Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

"Stop craning your neck. It's a dead giveaway. If you're going to eyeball fuck him from across the room, you could at least be a little less conspicuous about it. Though I guess you don't have a lot of dignity left to lose, do you?"

Verosika watched with some satisfaction as Lute stiffened, fingers forming claws around the stem of her cocktail. She tilted her head back in one smooth motion, baring the pale line of her throat as she downed the drink. She shoved it back at the bartender with an impatient sound, rounding her shoulders to block out any further conversation.

The message was clear: Fuck off.

Veroiska smiled. Not fucking lightly. If she had to come to this kindergarten party, she was going to at least have a little fun. Needling an ex-angel was entertaining enough to occupy an evening. It beat listening to the princess prattle about redemption. Corruption was at the heart of human nature. It was why so many of them ended up here.

"Why do you care?" Lute asked, breaking the tense silence at last. "It's my business."

"I happen to know a thing or two about men. I could give you a few pointers. I wouldn't tap that barrel of nuclear waste, but putting yourself out there and failing is less problematic than pining and hating any woman he does choose."

Lute's lip lifted off her teeth in a sneer, "You're a whore. He wouldn't look twice at you."

"A succubus, actually. Maybe you're right. Maybe he wouldn't look at me again, but he'd at least look once. He doesn't see you at all."

Lute head rocked back as though she'd been slapped. For a dangerous second, Verosika was sure she was about to cry. Then the moment passed, and she was on her feet, using the added inches of her heels to push in close. Verosika could smell the appletini on her breath. Her lips looked delicious, even set in a snarl.

"You bitch!"

"Tell me I'm wrong. Do you want him to look at you or not?"

Lute hesitated, a soft, almost yearning look crossing her face as her gaze slid over Veroiska's shoulder. Adam was dancing with a slim brunette. She gazed up at him adoringly, stars already dancing in her eyes. Oh how quickly those stars would fall. Toxic men were fun and exciting.

Until they weren't.

The ex-angel had dressed to impress, opting for a mostly backless cocktail dress. She'd paired it with stockings just high enough to give a nod to modesty without committing to the bit. The skirt barely brushed the lace top of her garters. She looked edible.

And Adam still wasn't looking. Bastard.

"What do you want?" she said at last.

"Dance with me."

Lute blinked. "What?"

"Dance with me. I know his type. He can't just let two women be close. He needs to," Verosika paused with a ghostly smile. "Insert himself, so to speak. It's not a party until the man walks in, right?"

Lute's expression clouded with annoyance for just a second. There. At least she had some backbone. If she could maintain it for long enough, she might just get over the prick.

"And that will make him look at me?"

"And see possibilities. Unless you're too chickenshit to even try."

Lute stood up a little straighter, uncertainty softening her expression to something damn near human. She looked like a young, nervous girl, not the hardened warrior or hardened right-hand man. It was endearing as hell. Veroiska would have ruffled her hair if it wouldn't have caused a fight. Despite it all, the angel was...cute. They'd met once when Princess Morningstar was pleading her case to Asmodeus. She'd been prickly then. Now Lute looked...hurt.

She recovered herself quickly, cocking one hip out before giving her a once-over. It was the first time Lute had actually looked at her properly. There was more heat to the assessment than she'd have expected. Self-loathing and internalized shame, thy name was angel.

"Just a dance?"

"Unless you want me to strip down and take you on the dance floor? I'm sure that would draw attention too."

Color flamed in Lute's cheeks. The flush only lent itself to the blushing schoolgirl look. She really was adorable if you took the time to pick apart the shell.

"I'm not a pervert."

"That's fine. I'm enough of a pervert for both of us," Veroskia said with a merry wink.

"Of that, I have no doubt," Lute muttered.

Chapter Text

Lute's heart jumped into her throat as the demon's hand closed around her wrist, tugging her gently toward the dance floor. She could have pulled away. Shouted at the presumption. Stormed up the stairs to her room to sulk yet again. But...

He was looking at her.

Lute could feel his attention on her back. Could practically feel his eyes trace the line of her spine and imagine what his fingers would feel like if he rested his hand on the curve of her waist. But it wasn't his hands on her. These were softer. Warmer. They feathered gentle touches over her back, her sides, and her navel, until the anticipation of touch was its own sweet, pleasurable agony.

The demoness' was looking too. Lute knew it ought to disgust her. It was wrong. Blasphemous. And yet, they were staying under the same roof. There was no going back to what she'd been, even if she was willing to abandon Adam.

Lute reached for her without thought, leaning into the dips and sway that made up the beat of the song. Veroiska performed several sharp turns until Lute's world whirled in color and sensation. Heat built in her belly. She needed to pull away now, while she still could.

But he was looking at her. His eyes were glued to her, heat kindling in their depths. He saw her at last.

A lot of them were watching, actually. The Princess couldn't have looked more gobsmacked if Lute had stormed across and struck her across the face.

Verosika spun Lute in another graceful twirl before tugging her in once more. The demoness' thighs moving so close was enough to pour pleasure into her. Her back arched into a bow of ecstasy. She might have collapsed if Verosika hadn't scooped Lute into her arms. Her breasts were distractingly full against Lute's cheek. She smelled like honey and cream. Something sweet to lick off the skin.

"There you go," she purred. "That's it. Let it out. You've been dying to for ages."

Her cheeks burned. Of course the damned demon would know how long it had been. Years and years of neglect. She didn't touch herself often and when she did, she thought of him. After a while it had made her faintly disgusted with herself. He didn't see her that way.

