He opened the door to the apartment and walked in, smelling the distinctive smell she imprinted there. He had not smelled it in thousands of hell years, yet would recognize it anywhere. Chloe. The smell he used to be nose blind to also confirmed his sad status in this household. A visitor.
He had carefully picked a suit for her. An astonishing sand-colored natural fabric he knew would surprise her paired with a crisp light blue shirt and blue tie with pocket square. Something she had never seen him wear before. Something cheery he hoped, less Italian funeral more Italian Riviera. At the kitchen counter, he poured himself a glass of single malt and downed it. Delicious. He was careful to place the telltale glass in the dishwasher right after finishing the second whisky.
During these visits from hell, he had to be careful to hide any signs of his passage. He also hid his wretched lust just as carefully. Away for a mere month for her, it had been the equivalent length of time that separated Cleopatra from Margaret Thatcher for him.
The work of freeing souls in hell was all consuming. Immersing himself in the most disturbing of human experiences trying to redeem the lost was his calling, but he sometimes wished he had never come to realize it. There was no reprieve and, unlike his previous role as jailer and torturer, he had no real help in doing it. The demons were useful errand runners, but he had to direct every investigation, analyze each clue. It was rewarding work, absolutely, but so bloody exhausting. And when he came to Los Angeles, to what still felt like home in a way, he came with an urgent need to escape for a while. Fresh from hell, there was only one thing he ever wanted: sex with Chloe. Melting into her, fusing with her, losing himself.
She would want him to see Rory, to get her fill of watching him with the baby in his arms. He remained uneasy with these transgressions. The last time, he sensed Rory recognized him and took comfort in his presence. It filled his heart with inexplicable joy, that he could be loved so easily. It also terrified him that future Rory could be gone. He had asked Amenadiel to fix things for his family but the newly minted deity was still unsure of his powers and how to manage the law of unexpected consequences well enough to guarantee future Rory would be safe.
She was seven months old now. For him she had been a baby for millennia, almost unchanging. When Chloe sighed about how fast time was flying, he had to bite his tongue. Was it a blessing, to have a forever baby, or was it a curse? He felt guilty about wishing these years away but he was anxious to meet the adult child he loved so deeply and confirm he had in fact kept his promise.
He felt distant and isolated from them now, progressively more like a stranger in his family's home. Like parts of him no longer traveled back with him from hell.
He walked over to Trixie's room and slid the door open slowly so as not to wake her. She looked peaceful, wrapped in way too many blankets for the California heat. There were balled up tissues on the floor of her room, like sad tumbleweeds. His heart broke, watching her. He missed that brave little girl so much. He blew her a quick kiss and shut the door.
He ran up the stairs to Chloe's room two at a time, anxious to forget himself in pleasure. He opened the door to her bedroom and she sat up instantly, conditioned to listen for him and the baby at night. In one bound she was out of bed and in his arms, mouth on his, like she had been the one gone for thousands of years.
He flicked the light switch on and Chloe ran to close the dense black out curtains they had installed to hide even the shadow of him from view. She turned to face him in the light and the beauty of her took his breath away. She wore a simple slip, one strap off her shoulder. Her long light brown hair was sun-kissed and tussled from sleep.
"Hi," she said beaming.
"Hello, Lieutenant," he grinned, emphasizing that last word. He knew she hated it when he called her that.
"Don't. You look so handsome," she exclaimed. "New suit?"
He turned slowly to show it off. "What do you think?"
She nodded her appreciation. "I can't wait to take it off."
Their bodies crashed together again. He was holding his desire in check, concerned it might scare her. But she was clearly just as eager, at risk of tearing the buttons off his vest. She peeled the jacket from his muscular shoulders and started undoing his belt. She still wants me, he thought, feeling some deeply hidden dread leave him. She bit his lower lip playfully and shoved her hand down the front of his trousers, her cool hand wrapping itself around his hardening shaft. A throaty laugh escaped him as he thrust his tongue into her mouth in answer. He picked her up in his arms with plans to urgently get between her legs.
"Lucifer," she sighed, as he laid her on the bed as gently as his blind lust would allow. "Take your shirt off." He stood tall and removed his vest. He then undid the cuffs of his shirt and pulled it over his head. He knew to pause once fully naked so she could look at him. His breath was coming quick, he could feel the excruciating hardness of his cock, but he waited for her signal. She scanned him from head to toe then rested her eyes on his erection, faint lines of intensity showing at the corners of her mouth. She licked her lips. Bollocks, he thought. Does she know how badly she is torturing me?
