The three of them stepped out of the bar, the warm New York night air wrapping around them like a thick, living thing—humid, restless, and filled with the distant sounds of traffic, sirens, and the occasional drunken shouting match.
Matt, as he had been all night, didn't take his eyes off Lucifer.
Lucifer, who absolutely noticed, exhaled dramatically.
"You know, Matt," he muttered, loosening his tie as they walked, "most people would take this opportunity to appreciate their surroundings, maybe look at the cityscape instead of relentlessly staring at me."
Matt shrugged, completely unfazed. "I've already seen New York."
Lucifer scoffed, but Mazikeen cackled, clearly enjoying every second of Lucifer's suffering.
Matt continued unapologetically, his tone still light.
"So," he said, slipping his hands into his pockets, expression amused, "did you come to Hell's Kitchen for the irony of it, or does the Devil just like slumming it?"
Lucifer groaned.
"Please," he muttered, "as if I don't get enough of that joke already."
Mazikeen grinned. "Pretty sure I made it first."
"You did," Lucifer sighed, then shot Matt a look. "I'd expect better from you, Matt."
Matt tilted his head slightly, smirking. "Oh, I can do better."
Lucifer arched a brow, intrigued. "Can you now?"
"Mm." Matt nodded. "But first, humor me—why are you here?"
Lucifer stretched his arms over his head, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the weight of something unseen.
"A vacation," he muttered. "I was getting dreadfully bored in Hell."
Matt blinked, clearly not expecting that answer.
"Wait," he said. "You can just… leave Hell whenever you want?"
"Of course," Lucifer said, matter-of-factly. "It's my domain. I can do whatever I please."
Mazikeen grunted. "Except actually run it properly."
Lucifer waved a dismissive hand. "Details, Maze."
Matt huffed a quiet laugh. "So, what—you just woke up one morning and thought, 'I'm tired of ruling the underworld, I think I'll go day-drink in New York instead'?"
Lucifer grinned. "Essentially, yes."
Matt shook his head, amused but also oddly fascinated.
Lucifer. The Devil. The literal King of Hell…
And he was just walking down the street, complaining about boredom like a disgruntled office worker.
He still hadn't looked away from him.
And Lucifer—who was entirely unused to being on the receiving end of such unwavering attention—was still trying to figure out how he felt about that.
"You're a college student, yes?" Lucifer asked, changing the subject.
Matt nodded. "At Columbia. I am to be a lawyer in three more years."
Lucifer arched a brow. "And what, pray tell, is a soon-to-be lawyer doing entertaining the Devil in the middle of the night?"
Matt grinned slightly.
"Summer break is about to start," he said. "Figured I wouldn't mind giving you two a tour when it does."
Lucifer laughed.
"Oh, how generous of you, Matt," he drawled, mockingly placing a hand over his heart. "A personal tour from New York's finest future lawyer? How ever will I repay you?"
Matt, entirely unbothered, smirked as they soon arrived at their destination. Matt opened the door, motioning them inside. His apartment was large, but well-kept. The kind of space that belonged to someone who lived efficiently, not luxuriously. A mix of organized chaos and quiet warmth.
Lucifer took one step inside, golden eyes flicking across every detail—
The neatly stacked law books.
The old, well-worn couch.
The large windows illuminating the dark room faintly that would have brighten the room in the day.
"Oh dear," Lucifer mused, hands slipping into his pockets as he surveyed the space. "This is far too humble for a man who just invited the literal Devil into his home."
Matt, utterly unfazed, shut the door behind them. "I don't get many visitors who expect a penthouse."
Lucifer sighed dramatically, spinning on his heel. "A shame, really. You deserve better."
Matt arched a brow. "And you'd know what I deserve?"
Lucifer smirked. "Oh, undoubtedly."
Mazikeen, throwing herself onto the couch without hesitation, snorted. "He's going to be like this all night, isn't he?"
Matt grinned. "Seems that way."
Lucifer huffed, ignoring them both, instead snapping his fingers.
A bottle of fine red wine materialized in his hand, along with two elegant crystal glasses.
Matt's head tilted slightly, listening to the way the liquid swirled as Lucifer poured.
"Now we're getting somewhere," Lucifer mused, handing Matt a glass.
Matt took it without hesitation. "Trying to get me drunk, Morningstar?"
Lucifer smiled sweetly. "Would that be so terrible?"
Matt took a slow, deliberate sip.
The wine was rich, deep, smooth—dangerously expensive.
Lucifer watched him closely, waiting to see the moment the alcohol softened his resolve.
Matt lowered the glass, smirking faintly.
"You're trying to fluster me."
Lucifer's smirk didn't waver.
"Trying implies I'm not succeeding."
Matt took another sip. "You're not."
Lucifer's eyes gleamed.
"Is that so?" he purred, stepping closer.
Matt didn't move.
Lucifer, ever the devilishly persistent one, tilted his head.
"You know, Matt," he mused, voice dipping lower, "this little game we're playing… you're handling it quite well."
Matt, still impossibly steady, shrugged.