Until now.

Lute backed up a step, legs wobbling. For a second she feared they'd go out from beneath her. Then she gathered herself, backing away as quickly as she could manage without tripping over her feet. It had gone too far. He'd seen. They'd all seen it. And with a woman, no less. How could she face any of them now?

"I have to go," she said, voice hoarse.

Veroiskia blinked. "Lute?"

Lute continued to back away, never quite taking her eyes off the demoness. She didn't turn her back until she reached the stairs. Then she pelted up them, two at a time, trying to quell the fierce stinging of her pride. Words chased her, no matter how fast she ran.

You filthy hypocrite.

Chapter Text

Lute was red-faced and cursing by the time she reached her room. She'd barely managed to ascend the stairs on shaking legs. She'd at least made it to the claustrophobic red room that Princess Morningstar called a 'cozy single.' 

Cozy my ass. This whole place is a tacky dump. If I had any sense, I'd find somewhere else to stay. 

But where else was there? Ex-Exorcist angels weren't exactly well-regarded in Hell, even ones who'd fallen and (sort of) apologized. Besides, she doubted if there was a single sinner in hell who wouldn't know what a slut she was by morning. Dancing with a succubus had been the height of stupidity. What had she expected to happen?

A knock at the door made her pause, hands falling away from the dress that had bunched at her waist. She approached cautiously. If she saw that demoness on the other side of the peephole, heads were going to roll. 

But it wasn't Verosika. It was a man. A familiar man.

Adam. 

“Lute,” Adam’s voice slurred through the door. "Hey, Lute! You awake?" 

Lute paused, considering it for a moment. She opened the door a crack, keeping her front pressed to the back of her door, trying to preserve her modesty.

Adam leaned against her door frame, still wearing the same smug smile he’d had at the party, but now it was glazed over with alcohol. 

And he looked...hungry.

“You looked…” he trailed off, searching for the word. He groped around for it before coming up with, "Sexy, tonight." 

Her heart slammed desperately against her ribs, and her stomach performed an eager flip-flop. He'd said sexy. And he was looking at her while he did it.

"Thank you, Sir," Lute whispered.

Adam lunged, and she barely had time to brace. He kissed her hard, pressing himself against her front with a groan of want. His hand seized hers, guiding it to his waistband. 

"Feel it, babe. That's all for you." 

Lute curled her fingers cautiously around the bulge that he pressed into her palm. He was hard. For her. Part of her was thrilled. He was here. He wanted her. And yet, part of her flinched. His breath smelled like bourbon and there was a smear of lipstick on his collar. His dancing partner must have gotten frisky. 

It was a spark of hurt-fueled envy that made her step closer, sliding her fingers inside to cup him in her hand. His eyes closed, and he hissed a reverent, "Oh, fuck yeah. That's nice. Keep doing it just like that."

Adam slipped a hand into her hair, holding her in an iron grip. Her heart pounded as he backed her toward the bed. This felt...fast. Too fast. But he would hate her for saying no. He would laugh if she asked him to slow down.

“Adam...” she tried, palms bracing against his chest, “You’ve had too much. Maybe we should do this in the morning. When we're both sober?" 

And when he could actually talk without slurring his words. Maybe then he'd touch her gingerly. Like she mattered. 

“So?” he murmured, dragging his lips along her cheek. His mouth was hot. Devouring. She groaned a little when he sank his teeth into the curve of her shoulder. "I want this. Want you."

"Oh God," she whimpered, hands clamping around his shoulders, as though she might fall without him.

Adam's fingers slipped under the edge of her dress, skimming over the tops of her stockings. Warm, calloused hands braced her thighs, spreading her open. Her heart screamed yes. Her conscience whispered no. 

Lute let her hands drop as he cupped one breast hard, kneading it like dough. His breath was coming quicker now, and she squeaked when he shoved her bra down, taking a nipple into his mouth. 

"Oh fuck," she breathed when he nipped the sensitive peak.

"That's right, baby. You're with Adam now. No other dick can compare to the original."

He pulled her closer. She let him. Her breath hitched when he touched the soaked lace of her panties.

“Do you even know how long I’ve wanted this?” she whispered, clutching at his shirt like he might disappear if she didn’t hold tight enough.

Adam’s laugh rolled through his chest, warm and careless. "You should have just said something. You know I'd be down to smash. You're a little fucking hottie." 

Lute barely had time to gasp before Adam was pushing her backward, mouth chasing hers with sloppy confidence. His tongue forced its way into her mouth before she could even return the kiss properly. He groaned when he pressed a hand between her thighs and began tugging her underwear down. Lute's breath caught when he shoved two fingers into her.

“God, your pussy is so hot and wet. Saving it all for me? Or do you let girls touch it, too? Want her head between your legs? Cause that's hot as fuck."

Lute’s body went somehow hot and numb all at once. Fabric bunched around her waist. She hadn’t raised the dress, but there it was, still clinging on. He hadn't even taken it off. Lute could only watch as he fumbled with his belt, and she realized he was shaking. Not with hesitation.

With impatience.

He pushed inside her without warning.

Lute sucked in a breath. It wasn't pleasure, exactly, just an uncomfortable sense of fullness. She wiggled, trying to get accustomed to the size and feel of it in her. It had been years since she'd been with anyone like this.

“That’s it,” he grinned into her neck, interpreting her gasp as pleasure. Another sound escaped her when he thrust again, harder this time. “Knew you’d love my cock.”

