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It’s a friday night, Lux is packed with a sweaty, high-end crowd, and Chloe Decker is drunk on the high of discovering a new kink… and cocktails only Maze knows what she has poured in it. She entirely deserves this - dancing her busy mind away with her friends, not questioning what drink Maze puts in her hand - after the day she’s had.
Lucifer has been insufferable. A child on a sugar rush that lasts all day. Even young Trixie had never had so much energy when she took her to Disneyworld, and Chloe had been on the verge of a breakdown then. But her partner hasn't shut up since he’s step foot in the precinct with his stupid hair perfectly laid back and his stupid perfectly folded pocket square this morning, about his special guest and how he is honored, and how some humans deserve a special place in hell.
She’s heard the song, mainly because he hasn’t stopped whistling it since he heard it on the radio three days ago on their way to a murder scene. But she hadn’t seen the video, and hadn’t made the connection until Ella showed her… and so now she wishes she had, sooner, because she wouldn’t have showed up here at all. If she had wanted to ruin her underwear and see Lucifer’s face all hot and bothered and horny, she would have just gone to sleep. (Her wet dreams can be wild.)
“Lindaaaaa,” she rolls her friend’s name off her tongue. “You’ve slept with Lucifer.”
Linda chokes on her drink - what is she drinking and why is it neon pink? - as Chloe - she wants a taste of that - lands a hand on her shoulder and slides her arm around her shoulders, sitting herself close enough to hear her answer over that stupid song the DJ keeps playing all over again.
“I have, yes. Why are you asking?” She asks as she takes a sip of that sweet-looking neon drink and shoots Chloe a look that she misses. If it’s her opportunity to be the detective, for once, she is going to take it.
Chloe turns around, letting her arm fall away from Linda who follows her look.
“Does Lucifer… dancing,” she hesitates a second, “with a man bother you?”
“No! No, not at all,” Chloe exclaims. “I knew he slept with men, I don’t mind. It doesn’t bother me, that’s the problem.”
“Are you worried because you do not feel jealous?” Linda tries to offer an explanation.
The thought hasn’t even crossed Chloe’s mind until now, that she decides right here and then as Lil Nas X twerks on Lucifer that she will deal with her absence of jealousy later. For now, she has another issue she needs to tend to. She swiftly bends to catch the straw in Linda’s neon pink drink and takes a sip - it tastes even sweeter than it looks. She sits back and tries to take a second to think, but fails to come up with anything coherent, so she just lets the words wander out of her mouth.
“Nooo, I just… I love seeing him like that,” she realizes as the words come out of her mouth.
The realization settles in as she watches him. She has come to terms with the fact that she will never know all of him, because he’s the devil and she’s a mere mortal and no matter how long she tries she will never understand the depth of his traumas, but this… this isn’t trauma. This is pure lust, this is raw sexual energy begging to be released.
“And you know, I never thought… I never thought I’d find boy on boy action so hot,” Chloe whines as she lets herself sprawl on the bar.
Lucifer shines with a light she’s never seen. He’s devouring the man with his eyes, his hands wandering with curiosity, discovering a body that adores him, dances on him with hunger. Chloe knew he slept with men and women alike, and she had seen him hit on many, many of them, but rarely men. Maybe he refrains from hitting on men in front of her, she thinks. Maybe he was afraid she would see him in a different lie.
Bullshit, Lucifer doesn’t care what people think of him. No wait- that’s bullshit. He cares deeply about what she thinks of him.
Chloe misses Linda’s laugh, engrossed with the sight of her partner so excited and exciting.
“You’d never thought of him with another man,” Linda explicits.
“Yeah, I guess,” Chloe sighs as she slightly tilts her head, following the young man leaving Lucifer sitting on his own while he goes back to the brand new, installed for the occasion but might become permanent, pole dance bar. Lucifer, shirt disheveled and half of its button undone, his eyes gleaming with envy, his skin glowing under the dim, red light of the club… sitting in his throne - that he probably had some artist that was due a favor make for him - looks like temptation himself, and Chloe thinks a brief second that she does not blame Eve the slightest bit. His eyes roam the crowd as he sits upright, and when they lock with her, they both know that she’s an open book and she shamelessly lets him read through her. Knowing Lucifer is the actual devil, past the nervous breakdown and the billion questions, has brought them closer, and built a trust they both thought was broken after she tried to send him back to hell. That comes with an angle of their relationship they haven’t explored yet - or rather, an angle they haven’t explored yet together. Chloe has had her fair share of self-indulged fantasies.