"I grew up in Hell's Kitchen," he murmured, "I know how to handle the Devil."
Lucifer laughed, deep and rich.
"Oh, darling," he murmured, stepping even closer. "Do you?"
Matt stood his ground, completely unfazed.
If anything—
He smirked.
And that?
That was entirely unacceptable.
Lucifer, feeling a rare sense of mischievous frustration, leaned in just slightly—
Only for Matt to tilt his head upward, closing the distance just enough to be dangerous.
Lucifer stopped.
Because Matt's lips were inches from his.
Warm. Steady. Unyielding.
Lucifer was rarely caught off guard.
But now?
Now he was forced to admit that Matt Murdock was not playing fair.
Matt, smirking, whispered—"What's the matter, Lucifer? Thought you liked a challenge?"
And that?
That was it.
Lucifer kissed him.
Not gently.
Not cautiously.
But deeply, firmly, deliberately.
If Matt wanted to play with fire, then fine.
Lucifer would show him exactly what happened when he did.
Matt, to his credit, didn't pull away.
Didn't lose the game.
He met Lucifer perfectly, easily, without hesitation.
The kiss lingered, electric, fierce, and far too satisfying for Lucifer's liking.
Matt didn't pull away—didn't hesitate.
It wasn't a gentle kiss. It wasn't a sweet kiss.
It was a battle.
A game of who could break first.
Matt's lips pressed firmly against Lucifer's, unrelenting, and Lucifer found himself genuinely surprised. Not that Matt was inexperienced, no—far from it. But the way he met him, with equal intensity? That was new.
Lucifer's fingers tightened at Matt's neck, pulling him closer, intensifying the kiss.
Matt didn't flinch.
Instead, his hand slid up Lucifer's chest, to his neck, fingers brushing the sensitive skin beneath his ear—and Lucifer felt his breath catch, his pulse picking up, as Matt's grip tightened just slightly.
For a moment, it was just them, the entire world falling away as everything burned with a dangerous heat.
When Lucifer finally pulled back—only slightly, just enough for Matt to breathe—the young man's lips followed, pressing against his jaw, his ear, his neck.
A shiver ran down Lucifer's spine, and for the first time in decades, he found himself losing himself to passion.
He wasn't used to being the one chased.
But Matt?
Matt was relentless.
A growl rumbled in Lucifer's chest as he turned quickly, grabbing Matt by the waist, pulling him against him and claiming his lips once again.
The kiss deepened—frenzied, desperate, as Lucifer's hands roamed over Matt's back, pulling him closer, feeling the hard lines of his body under his touch.
Matt's hands—those clever, talented hands—slid under Lucifer's shirt, burning the skin of his stomach, sending shocks of need straight through his spine.
Lucifer groaned, feeling the heat in his chest, the urge to push forward, to take it further. His lips curled into a grin.
"Let's see if you can keep up," he said, kissing him deeper, pushing him back against the couch as his hands moved lower, sliding over Matt's hips, pulling him flush against his body.
The air between them was charged, overwhelming, as Matt's hands moved faster, pulling Lucifer's shirt outside of his pants, fingers moving inside the fabric to graze over Lucifer's sides and sending shivers down the angel's spine.
The heat between them was intoxicating—a game of passion and restraint, a dance between control and submission that neither of them was willing to give up just yet.
Lucifer broke the kiss with a groan, staring down at Matt—flushed, panting, but with a smirk on his lips.
Matt shot a mock glare at Mazikeen, who was looking at them as if watching her favorite show, but Lucifer didn't seem to mind. In fact, he was looking at Matt with an expression that made Matt's pulse race.
Matt reached up, pulling Lucifer's face back to his. "You're staying with me tonight."
Lucifer didn't respond immediately.
But he couldn't leave, not when Matt was offering himself without hesitation.
He simply nodded, letting his lips brush over Matt's once more, a soft sigh escaping him.
Mazikeen let out another mocking whistle, but neither of them cared. Not anymore.
Lucifer straightened slightly when he felt some of his divine being slipping too much, gathering himself as he often did when having some real fun sex with humans, letting a sliver of his divine presence pull back—
Only for Matt to immediately frown.
"Don't," he murmured, tilting his head slightly.
Lucifer blinked, genuinely caught off guard. "Don't what, darling?"
Matt's hand curled around his wrist, firm, grounding.
"Don't hide from me."
Lucifer exhaled sharply, surprised by the blunt honesty, the unwavering certainty in his tone.
"...You're sure about that?" Lucifer asked, tilting his head, his golden eyes gleaming in the dim light.
Matt's fingers tightened slightly, the weight of his stare challenging and unyielding.
"I want to see all of you," Matt said simply. "I want to see the you."
Lucifer's chest tightened slightly.
Because few had ever said that to him before. The ones in know, they had called him a devil, a monster, a fallen disgrace. They had either feared or worshiped him, begged him, or cursed him.
But not many looked at him with this kind of want.
So if Matt wanted danger?
Fine.
Lucifer would give it to him.