Her fingers dug into Adam's shoulders, not to pull him closer. She was bracing. Maybe the orgasm downstairs had been a blessing in disguise. Without the humiliating proof of it still between her legs, the hard slap of Adam's body might have actually hurt. His hips slammed forward once, twice. 

It was supposed to feel good. They all said it was the best feeling in the world, being with the man you loved. She tried to find the part of her that had fantasized about this. That had replayed his smile in training drills, that had thought kissing him might be heaven.

But all she found was nausea.

Adam groaned louder, his breath ragged.

“Ohhh fuck yes. You've got a fucking vice grip, sweetheart. I should have done this a long time ago."

Done this. Not done you.

It was just sex. He wasn't looking at her. God, she doubted he was even in the same room, mentally. 

Her own body betrayed her with a flicker of heat, a spark shooting traitorously low in her belly. She clung to it. Maybe she just had a rough start. Maybe if she just focused, she'd come and make him happy.

Adam slammed forward one more time. Shuddered. Went still. He let out a self-satisfied sigh.

“Holy shit,” he panted. “I am so good.”

That was it.

He pulled out and stepped away like his part was done. Like she was done. Like he'd managed to send her into a screaming orgasm after five minutes of underwhelming effort.

Adam hadn’t said her name when he'd been inside her. 

Not once.

Lute lay there, dress around her waist, heartbeat aching in her ears. The pressure in her core felt unbearable. Unsatisfied arousal and bone-deep shame twisted together in her gut until she couldn’t breathe.

“No need to thank me,” he panted, rolling onto his back beside her. “Trust me, I know I rocked your world.”

He flopped back onto the bed, snoring within seconds.

Lute stayed still for a long, miserable stretch, hoping sleep would help erase this terrible mistake. Arousal, sharp and immediate, coiled in her core. The demon had gotten her riled up, and Adam hadn't gotten her off. 

"Looks like another cold shower for you, Lute," she muttered to herself. "I guess some things never change."

Chapter Text

Lute stood hunched in the shower, letting the water pound into her back like the lash she deserved. She didn't reach for the knob, even as the scalding spray stung her skin and set her bruises to throbbing. Faint purple smudges had begun to bloom across her ribs, her thighs, her wrists.

"They're just fucking bruises," she muttered to herself. "Get a grip." 

She'd had worse in training. From Adam, even. He'd been the first man to teach her how to throw a punch. He'd seen something in her when no one else would give her a chance. He'd made her his second-in-command. That meant he trusted her. Valued her as a warrior and a woman.

Right?

Maybe he's always like that when he's drunk. He just wasn't himself. He'll apologize in the morning.

For what, though? Fucking her? She'd told him she wanted it. She thought she had wanted it until it was happening. 

Lute pressed her palms and forehead flat against the blessedly cool tile, trying to keep her mind clear. Adam's voice always crept in to ruin it. 

"That's it. Knew you'd love my cock."

And she should have. Lute had writhed alone in her room, green with envy when he took any other Winner back to his place. She'd imagined herself in his arms a thousand times before. 

She wanted to salvage it. Tried to relieve the ache with an old fantasy. Her favorite, the one that always worked. Confession. Kneeling at his feet. Admitting how often she touched herself to thoughts of him. He always rewarded her. Exalted her lust. Made it holy by the consummation of desire. It couldn't be wrong if it felt so good, right?

But the memory curdled now. The pressure of his hands didn’t feel commanding or corrective. It felt sloppy. Like she was a box he'd mishandled and left crumpled on the ground.

Lute shuddered, the steam prickling her face, and tried again, slower this time. A hand between her thighs, a desperate bid to feel something good. She could almost see him again, leaning in-

No.

The heat in her belly was doused by cold nausea. She swallowed hard, hating the silence that followed. It roared in her ears, an absence of care that made her stomach heave. Her pulse kept throwing rabbit punches at her ribs.

She couldn't come. Not with the reality of it bearing her down on her. He'd barely kissed her. Hadn't said her name. His only nod to foreplay was to stick his fingers in her, as though testing the temperature of a pool he wanted to slip into.

Lute's hands balled into fists on the tile, knuckles creaking with the effort it took not to pound the shower wall into powder.

It had to be her fault, somehow. She'd messed it up. Built it up in her head so much that anything but her fantasy would be a disappointment. It wasn't his fault that she'd expected him to sweep in like an action hero and bowl her off her feet. 

But when Lute tried to picture softness and care, she couldn't picture Adam's face. It was softer, sweeter. Flushed magenta skin, lightly dewed with sweat. Curvy hips. A similar, swaggering confidence undercut by a gentleness that Adam lacked. She wondered what the glossed lips might taste like. What might have happened if she'd given in to the impulse to kiss the sweetly scented skin above her collarbone after Verosika gathered her into her arms? 

Her stomach turned traitorously warm before she could stop it. She jerked her hand away as though she’d touched a live wire.

No. She couldn't get off to thoughts of a demon. And worse, a woman.

But Lute's traitorous body didn't care that it was a betrayal of everything she'd ever been or believed. The heat in her belly surged and unspooled. It only took a single brush of her thighs to send it spilling over. Her back arched. Her thighs trembled, and a thin cry escaped her throat. She wasn't sure if it was a scream of release or protest. She bit her lip hard enough to taste iron, the tears coming hard and fast now, hot as the water sluicing down her skin.

When Lute finally shut off the tap, the room fell silent except for her shivering. She wiped her eyes on the towel, catching sight of herself in the mirror. Red eyes. Wet hair. Bruises. No halo.