"Please, I must," he said breathlessly taking a careful step towards the bed.
"Oh yeah? You must what?" Her tone was teasing but he was in no mood for banter.
"Pleasure you. With my mouth. Taste you." He took one more careful step towards her.
"I see." Her tone was matter of fact but she spread her legs willingly under his hungry gaze. Bloody hell, he had to have her now. "I'd like that," she said moving a hand down her body to rest on her stomach. His hand reached for his cock, anticipating her movements. She sat up, leaning back on her left hand, green eyes burning with what he thought was desire for him. "I missed you," she said, letting two fingers circle her clit slowly.
A cry escape from his lips then. He was unable to think, his entire focus on her fingers and how desperately he wanted his lips and tongue to replace them. "Please," he begged, swallowing hard.
"Come here, Lucifer," she said patting herself between her legs and he fell to his knees, burying his head where her hand guided him. He pressed his hands firmly to the back of her thighs and spread them as wide as he could. He brought an almost frantic tongue to bear on her sensitive flesh and finally tasted her.
He tried to be tender but was unable to repress the raw need to possess her. He could tell she, too, was loving it. The sound of her pleasure reached his ears, piercing through the sound of his pounding heart. He still knew her so well like this, had not forgotten how she was sexually. He drove one finger into her wet and warm vagina as his tongue continued to flick over her clit. Her hands pressed against the back of his head as her body tensed with the power of her climax. He then climbed over her body like an agile feline and plunged his erection into her before her orgasm could fully subside. He moaned a deep sound of exquisite pleasure as his cock finally filled and stretched her. Her muscles were still contracting from pleasure and he was unable to move. He loved the feeling of the rhythmic squeezing on his shaft and the wet welcome of her body. His dark eyes were taking in the beauty or her ecstatic expression, trying to make imprints he could recall later.
Vivid memories of Chloe lasted but a few years in hell, too soon moth eaten by time and duty. His brain would fill the sensual blanks as best he could but it was invariably wrong. She was always more beautiful than he remembered, her taste more intoxicating, her body stronger, her skin softer.
Her mouth opened and he wanted to kiss her but needed to hear the sound of her pleasure more. Her eyes opened and dove into his, her expression changing, and he knew what was coming next. Tears rolled out of her eyes and down her cheeks and he kissed each one away. "It's OK, my love," he soothed, "we are together again." He had had so much more time to adjust to their separation. He was beyond the mourning phase now into acceptance, but for Chloe the wound had not scabbed over yet. As he watched her gentle tears turn to sobs, he was no longer able to relate to her pain, and he hated that. He understood her suffering yet could not feel it in the same way. They were no longer living things together.
They were no longer partners.
The intimacy that came from shared experience was mostly gone and their relationship felt like an old-fashioned courtship based on letters that moved slowly across continents with the speed of wind-powered ships. By the time she was feeling something the event had long passed in his life. The only place they could experience intimacy and synchronicity was in sex, when their bodies responded with a welcomed immediacy. When they could touch and feel each other in the moment.
Her sobs beneath him subsided and he wiped the final tears away with his thumb. She smiled then. "I know you find all this crying so sexy," she whispered and he chuckled.
"I do make you wet, don't I?" he said showing off his thumb wet with her tears. She laughed. He smiled to hear such a bright sound coming from her.
"Yes you do," she said in a now suggestive tone. He kissed her then, deeply, his tongue caressing hers. Her hips started moving beneath him, coaxing his cock in and out of her rhythmically. "Come on," she laughed.
"You want it?" he asked coyly and she nodded, teeth dug into her lower lip. "All of it?" He withdrew from her fully then awaiting her response.
"All of it."
"Over and over?"
"Yes."
He started moving slowly inside her, every deep stroke feeling so good, making her cry out.
"Fuck me," she said in a soft, delicate whisper that almost made him come on the spot. She knew he loved hearing her say that word. She spoke it so rarely it sounded almost like a foreign language in her mouth.
This was his favorite part, her on her back, him on top, his cock at home inside her, their eyes locked, aware of nothing else. Her legs wrapped more tightly around him and her eyes were forced shut from the pleasure. Her long lashes rested on her cheeks like fallen fronds, pulpous lips parted. The sounds escaping her could be confused for cries of pain but he knew them meant for moments of most exquisite pleasure. If he continued she would come once more and he was unable to stop. She threw an arm around his neck and pinned him against her, back arched as he continued to drive into her. A long high pitched squeal announced her climax and after a long moment he felt her relax fully under him.