“Enjoying your night, Detective?” His suave voice surprises her from behind.
She hasn’t noticed him crossing the club over, once again lost in her thoughts. She would usually fustige herself to get her shit together, instead of letting alcohol get to her head, but feeling safe, letting herself be surprised by him, knowing she can let herself go is such a rare occurrence she brushes her common sense away.
“Not as good as yours, I believe,” she teases.
He slides close to her, much closer than he would at work; they both miss Ella side-eyeing them as Linda just sighs.
“I’m having a marvelous night but it could always get better,” he swirls the words next to her ear, and draws back as he wiggles his brows. He used to pull this move on her every week when they started working together; she just laughs at the dear memories and ignores her lower belly getting tighter.
“Could it really?”
“Why don’t you join me and my dear friend Nas X over there?”
Chloe chokes on - wait, when did she get her own neon pink drink?
“I don’t think so, no, I’ll pass.”
“Oh come oooon, Detective,” Lucifer whines. “Come dance with me only then.”
He offers her his hand, his eyes gleaming with mischief. Chloe would have hesitated, but the playful energy that radiates from him rubs off on her. It’s been so long since he’s let himself go, let his inner child take over, she barely remembers when is the last time she has seen him and indulged in stupid fun with him the way they used to.
She keeps her neon drink - she is never letting it get away from her - in one hand and gives him the other, his fingers steadily wrapping around her hand, before he naviguates them through the sweating, dancing bodies of the crowd. His hand slowly lets go of hers, his arm sneaking around her waist to pull her close to his body.
Lucifer has always had a wide variety of music playing at the club, ranging from jazz he would sing himself while playing the piano along to aspiring DJs whose eyes all looked like Jed’s to Chloe : sparkling with hope, widened with coke. (She wonders if Jed ever even understood that was the reason all her stuff was gone from his apartment when he woke up on a spring morning of 2005.) Tonight is no different; the DJ has been remixing Montero a hundred times but the crowd hasn’t grown tired of the sweet rhythm and neither has Chloe. Her body sways almost lazily to the song as Lucifer invites her every so often to step closer to him and she takes every opportunity, until their bodies make one.
He murmurs some insanely obscene words along the song in her ear as she tilts her head and closes her eyes in enjoyment; she’s still holding her drink, but her other hand comes up from his chest to the nape of his neck to his hair, and in that moment, Chloe could swear no matter if this is heaven or hell, she never wants to let him go.
She brings her drink to his face in temptation. She doesn’t expect him to actually do it, but, his eyes plunging into hers, his tongue swirls around the tip of the straw and toys with it before his lips close around it. Chloe doesn’t register if he takes a sip or not, bewitched by his lips as he slowly licks the bottom one. If he did take a sip… he must taste sweet, sweeter than he does on a regular basis; it almost stuns her that she knows the taste of his lips, that she could ever want to taste him again so, so badly. He has resumed singing, Chloe realize, but he is the insanely obscene one now, and she can’t make sense of whatever he’s singing because she can’t focus on anything other than his lips, getting awfully closer and closer, until they’re both murmuring against each other’s lips like a prayer.
Chloe gives in without a second thought, sealing their lips only to find out he’s sweeter than she remembers, as sweet as he promised to be. He seems to lose all sense of that sexy self control he uses on everyone to charm his way into their sins as he moans in her mouth, a low rumble coming from deep inside his chest, vibrating against her. The tender press of their lips stays surprisingly chaste, as Lucifer lets go of her lips and, never breaking the rhythm he sways their bodies on. They bask in the low red light, in a pool of love and lust, for God only knows how long; they don’t kiss again, but they breath the same air and gasp together when one of their hands wander in uncharted territory on each other’s body; they’re teenagers discovering sex, they’re a couple married for fifty years that knows every tender place, they’re two vulnerable, untimely human bodies lusting for one another.