By the time she stepped out of the bathroom, Adam was snoring like a chainsaw. She drifted like a ghost to the side of the bed and watched him for a long time. Physically, he was perfect. The pinnacle of masculinity, a masterpiece sculpted by God's own hand. He'd been designed to be the ideal partner. 

And Lute could only get off when she thought of a goddamn succubus.

Which meant that it had to be her. She was broken. Corrupted by this place and these people. Maybe this humiliation was what she deserved. 

Lute curled into a ball beside Adam when he moved closer, flinging an arm around her waist. He pulled her close, like she was his favorite teddy bear, one hand gravitating toward her chest on reflex. His calloused hands cupped her breasts, and his groin pressed into her ass. He was semi-hard. Adam murmured something before dozing off again, leaving her tense. 

It took her a long time to relax enough to sleep. 

Chapter Text

Adam

He was used to waking up in strange beds. Sometimes he made a game of it. How long it took him to match the sheets to who they belonged to. Sometimes he remembered their names. Most of the time, he didn't. 

But he knew the scent of her hair instantly. The warm, apple blossom musk of her sweat. The way the curve of her throat tasted. How her hips slotted against his just so before she used the coiled strength of her legs to toss him across the room. Or better yet, curved them so sweetly around his hips, gasping in air. 

"Lute," he murmured. 

Adam couldn't help it. The name left his lips without his permission. He remembered this name. Would always remember it. He didn't make friends easily. He remembered the names of the ones who made it on the list. 

Lute stirred a little at the sound of his voice, but didn't wake. Her breathing was deep and even, one arm curled across her stomach, wings curled to cover herself like a baby duckling. It was ridiculously cute, and she'd punch him if she knew he'd had the thought. 

It made him smile. 

Adam brushed a damp lock of hair from her throat, hypnotized by the thrum of her pulse beneath the skin. There was a strangely tender feeling coiling in his chest, an ache he hadn't felt since the Almighty tore a rib free of his body. 

He froze, terrified by the tiny, unguarded blip of feeling. 

No. That's not what this is. We're friends who fuck. That's it. 

Adam couldn't help but shift closer anyway, pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder. She stirred, a quiet sound of want slipping from her lips. The jolt of desire that ran to his dick in reply felt like a bolt of lightning. It was always his undoing. He swore it came with the curse of the apple. He could never get enough of that fucking sound. 

He rolled her onto her back, claiming her mouth in a kiss. Slow. Warm. Teasing. Something like triumpth unfurled inside him when she yielded, going soft and pliant under his hands. It felt easy, like breathing. 

She tasted like apples. Sweet, with a bite he craved. 

When he pulled back, her eyes were wide. Adoring. Like he'd completed her whole world, just by existing. 

Adam wrapped an arm around her and drew her closer. He groaned when she snugged her tight little ass to his dick. Fucking tease. She loved how she got him hard.

“Morning, beautiful," he breathed. 

It was supposed to be a line. He wasn't supposed to mean it. Hated that she glowed from the praise.

"Sleep well?" she asked, arching her back a little in a stretch. It ground her hips against him again and he curled her closer in reply. 

"Like a fucking rock. You can take it like a champ. Should have known you'd be just as badass here as everywhere else."

For a second he though she'd burst into tears. Then she was turning in his arms, pressing all that softness against his front. 

"Want to go again?"

Yeah. That’s the problem.

He couldn't afford to need her. Nothing promised to him ever came true. Not Lilith. Not Eve. If she was like them she would leave. 

"Later," he promised. "I got a better idea. See, you looked so fucking hot last night that it got me thinking. You should dress up more. Show off that rockin' bod. We'll go out. Get you something sexy to wear on my arm tonight.”

Lute's expression was softer than he'd ever seen it. "Really?"

“Sure,” he said, brushing a thumb down her cheek. “Gotta show you off before Verosika steals you again.”

Lute kissed him again, quick, eager, and squirming before whispering, “Yes, Sir.”

The words hit him somewhere deep. He laughed to hide it. “Should’ve known you’d be a kinky bitch. Wanna pick up handcuffs while we're out?”

She blushed. He grinned. There. It was easy again. Safe.

And if part of him wanted to keep it that way forever, so what? The friendship, the closeness, the control. He told himself that it wasn't selfish. That it was love, in the only way it didn't hurt. 

Chapter Text

Adam

The night was going fan-fucking-tastic so far, and it was only set to get better. Going out with Lute was possibly the best idea he'd had this decade. Maybe even this century. It was easy, like riding a fucking bike. She knew every place he liked to go. Laughed at every joke. Looked unfairly good in the dress he'd picked out for her.

He'd picked out the little strapless number as a joke, expecting her to balk. Lute didn't go shopping much with the other girls, and when she did, she usually picked something modest. When she'd come out of the dressing room, cheeks glowing faintly pink, he hadn't been able to help himself. Before he could think, he had her pressed up against the mirror, skirt hiked up around her hips so that he could run his hands over the gorgeous curves of her thighs. 

The black satin panties she'd put on were soaked. He would have taken her up against the wall, if it wouldn't have gotten them kicked out. He liked their jackets well enough to leave the place unchristened. 

For now.

Lute had kissed him back like she was starving, grinding against his front in a manner that should have damned her and sent her to hell all over again. It was that fucking sexy. Adam wasn't sure how he'd failed to notice up to this point. 

Now she moved through the crowd with the same reckless joy, bright and golden under the flashing lights. Adam’s hands found her hips on instinct. Her ass fit perfectly in his palms. He kissed the hollow under her throat when she wriggled playfully in his grip.