He did not want to change positions but for Chloe, living in telescoped time, variety likely still meant something. All he craved now was the familiar.
He turned her gently unto her stomach, intent on allowing he to just drink the pleasure he gave her. She was tired, he knew. Working, caring for a new baby and raising Trixie was harder than she would let on. He had hired help for her to cook, clean and even stay overnight with Rory on the week-ends so she could rest, but it still asked a lot of her. Especially while she helped Trixie adjust to life without Dan and dealt with her own heartbreak.
She folded her arms and rested her head sideways unto them. He smoothed her long hair down, caressing her for a moment as she cooed. He then spread her legs, kneeled between them and lifted her hips to meet him. He penetrated her deeply once more, lightheaded from the sight of her beautiful ass against him. He swiftly brought a pillow beneath her so she could rest on it and propped a hand on either side of her shoulders. She was moaning softly with each thrust. He leaned forward, kissed the back of her neck, then rested his open mouth on her throat, letting his teeth press slightly into her flesh. His tongue licked the salty sweat from her skin as his cock entered her as deeply as it could. He rested his left forearm above her head and his considerable weight pressed down on her. She screamed in delight and he knew it was from being weighed down by him in this way. Her left hand moved across the bed to entwine their fingers together.
"I don't want you to move," he said breathlessly into her ear. "I want to do all the work." She acquiesced with a short nod before moaning deeply. His right hand grabbed her right wrist, pinning her in the way he knew she liked. His knees spread her thighs wider so he could plunge deeper into her, intent on hearing the sound of ecstasy come from her once more. His pleasure was now increasing, too, and with every stroke came a fight not to ejaculate. Not till he heard those screams, he resolved. He felt his muscles tense with the amazing sensation near impossible to contain. He pecked her neck and she turned her head so he could kiss her savagely, desperate for his tongue to be inside her mouth. Then her cries rang out in his ears and her sex clasped his in spasms. His thrusts were still like an unstoppable drumbeat shaking her body with the power of his need. The instant her cries of pleasure stopped his own began.
His chest pressed down on her back and his head fell next to hers, his body rapidly slackening with released tension like the broken string of a bow. He shifted most of his weight unto his knees and forearms so as not to completely crush her. After a few blissful moments on top of her, he went on all fours. She turned over unto her back beneath him and he let himself fall on her once more.
"I love to feel the weight of you on me," she whispered.
"I know," he said burying his face in her neck. "I love you," he whispered.
"I love you, too." Did she love him as she did before, he wondered? After all the pain he had caused her, could she feel the same way she had in those carefree days when he thought he would be God? He looked down at her then, dark eyes diving deep into hers where he found his answer. She was in love with him, unwavering love. He noticed her expression and knew she was asking herself the same question. Could he continue to love her for thousands, millions of years?
"I love you forever, Chloe. And I know what forever means." She nodded, a runaway tear meandering down her cheek. He kissed her tenderly tasting the saltiness of it.
"OK," she whispered, kissing him back.
After precious moments in each other's arms, a sound came from the baby monitor on the bedside table and Chloe reached for it with a trained reflex.
"She's stirring," she said, turning the monitor so he could look at it. The tiny person was lying on her back, a leg occasionally kicking out. "If I feed her now she'll go back to sleep." Her breasts were firm with milk and he kissed each tenderly. He rolled to the side to free her, feeling the sweat that was between them instantly turn cold. She grabbed a robe and walked to the door then turned to him. "Coming?" She held out a hand to him. He hesitated. He should not. He had come here tonight resolute to never hold Rory again. But with her so close, his feelings raw, he found himself unable to resist. He slipped on his discarded trousers and took Chloe's hand.
They walked in silence to the nursery and she opened the door slowly. She pulled him into the room and moved to the crib while he studied the unchanged space. It was dark but he could make everything out now, including the afghan blanket he had bought her, the color of her future wings. The smell inside the room was incredible and an invisible hand seemed to squeeze the blood out of his heart. Her baby smell. His eyes teared as he took a shaking breath.