He let out a low, pleased hum, his predatory smirk returning.
"Careful what you ask for, Matt," he purred, leaning in closer, their lips almost touching. "You just might get it."
And then, Lucifer moved.
His hands slid down Matt's chest, firm and commanding, pushing him down against the couch, settling over him with purpose, some of his divine being grazing Matt's soul.
Matt's breath hitched, his body tensing just slightly beneath him.
Lucifer grinned.
"Oh? What's this?" he murmured, his voice silken and amused as he trailed his lips along Matt's jaw, down his throat, using some of his real being be felt.
Matt shuddered.
"Not so cocky now, are we, dear?" he mused around a chuckle, letting his lips barely brush the skin of Matt's racing pulse.
Matt let out a breath—shaky, uneven, almost a whimper.
Lucifer stilled, a slow, dangerous grin spread across his face.
"Oh, darling," he purred, thrilled, his voice sinking into something lower, richer, smoother. "Was that a sound?"
Matt's face flushed immediately.
Lucifer—sensing weakness—pressed in closer, letting his hands wander lower, teasing, maddening.
Matt's breath hitched again, and this time, he actually gripped Lucifer's shoulders, trying to steady himself.
Lucifer's grin widened.
"My, my," he murmured, mockingly sweet, "all that confidence and yet, one little touch, and suddenly—"
Matt, gritted his teeth, clearly trying to regain control.
Lucifer chuckled, delighted.
"Ah, but you see, darling," he whispered, lips just barely brushing Matt's ear, "this is where I win."
Matt swallowed hard.
Lucifer could feel it.
The heat. The tension. The way Matt's body was pinned beneath his, breath coming faster, muscles tensed like he was fighting to keep himself together.
Lucifer had him now.
Matt might have won the game of words, but actions?
That was Lucifer's territory.
And Matt was drowning in it.
Lucifer grinned, utterly triumphant until Matt's hands suddenly slid up his back, fingers pressing between his shoulder blades—Right where his wings would be.
Lucifer jerked, caught completely off guard, a startled sound escaping him, before he could stop it. "Fuck!"
Matt's smirk returned instantly.
"...So sensitive," he murmured, voice pleased, teasing, knowing.
Lucifer froze.
Mazikeen—who had been watching this like her favorite drama—cackled.
"Oh my God, boss, you just made a sound."
Lucifer—scandalized—sat up immediately.
"I did not."
"You so did," Mazikeen grinned.
Matt, grinning smugly, stretched beneath him, looking far too pleased. "Looks like I win this round too."
Lucifer gawked at him.
Matt just smiled.
Mazikeen smirked, lifting her drink. "This," she announced, pleased, "is the best night of my life."
Lucifer—still flustered and defeated—narrowed his eyes. "Oh, you cheeky little—"
Before Matt could gloat further, Lucifer shifted, and suddenly—
His wings manifested.
They weren't fully visible in this plane, but Matt could feel them—could sense the immensity of them, the way they stretched far beyond what should be possible, half-there, half-not, brushing against reality itself.
And then—
One of them moved.
Matt sucked in a breath as Lucifer's wing dragged over his side, feathers whisper-soft as they ghosted along his arm, his ribs, teasing, tempting. Every touch fueled by divinity.
Matt's fingers twitched.
Lucifer grinned wickedly. "Oh? Are we feeling sensitive, Matt?"
Matt swallowed, his composure finally slipping, a slight flush creeping up his neck.
Lucifer chuckled, pleased beyond measure. "Turnabout is fair play, after all."
Matt inhaled sharply, jaw clenching as Lucifer's wings moved again, trailing lower, brushing against his hips.
His breath hitched.
Lucifer's smirk deepened.
"There it is," he murmured, entirely too smug. "Now we're even."
Matt, determined not to lose completely, grabbed Lucifer by the front of his shirt and pulled him into another kiss, hard and deep.
Lucifer laughed against his lips, but he didn't resist—he pushed back just as fiercely, hands gripping Matt's waist, pinning him to the couch as the kiss turned heated, desperate.
They were losing themselves now.
A game had turned into something else entirely.
Their bodies were pressed together, breath mingling, hands wandering—until suddenly, Matt pulled back, voice hoarse.
"Room," he muttered.
Lucifer blinked, briefly thrown off. "Hmm?"
Matt exhaled sharply, fingers still gripping Lucifer's shirt.
"Bedroom. Now."
Lucifer grinned sharply, eyes flashing.
"Oh, Matt," he purred, "I thought you'd never ask."
They barely made it to their feet before they were on each other again, kissing, touching, stumbling toward the bedroom—
And leaving behind a very disappointed Mazikeen on the couch.
She watched them go, scowling. "Oh, come on."
Matt, already halfway down the hall, called back, "Not into being watched."
Mazikeen groaned, flopping onto the couch, clearly betrayed.
"This is bullshit," she muttered, reaching for the bottle of wine Lucifer had summoned. "I wanted to see the action."
She took a long, dramatic swig, glaring at the bedroom door as it slammed shut.
"Cowards."
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