"Having fun, beautiful?" he murmured into her ear. Lute actually shivered when he pulled her earlobe between his teeth.

She melted into him with a soft little sigh, wings trembling. For a second, it felt like the world had aligned exactly right. Like maybe he wasn’t going to screw this up.

Then she froze.

Adam followed her line of sight to the stage and spotted the headlining act. He grinned. He'd heard from Angel Dust that Lute's girlfriend would be performing here tonight. 

Verosika Mayday, pop sensation and one of Lust's most sought-after pin-ups. He grinned, nudged Lute with his shoulder.

“Hey, look at that. Bonus show. Told you this place is badass.”

Lute swallowed hard. “I didn't know she was performing here." 

"Guess we're just lucky, huh? Great tunes. Great drinks. Great vibes."

He kissed her cheek, hoping that the small smile she'd been wearing all night would return. It flickered back to life when she glanced up at him. The tension eased out of her shoulders. Good. She was fine. They were fine.

Lute pressed in closer, her fingertips drawing lazy circles on his shoulders, breath warm on his throat. He wanted her. Hell, he wanted her now. Tonight. Upstairs. Back at the hotel. Right fucking here on the dance floor. Anywhere. As long as she kept moving like that.

He leaned down, lips brushing her jaw. “After this, we can head back. You know. If you want. It's my turn to pick the movie we all watch, and I'm screening horror. I need someone who isn't a weenie to give me feedback on what'll offend the Princess's sensibilities. So I can do it. A lot."

She grinned. "That sounds like fun. When we're through with that, maybe we can pick up where we left off in the dressing room." 

Adam's pulse sped. Then, without thinking about it, he jerked his chin toward the stage. "Maybe we can rope V in. Two hot chicks alone in a hotel room with me? That's got possibilities."

Lute went still. Not stiff. Not startled.

Still.

Like a deer, limbs frozen stiff with horror, even as a car barreled toward it with lethal intent. It took a full two seconds before she stepped back. Her wings hunched like she was trying to hide them. Her eyes were huge and too shiny. 

She was about to cry. Shit. What the hell? He hadn't said anything wrong!

“What?” Adam tried to joke. “Come on, I’m kidding. Mostly. Solo is fine."

Lute's expression twisted. Her lip trembled. She looked at him in mute betrayal, just like Eve had in the Garden. Like she couldn't believe the words that had come out of his mouth.

“You asshole,” she whispered, so quietly he almost didn’t hear it over the music. “You absolute fucking asshole.”

Adam blinked, taking a step back. The hurt seized him suddenly and unexpectedly. He hadn't done anything that deserved this kind of reaction. She was being moody for no fucking reason, damn it.

“Don’t.” Her voice cracked. She shoved his hand away when he reached for her. “Just...don't."

Adam felt the embarrassment sting his skin like heat. People were looking. He hated that. Hated everyone looking at him like he'd made a mistake. God did that constantly. So did Sera. Lilith. Eve. All of them did it. Most of all, he hated the twist in his stomach that felt suspiciously like guilt.

“What’s your problem?” he snapped, more defensive than angry.

She laughed. Bitter, disbelieving, wounded. “You don’t get to treat me like a joke, Adam. You don’t get to drag me out here just to flaunt how little I matter. And you sure as hell don’t get to take me back to the hotel and use me like a toy.”

He felt that one. Deep.

“Lute, what the hell are you talking about? It’s a compliment! I thought you’d like this. I mean, we all saw you on the dance floor. You practically creamed in your pants when she was touching you. It was hot. I just want you to feel good. I'm being generous when you really think about it."

“I don’t want to hear what you thought.” Tears streaked down her cheeks now. She didn’t bother to hide them. “Get lost. I don’t want to look at you.”

Adam stared, chest tight, shame prickling under his ribs. The spot where the missing one should have been tingled unpleasantly. This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go. She was being ridiculous. Oversensitive. Emotional.

But the thing that gutted him was the look on her face. Like he'd just taken her heart out and stomped on it. They were friends. She was treating this like it was something else.

“Fine,” he growled. “I’ll go. Meet me at the hotel when you’re done being a bitch.”

Her gasp punched him in the gut.

He almost apologized.

Almost.

But then his pride snapped back in place like armor, and he stormed off into the crowd.

He didn’t look back.

Chapter Text

Lute didn't remember wading through the crowd. She just felt small and bruised by the time she'd navigated the sea of knees and elbows. She sank down into the bench of a corner booth with a sound that was half-gasp, half-sob. Her head bowed, and she scrubbed at her face, trying to stem the humiliating flow of tears. It was no use. Her throat was trying to constrict around a knot of rage and hurt. 

She'd been stupid to think it had been anything more than a drunken fling. Of course he'd left. He'd obviously noticed how much of a pervert she was. Even more galling, he seemed keen to poke at it, like it was a toy. He'd acted like he was being fucking generous by adding another woman.

"Asshole," she muttered to her clenched fists.

The worst part? She'd actually deluded herself into being happy tonight. Adam looked at her like she was beautiful. Desirable. Worth his notice. Then he'd opened his stupid mouth and reminded her exactly who she was dealing with. 

Adam didn't like her. He liked parts of her. The same parts he liked on every other woman. 

"I'm not a fucking fleshlight," she hissed.

"What was that?" a warm, sultry voice asked.

A manicured hand set down a pair of pink, bubbling drinks with a soft clink. A moment later, the lushly proportioned succubus was squeezing her ample dimensions into the booth across from Lute. 