Chloe lifted the little bundle up and placed her in his arms. He chose to sit on the carpeted floor lest his knees buckle beneath him. "Little one," he whispered in Rory's raven hair, kissing the top of her head. He breathed her in deeply like new parents were want to do. Tears rolled down his cheeks and Chloe sat next to him, caressing his messy hair.
"She looks so much like you," she whispered. He stared at the tiny angelic face and nodded. There were his eyebrows, his pronounced cupid's bow, the cleft of his chin. But her nose, cheekbones and the shape of her eyes were definitely all Chloe. He kissed the mother then the child.
The little person began nuzzling his chest sleepily. "What is she doing?" he asked smiling.
"Looking for your nipples," Chloe kidded.
"Oh, right" he said, raising an eyebrow. She took Rory cautiously from him, as though handling an armed explosive device, opened her robe and allowed the baby to latch on. Chloe sighed and reached her free hand to hold his.
Lucifer kept his eyes on the sweet face of his daughter who was avidly drinking from the breast. "She has your table manners, I see," he joked and Chloe giggled softly, a faraway look in her eye. Lucifer pushed the hair from her face and kissed her again. "Thank you." She smiled and turned her eyes to Rory.
After their baby had finished feeding, Lucifer held her till she slept deeply again before laying her down in the crib. He leaned over and kissed her forehead one last time, promising himself to remember her scent forever. He slowly backed out of the room and Chloe closed the door behind him. They held each other then, in the middle of the hallway, no words needed between them.
Lucifer slipped on the vest and shrugged into his suit jacket, tucking the tie into his pocket. He took the pocket square, kissed it and put it down on the dresser.
"Thank you, my love," she said smiling. He knew she was trying not to cry. "Do you want to take the old ones back?" He shook his head. She moved unto her knees. Did she know?
"Keep it. And where is my ransom?" he smiled. She grabbed a pillow, removed the pillow case and handed it to him. He brought it to his face and took in a deep breath. Her smell. "Perfect." He put it in his pocket.
They stared at each other then. Chloe looked like an angel, eyes wide with the sadness of their imminent separation. She must know, he thought. But she was not one to have difficult discussions. They simply had to, though. "Lucifer," she pleaded, clearly understanding his need to speak.
"I don't want to have this talk any more than you do, Chloe but it's time."
"I can't," she whispered, turning away from him.
He walked over to the bed and sat next to her, taking her hand with both of his. "My love, it's time. We are playing with fire. You have to start your life with her, just the three of you. And I simply can no longer be a part of it. She cannot get attached to me, or miss me. And every time I hold her, the bond…" His voice trailed off and he swallowed forcefully. Chloe nodded, tears streaking her beautiful face.
He found himself unable to tell her his real fear, and she was no longer able to guess as she once could. What Lucifer feared most was not the tightening of the bond with Rory that might alter her future. What he feared most was so much harder to admit to himself. He feared their bond might be loosening on his end.
He felt a distance, a detachment, an inability to feel what he thought all proper fathers should: a constant unbreakable bond with his daughter, her welfare always at the forefront of his mind. He felt it when he was here holding her. But in hell, he could go years without thinking of her. He hated himself for it but it was true.
He was constantly getting caught up in someone's horrifying hell loop. He had to compartmentalize for fear the unspeakable things he saw would sully the memory of her. Or of Chloe. The things he held in that compartment, though, were harder and harder to access and felt more like distant memory than his present. What if, one day, she started to feel that distance? What if he was unable to hide it as he hid so many parts of himself now?
"That's why you stayed away so long this time," she uttered, her hands fidgeting.
"Chloe, you are the love of my life and I…" She kissed him then, trying to stop the words he wanted to say and he accepted it.
"We still have time," she whispered. Very little, he wanted to add but didn't.
She undid his belt and zipper in silence, crying silent tears. In turn he undid her robe and slipped it off her shoulders. She unbuttoned his shirt and vest and spread them apart, running her hands over his chest. She kissed him fiercely and his cock hardened between them. He brought a hand between her legs, caressing her, readying her for him, feeling the warmth of her arousal. Without a word, she straddled him and lowered herself unto his erection, kissing his face tenderly as she began to grind against him. He ran his hands over the muscles and bones of her back, his fingertips scanning every feature into his memory. Her head fell back and he pressed his lips against her elegant throat.
