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You knock on the door, balancing the tray in one hand. You are not surprised when no acknowledgement of your greeting rings out. You don't even remember the last time Lucifer had set foot in the dining room to take part in the family dinner, much less the kitchen for a bite of food. You had shared a maximum of a dozen words with him in the past week, as consumed as he was by his work.
You twist the handle of the door, feeling the familiar magic fizzle around your hand before the resistance ceases. You walk in; shifting the tray in both hands and gently nudging the door close with your hip.
Lucifer doesn’t look up at your entrance, still focused on the assortment of papers on his desk. He looks frantic as he works, forehead creased and fingers white from his deadly grip on the pen.
You set the tray on the little table by the sofas as quietly as possible and pick up his cup. He flips through a thick translucent file, scans a page, and notes down something on a small piece of paper. You inch closer to him surprised he hasn’t already noticed your presence. It must be extremely important paperwork for him to not be aware of his surroundings. Over his shoulder, you can see him calculating a bunch of eight-digit numbers.
He growls, slamming his hand down on the table, “Fuck!”
“Everything okay?”
He looks up from where he had thrown his head in his hands, doing a double take when he sees your wide eyes and the cup you hold in your hands. He softens, frustration seeping away for the moment. He rubs his eyes tiredly, inhaling heftily, and reaches out for the cup. “I apologize. Everything’s fine. Did I startle you?”
“No,” you reply, watching him sip the coffee you had made and feel a smirk flicker at your lips when Lucifer halts in faint surprise. The Hell Coffee had to be awfully bitter. The pause is brief though, he resumes his drinking quickly. You huff noiselessly and walk around his figure. His muscles are tense under your fingers, shoulders bunched with how long he’s been working.
Lucifer puts down the cup when you apply pressure on his shoulders, and leans back into your touch with a deep exhale. You massage his shoulders, taking care to press with appropriate pressure at the junction of his neck.
“Thank you,” Lucifer breathes, “I don’t say it often enough.”
You laugh, “It’s alright. You show it enough, that's all that matters.”
Lucifer grunts, reclining in his seat further. Peaceful silence thrums in the office, only filled by the dying crackle of the hearth and the soft ticking of the wall clock.
“I came across an error in last month's maintenance budget,” Lucifer starts, eyes closed and hands cupped around the warm cup, “Dire enough that I’ll have to talk it through with Diavolo.”
He pauses, “Tomorrow I’m having dinner with him. We're to finalize the categories for the Talent Hunt, and sort out the individual budgets."
He brings the cup to his lips, "I would ask you to come along, but I imagine it’s going to be more work than fun.”
You hum, “Don't forget to put some food in you while you're there. Even demons need their occasional nutrients.”
Lucifer sighs, lifting his head to look at you upside down. “I'm sorry I missed the past couple dinners. The work has been piling up with incredible speed and I could no longer push through it steadily.”
You comb his bangs away from his eyes, “I get it, really. I just want you to spare some time for basic necessities, you know. Come down for food at the least, you don’t have to stay long, fifteen minutes at most, and then you can get back to your work again.”
Lucifer nods, turning around in the chair. He clasps your raised hands in his, “I promise. I’ll make sure to never miss dinner again.”
You smile at him and bring his hands to your lips. Your eyes gaze into his as you press your lips to his knuckles.
The change is instant. His eyes darken, the red of his irises flaring up against the black as his eyes fall onto your lips when you pull away.
“That Hell Coffee was much appreciated. However, it has made my mouth rather bitter.” Lucifer says, dark voice sending a thrill shooting up your spine, “Now I’m craving something sweet.”
He stands, making you step backward. Sometimes you genuinely forget how tall your lover is. His hand sneaks around your waist, warm fingers igniting goosebumps all across your skin.
“You wouldn’t mind if I satiated my craving, would you?”
“No,” You breathe on his lips, “I don’t mind at all.”
Lucifer's hand tightens around your torso as he smashes his lips onto yours. A litany of curses lights up your mind, not unlike a display of dazzling fireworks. His lips are familiar against yours, a heady fragrance of cinnamon and woodsmoke capturing your senses. Why were you always so overwhelmed by the littlest of things this man did?
His other hand slides against your thigh and easily hoists you up. You lose yourself in him, in the feverish feeling of his hands roaming your body, the addicting taste of the coffee you had made on his lips, and the surprised moan he spills into your mouth when you tug at the hair on his nape. He walks over to the hearth, navigating the familiar room easily.
He drops you on the sofa and you look up at him, panting. Pride blooms in your chest in roaring waves; Lucifer's tidy appearance had come undone beneath your fingers, popped collar, mussed hair, and reddened lips. All to think because of you. Somehow, Lucifer's eyes glaze over even more, and he takes in a shuddering breath before his lips pull apart in a beautiful grin.
"Oh, darling! All for you."
How lucky you were that Lucifer had taken your bait. Everything was going according to plan, and you loved it.