“I saw your little spat from the stage," she said, lifting the glass to her lips. They wrapped around the rim with far too much erotic promise.

Lute choked on a bitter laugh and grabbed the remaining drink, tossing it back in one go. It was sweet and tickled on the way down. 

“You,” she snapped before she could think. “It was about you.”

Verosika blinked once, then laughed, low and delighted. 

“My, I must be something special. I wasn’t even near you. How’d I start a fight from twenty feet away?”

“He suggested…” Lute began. She struggled to form the rest. It was just so fucking humiliating. “He suggested we… rope you into things.”

Verosika’s lips quirked in understanding. “Ah. Those kinds of things. It's like I told you at the hotel. He's the type of man who will never believe a woman is capable of getting herself or anyone else off. It's not official if there's no dick involved. How was that, by the way? I saw him stagger upstairs after you, so I assumed you smashed."

Shame crawled up her spine, hot and ugly. She stared longingly at her glass, ardently wishing for a refill. 

Verosika whistled. "That bad, huh?" 

Fresh tears streaked down Lute's face. She batted at them furiously. She shouldn't be crying in front of a demon for God's sake. The tears only came harder when the easy smirk faded into something like concern. 

"Oh...sweetie, what happened?" 

"It was...too fast. Didn't take my clothes off. Didn't say my name. Barely looked at me. Came inside without asking, then rolled over and went to bed." 

Verosika leaned back, studying her. For a moment, something compassionate flickered in her expression, softened by the stage makeup still glittering on her cheeks.

“Did he hurt you?" she asked, voice too soft. It was the sort of tone you took with victims. She wasn't that pathetic. 

"It's nothing I can't handle." 

"But you shouldn't have to handle anything," Verosika insisted. "Kinky fun is all well and good, but you have to want the pain. There's a difference between a spanking and an asshole who sticks it in dry because he thinks foreplay is beneath him."

More tears fell. Lute choked on fresh sobs. This was so fucking mortifying. Sobbing because the man she wanted hadn't wanted her. Hadn't even cared enough to make sure she was ready before he used her.

"When I said no to a threesome, he called me a bitch and left." 

"What a dick," Verosika said, flagging down a waiter. 

Verosika ordered another pair of pink drinks and slid the second toward Lute. She took it gratefully, sipping this one slowly. She let Lute's sobs wind down to occasional sniffles before she spoke again. 

"So, do you want to make him pay for it?" she asked.

Lute blinked. “What?”

“I said, 'What do you want to make him pay for it?'” Her mouth curved into a wicked smile. “Because I'm always down to make toxic men suffer. I have a plan, if you're interested."

“I'm...listening."

Verosika leaned in until their noses were almost touching. Lute's head felt a little fuzzy, and she couldn't tell if it was the booze or the honeyed scent of Verosika's perfume. 

“We get good and drunk, dance until you're too dizzy to stand, and then we stagger back to your hotel room. We go upstairs, and we don't invite Adam." 

“I’m not sleeping with you!” Lute hissed, heat burning its way up the back of her neck at the very notion.

Verosika laughed, flicking her hair back. “Calm down, angelcakes. You don’t have to fuck me. You just have to let him think you fucked me. He won't be able to stand seeing you having good sex with someone else. Act nice and satisfied, and he'll never have to know we just passed out in bed together."

Lute hesitated. The idea felt petty. Dramatic. Messy.

It also felt… good.

"And tomorrow morning," Verosika continued in that same conspiratorial tone. “I stroll into breakfast wearing one of your shirts and a pair of your panties. Nothing overt. Nothing scandalous. Just enough to let Adam’s tiny brain fill in the blanks.”

Lute covered her face with her hands. “That’s evil.”

“Thank you.” Verosika raised her glass in salute. “Selfish pricks like him deserve a little comeuppance." 

Lute hesitated again, longer, this time. Her mind warred with her pride. With her hurt. With the hollow space beneath her ribs that ached with every beat of her heart.

Finally, she swallowed and whispered, “Okay.”

Verosika grinned. “Excellent. Let’s get trashed."

Chapter Text

"Men are assholes," Verosika said for the umpteenth time. 

Lute didn't bother to remind her she'd said some variation of that every twenty minutes for the last few hours. She just raised her glass with a muttered, "Amen, sister," and tipped back another fruity cocktail. This one tasted vaguely like pear and honey.

"Can't count on them for anything," Verosika continued, flagging down the waiter with increasingly uncoordinated motions. 

She had to be halfway to hammered already, with all she'd imbibed, if not already at her destination. Lute was finally beginning to feel pleasantly buzzed. It had lowered her inhibitions enough to allow Verosika to squeeze into her side of the booth. It wasn't like their little deception was going to work well if she kept the succubus at arm's length. 

"Can't count on them to notice your haircut," Lute said. 

"Or your new outfit," Verosika added. "Or buy you something thoughtful. Or make you come, even after you do every goddamn thing they want in bed."

"Is it any better with girls?" Lute asked, the question slipping out before she could stop it. She felt heat rise to her face and tried to cover the lapse with a sip of the stuff Verosika called Beelzejuice. 

If Verosika had noticed her discomfort, she didn't let it show. She just leaned back against the padded back of the booth with a sigh. 

"I mean, the sex is usually better, but on a personal level, it can be just as big a disaster. Men are stupid. Women can be mean."

Lute shifted in her seat, ears going hot. She tried not to look too invested, but the subtle way her shoulders tensed betrayed her.