She began sobbing in earnest, emitting whimpers of pleasure and pain he had never heard from her before. "Chloe," he said alarmed, "should we stop?" She shook her head no and redoubled her efforts above him, rising and falling with such power he had no choice but to surrender entirely to her. She grabbed his face between her hands and stared into his eyes, into his soul, shattering her heart against his. Her body told him she was climaxing and for the first time he wanted her not to do so. "Don't yet," he begged. "Just a little longer," he pleaded. "Please." She did not seem to hear him. Had he even spoken the words aloud?
Her body collapsed in his arms and her familiar cries rang in his ears. Without any thought, his pleasure peaked and he came, too, holding on to her for dear life, perched on the edge of the bed they no longer shared.
He laid back and brought her down to rest next to him, her shoulders still shaking. She melted into him, her breasts pressed against his chest, skin to skin.
"Would you lie on top of me for a while," she requested tenderly.
"Of course, yes," he whispered back, draping his weight over her body. "There, the world's most handsome weighted blanket." He kissed her neck and tickled her with his stubble. She giggled then wrapped her arms around him more tightly, breath slowing, limbs relaxing.
He closed his eyes and prayed to his brother for the strength to do what he knew he must.
Trixie bounded in at 6 am and jumped unto Chloe's bed. Smiling, she looked around the room.
"Was Lucifer here last night, Mommy?" she asked and Chloe's heart dropped. She was so intuitive.
"No Monkey. Lucifer is not coming back, remember?" The words turned her insides and she took a long breath to try to steady herself.
Trixie rolled her eyes and Chloe laughed. "You're supposed to be a detective, but sometimes you can be so clueless. He was here."
"Was he?"
"Yeah. See!" She pointed matter-of-factly at the pillow stripped of its case. "He comes at night and steals your pillowcase when he misses you too much."
"Ah," said Chloe nodding slowly. "Or, maybe I just took off the pillow case because I forgot to wash my face and mascara ran all over it?" Trixie shrugged her shoulders, unwilling to let go of her Lucifer narrative. She brought a small hand to Chloe's face.
"Were you crying again?"
"Maybe," Chloe said. She had given up trying to hide her emotions from Trixie long ago. She was almost a teenager now and so perceptive. Discussing hard things frankly was always best.
"Dad, or Lucifer, or both?"
"Both," Chloe lied. Trixie nodded knowingly and gave her a big hug, leaning her head on her mother's shoulder. "I'm OK now, Monkey." Trixie jumped off the bed and walked to the door, strolling right by the pocket square Lucifer had left on the dresser. Chloe cursed herself for forgetting to hide it. If her daughter saw it, she said nothing.
"I think we should make Decker egg sandwiches. What do you think?" Trixie asked turning at the door.
"What a great idea!" There was just enough time for her daughter to close the door before Chloe fell apart again.
The egg sandwich had gone a long way to making Chloe feel better and the innumerable duties of motherhood kept her moving mindlessly through the morning. After putting Trixie on the school bus and handing Rory over to the nanny Lucifer had hired, Chloe ran up the stairs to get ready to leave for the precinct. She slipped the pocket square into a plastic zip bag, hoping to trap his scent for as long as possible. She dressed, clipped her badge unto her jeans and removed her gun from the locked drawer where she kept it along with three more of his pocket squares. Don't think, she told herself, going mechanically about her tasks.
She quickly stripped the bed and threw the sheets into the washing machine to get rid of any signs of lovemaking. She walked into her closet to the back shelf where, neatly stacked, were the extra pillowcases she had bought to replace those he systematically stole at each visit. There must have been ten of them. She ran a hand from the top to the bottom of the pile, feeling the cotton between her fingers. The high stack looked like a stupid monument to her foolish hopes. Hope they had more time, had so many more nights together.
They would be together again in a celestial afterlife she knew would one day come. That notion did little to comfort her very human heart now, though. Tears came to her eyes but she willed them away.
Her long journey back to him had just begun.
Back in hell, Lucifer walked through the door into the office identical to that of the Doctor. He pulled Chloe's pillowcase from his pocket and slipped it unto one of the couch's throw pillows. He stretched to his full length on the sofa and brought the cushion over his face, breathing her smell. Eons till he would see her again. Then again, eons together after that, really together. No more being the distant and distracted visitor in his own home. No more feeling like a stranger. His eyes teared at the thought of how wonderful that would be. He lost Chloe and the special thing they had together years ago. When they were finally reunited some day, they would be true partners once more. And a family.
His long journey back to her had finally begun.