Lucifer’s head is nestled in her neck when Chloe spots the young man staring at them from across the stage. Lots of people are staring, but she misses it, closing her eyes when Lucifer’s nose brushes against her jaw and she can almost feel his mouth hot on her skin if she focuses hard enough. He doesn’t kiss her but she thrives in her desire for him to do so. She wonders if he feels somewhat at home, being a king in that lustful club that feels like heaven but definitely looks like hell. She opens her eyes again to look at him, confirming that he does look like a king. He must feel her do so, or maybe he can read her thoughts now, like that would be a shocker - but the moment their eyes meet, she’s surprised she doesn’t cum or at least ignites and combusts right and then in his arms. If he reads her thoughts he doesn’t pick up on that - she makes a mental note to ask him if he can do that, or if another angel can, because she wants to stay as far away from them as she can. His hands roam her body on the rhythm, but come back to the same spots every few beats like clockwork; one on the small of her back, the other buried in her hair, which is incredibly intimate and looks more like love making than dancing.
Chloe sees him before Lucifer, entranced with her, can register what’s about to happen. She tries to convey the invitation with her eyes, as to not awake Lucifer’s sixth sense when it comes to her and guesses he understands.
Lucifer’s head sparks up from Chloe’s hair when Nas’ hands sneak up on his back. He looks over his shoulder to confirm his intuition and groans - almost a devil groan, he barely sounds human, that shouldn’t be so hot - when it clicks in his brain that he has his insanely hot partner that he’s in love with in his arms, and an equally insanely hot young man that all but worships him pressed up against his back.
He wonders for a second if he has been allowed back into heaven.
From the couch they’re sitting in, Maze and Linda watch attentively. Linda keeps an eye on Ella, who has been passed out for a solid half hour, her head on her friend’s lap, and snores lightly. Maze manages to stir her eyes away from the obscenity of the dancefloor to take a quick look at her watch.
“Do you think she’s down for a threesome?” Maze asks, interrupting the regularity of Ella’s snoring.
“Well,” Linda ponders her thoughts, “she doesn’t seem bothered by his attraction to men.”
“Obviously,” Maze rails as she watches Chloe slides a hand up Lucifer’s chest, clawing at his shoulder while Nas ravishes Lucifer’s neck and she stares at Lucifer’s face. Maze knows that face, she has seen it a thousand times because Lucifer is unashamed and never tries to hide it. “You know he’s a dick-grab away from cuming, right?”
“I’ve slept with him, Maze,” Linda states the obvious. “I know.”
Maze snorts and checks her watch once more.
“Duty calls!” She exclaims as she stands up. “Can you get that one in the car?” She motions to Ella.
“Yeah, you go take care of Chloe.”
Maze winks at her before she swiftly walks down their VIP spot. She makes her way through the crowd with a few feet stepped on and a couple of elbows thrown in rib cages.
“Alright, Decker, time to get home,” she calls on her friend when she reaches them, on the verge of starting an orgy, which she knows soner Chloe wouldn’t get into in such circumstances. Or maybe she would, it’s not like they’ve discussed sexual preferences over breakfast. But Chloe asked for that, so she can only blame herself.
“Maaaaze, you’re interrupting,” she groans, as Lucifer shots her death glares.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Maze sighs. “You asked for this, remember? You asked me to drag you home before five because you’re supposed to be at work,” she drags out the word, “in four hours.”
“She’s welcome to join us if she’s game,” Nas suggests just loud enough for Lucifer and Chloe to hear it.
Chloe sobers up at the thought of a foursome with her partner, her roomate and some pop star; she hasn’t even had sex with Lucifer alone yet, and it’s been ages since she’s been with a girl and there is no way she’s sleeping with Maze, how awkward would that make their living situation?
She reluctantly drops her hands from Lucifer’s body. They’ve got all the time in the world to slip their hands under each other’s clothes, scratch each other’s skin and bite and lick and kiss and fuck and make love… that’s for later. For now, Lucifer has a deliciously devilish pop star dying to spend the night at the penthouse with him, and Chloe would very much like him to make the best out of it, which doesn’t include holding her hair up when she’ll be waking up in a sweat and throwing up in a couple of hours. Maze is annoyingly right and a good friend tonight.
“Good night, Lucifer,” she murmurs in his ear before she plants a kiss on his cheek. His eyes burn for her as Nas licks his jaw line, which gets a low moan from Lucifer.
He’s in for a good night indeed.