“You okay?” Verosika asked, arching a brow. "You look like you're going to melt into a puddle, sweetie."

“Yeah, totally fine,” Lute muttered, trying to keep her voice casual.

Verosika’s grin softened, perceptive as ever. “Bullshit. You're curious about it. It's okay if you want to ask questions. I don't mind spilling the tea if you really want to know."

Lute couldn't meet that knowing gaze. She circled the rim of her glass instead, dearly wishing the drink could provide answers she wanted. You know, instead of the demon she'd metaphorically hopped into bed with.

"I don't need the details," Lute said quickly. "It's just...I guess I don't get how it all...works." 

"Without a dick, you mean?" Verosika asked with a light laugh. "If you think that's all sex is, you're missing out on all the best parts. So much of what gets a girl off is done before anything even goes inside, be that a finger, a tongue, or a cock. Guys think that if it doesn't involve a penis, it doesn't count. My ex, Blitzo, was like that. Loved oral but never reciprocated. Thought he was really something special for the ten minutes he could keep it up. And sadly, he was better than some of the other men I've had the displeasure to date. With the girls..." 

Verosika closed her eyes, a soft smile gracing her lips. "I had a lot better time with girls. They tend to check in. Pay attention to the way you move, the way you breathe, the look on your face that says you're close. And it can last for hours if your partner knows what she's doing."

Lute’s breath hitched despite herself. "That's not...I've never had it last like that. Not with anyone." 

"Because you've only been with men, am I right?" 

Lute nodded, shoulders hunching defensively. "Three. Four now, I guess, after Adam." 

She'd half-expected to be called a filthy hypocrite. It was a larger number than most of her fellow exorcists. Relationships were discouraged, and sex was supposed to be reserved for people you truly loved. But to her surprise, Verosika laughed. 

"Only four? No wonder you're so bound up inside. I wondered where that knot of pent-up lust was coming from. I think I found the culprit. You haven't had an orgasm with a partner for years, have you? Have any of them ever made you finish?" 

"One," Lute said in a small voice. "About a decade ago. It's usually just me and a toy."

And that should have been enough. The fantasies should have satisfied her. The sex with Adam was supposed to soothe the ache between her legs, not leave her sad and unsatisfied. 

Verosika gave her an assessing look before leaning in, sliding a gentle hand over her knee. Lute jerked away instinctively, choking on a sip of her beelzejuice. 

"What are you doing?" 

"Making an offer," Verosika said quietly. "I can help you, if you want. Like I did on the dance floor. I didn't mean to make you...Well, you know. Your need reacted with my aura, and it sort of...happened. But I could do it on purpose. Use my power to get you off. Just a little touching. No sex. Unless you want that." 

Lute tried to breathe. Why was the air so muggy all of a sudden? The smell of something illicit was fogging her brain, making it hard to think. Or maybe that was just the hand resting on the bend of her leg. 

"I've already come in front of a group of strangers once. I don't think I'd enjoy a repeat performance." 

Verosika withdrew her hand without rancor. "You'd be surprised. Lots of people like to be watched." 

"Not me." 

The demoness accepted that with an easy shrug and lapsed into quiet thought. Or maybe she'd finally drowned the last of her brain cells with her dozenth cocktail. Dealers' choice, really.

"So," she said at last. "What are the rules?"

Lute blinked. “Rules?”

“You know,” Verosika said, swirling her drink. “I’m gonna be helping you make Adam squirm, right? I need to know where I can touch and where I can’t. Even if we’re not actually… doing anything, I don’t want to accidentally overstep.”

Lute’s stomach performed odd contortions at the thought. Yes, she'd technically agreed to this, but hearing it put that bluntly made her want to sprint in the opposite direction. She couldn’t seriously be considering this. Kissing a woman. A demon, all to get back at Adam for hurting her feelings. That was insane, right?

"I don't understand," Lute said quietly. 

"There's a difference between planting one on you in front of him and playing grab-ass in the lobby. Just how involved do you want the charade to be?"

"I..." Lute tried to clear her throat. It didn't help. Her mouth still felt too dry. Her throat felt tight. Panic, maybe. "How far do you want to go?" 

Verosika grinned well...devilishly. "Trust me, you don't want me setting the limits, angelcakes. I'd go down on you under this booth if I thought you'd be game. You may not like being watched, but I do."

Lute could feel her face burning. It only made Verosika lean in closer, brushing her fingers lightly over the sweep of Lute's cheekbone. 

"It's so pretty when angels blush," she said softly, almost speaking to herself. "All that golden blood running under your skin makes you look like a fucking goddess when you're flushed. Makes me wonder what you look like when you come." 

Lute's thighs clenched so hard it hurt. Heat seared through her veins, and a soft, breathless sound of want escaped her before she could stop it. She could only watch helplessly as the demon leaned closer, scenting the shameful arousal like a hound after wounded prey. Verosika's lips were close enough to taste when Lute's tongue flicked out to wet her own.

"Hmm. Like the idea, do you?" 

"Well, it's been ten years," Lute shot back. "Pretty much anyone will do, as long as they actually get me there. Even you." 

Verosika leaned away with a soft chuckle. "Fair enough. But my question stands. Is kissing okay?" 

"Yes." 

It was harmless enough. She'd kissed plenty of people, and this one meant less than most. It was a means to an end. She could live with kissing a woman if it meant wiping that arrogant look from Adam's face. 

"Groping? Tits? Ass?" 

Lute hesitated. "Ass is fine." 

