asked, turning around to face her with his hands loosely on his hips. He looked stunning all post-orgasm. His skin flush from the hot water, his eyes glassy and his bottom lip swollen from biting it. Maze forced herself to stop looking at him, knowing damn well nothing would come of looking at him anyways.
"I just wanted to check on you, I could tell something was off," she admitted, narrowing her eyes at him. She wasn't sure why he always had to assume she needed something from him. Why couldn't he just believe she was there for him, and not for what he could do?
"Was that before or after you threw a deceptively heavy box of napkins at me?" he accused, walking over to his dresser and opening up a drawer. He grabbed a set of briefs out, dropping the towel and quickly slipped them up his thighs. It was nothing Maze had never seen before, but ever since they stopped sleeping together, she always felt a bittersweet pang in her stomach when she saw him naked.
"Look, I was just angry because you left," she defended, averting her gaze away from him as he walked back towards his bed, sitting on the edge. "I just wanted to see if you were alright."
"Well, from what you witness, what do you make of my current state?" he asked sarcastically, patting the bed next to him. She huffed and rolled her eyes, but went and sat right night to him.
"Healthy as a horse," she expressed, placing her hands on her knees and looking over at him with feigned shyness. He started at her for a second before bursting out in laughter. She joined him and tried not to stop when his arm slung around her shoulders and he pulled her in close.
"I'm sorry I left you to fend off the masses on your own," he whispered, leaning over and kissing her temple chastely. "But I knew you could handle it."
"Yeah, yeah," she sneered, pushing him off of her. She watched as he leaned back, propping himself up on his elbows, completely unashamed of only being covered in his underwear. "Okay, well, I'll get going so you can get some much deserved sleep," she said, winking at him to hint she was talking about his recent energy expulsion.
"Want to stay and have a cuddle?" he asked playfully, holding out his arms towards her. He had a smile on his face, but she knew he was serious. He was a giant teddy bear at times, but she didn't want to be the fill-in for whoever he was just thinking about. She had done that for way too long, and she had just recently forced herself to stop letting him use her for that, even if he wasn't aware of what he was doing.
"Eww, gross, no," she grimaced, standing from the bed and walking out towards the kitchen. "You become disgustingly affectionate after you cum." She could hear him laugh from behind her as she walked out of his apartment, closing and locking the door. She walked back towards her apartment, trying to not let the way he looked get into her head, or how badly she had wanted to stay and let him hold her. She just wouldn't let anyone else lower her self-worth anymore.
A/N: Okay... so what did we think? Are we happy things seem to be moving along with our lovely duo? Anyone else get a little excited about Lucifer's little solo action in the shower? I know I did ;) (I also know of one more that did, too). Anyways, please let me know what you thought. I LIVE to read your comments and reviews! Until next time, dark ones... 3