There was something just too intimate about having someone's hands or mouth on her breasts. She should have made Adam earn that privilege. Maybe then he'd have spent more than a handful of minutes kneading them like bread. 

"Super. What about stripping off clothes?" 

"Not in public. Though I guess we can leave them in the hallway outside of my room when we get back. To make it look authentic."

Verosika tapped her nose with a triumphant smirk. "Now you're thinking. Final question. Do we practice before we get there, or are we improving this shit when we walk through the doors?"

Lute’s eyes widened. “Practice? You mean..." 

She gestured helplessly between them. Verosika caught her hand and slowly, deliberately, raised her wrist to her mouth. The sensation of her full lips and teeth closing over Lute's pulse made her squeak. 

"We'll call a cab. Make out in the back. Easier to sell it if we look like we've done this before." 

Lute swallowed hard, a mixture of nerves and anticipation coiling in her gut. It was logical. So why was she so damn scared? Why did she want to go now, leaving their order only half-drunk. 

"Just kissing?" she checked.

Verosika's head dipped, her lips brushing against Lute’s in a light, teasing kiss. Lute gasped, a soft moan escaping before she could stop it. Verosika's tongue tasted like fucking candy when it slid against hers. The demoness' hands found Lute's waist, tugging her half onto her lap. She smelled almost as good as she tasted, the honeyed scent layered like icing over her skin. Lute had the intense urge to lick her skin, just to see if it tasted as delicious as the rest of her.  

"Unless you say you want more," Verosika whispered against her mouth when she pulled back. 

"You won't be pissed if I turn you down in the room?" 

"Honey, kissing you on the ride back will more than make my night." 

And somehow, for once, Lute believed that. 

Chapter Text

Lute was pretty sure the last occupant of the cab had pissed in it. The smell of cheap air freshener didn't entirely disguise the bite of ammonia and shame. 

Verosika had scooted close, but hadn't done the arm-over-the-shoulder thing that Adam insisted on. She usually liked that move. It made her feel petite and feminine, despite the physique she'd built up over the years. Though she felt positively butch when she compared her build to Verosika's. She looked like a hundred and fifty pounds of pure sex appeal, and twenty of it was shoved into her gravity-defying rack. Lute hadn't conceived of curves like that until she'd entered this godawful place. The Pride Ring blurred past the window, a sea of neon and depravity. 

Lute had folded herself as tightly as an origami crane, hands arranged stiffly in her lap, and her wings pinned tight to her back. The dress Adam had picked out suddenly felt entirely inadequate. She was going to tussle with a demon, and she had no armor. It was just asking for trouble.

"I don't bite unless you pay extra," Verosika teased. 

"That's not funny." 

"It's hilarious. I heard you were a badass demon killer, and you can't even look me in the eye. It's just a kiss, sweetie. I don't think I can suck out an angel's soul through her orifices, but I'm willing to give it a try." 

Lute glowered at her. "You're not making the idea of kissing you any more appealing, demon." 

"And you look so damn cute when you squirm, angel. It makes scandalizing you fun." 

"Could you just get on with it already? I thought we were supposed to practice."

Verosika shrugged, shifting more than just the fur wrap she'd draped over her shoulder. Her bosoms wobbled precariously, coming perilously close to escaping the confines of her dress. 

"You want it, come get it, angelcakes. Unless you're too pussy to kiss a succubus?" 

Lute was ashamed to say it was the juvenile taunt that made her lunge across the space toward the demon. 

She fully intended to bite when their lips met, but Verosika's hand came up to cup the curve of her jaw, grip gentle but sure. The succubus guided her chin up, angling their lips perfectly. No awkward mashing of noses or clashing teeth. The curve of her full lower lip teased Lute's mouth, coaxing her lips open. Lute tasted her breath. Felt her insides move like molten rock when Verosika's hands settled on her waist, tugging her closer. 

Lute was almost embarrassed by the position she found herself in. Her dress had ended up somewhere around her waist because she'd straddled the succubus. She hadn't even been aware she'd done it. One moment, she was sucking on her tongue, and the next, she was flashing her underwear for Verosika and the driver to see.

"You hiked my dress up," she accused. 

Verosika let out a wicked laugh. "Did not. That was all you, sweetheart. You need to get laid, stat. I'm good, but I shouldn't be stealing angels' panties good."

"You aren't," Lute shot back. "They happen to have stayed on." 

"Kiss me again, and we'll remedy that." 

"Oh, get over yourself," Lute muttered before pressing herself close once more.

Veroskia was right about at least one thing. She needed to get lucky with someone if just kissing a demon was getting her off. She'd find someone other than Adam. Someone who'd at least give a damn. She'd enjoy good dick again.

She just had to punish Adam first. 

Verosika's mouth sought hers, hot and hungry. She thankfully kept her kisses confined to Lute's face, her throat, and the line of her shoulders. True to her word, she hadn't used Lute's distraction to cop a feel of her chest. It was strangely honorable...for a demon. 

Verosika palmed her ass hard enough to make her squeak. Lute couldn't contain a groan when the motion rolled her aching core against the curve of Verosika's thigh. Lute couldn't help a helpless sound of pleasure when that small spark of friction lit a pilot light of desire in her belly. She was so shamefully wet, and for once she didn't give a fuck what anyone thought of it. She just wanted.

"I want to come," Lute murmured against her mouth. "You said you could do it without fucking me. Well, I haven't had an orgasm with a person for a decade. You said you could do it, and I want to come. So are you going to get me off or what?" 

Verosika's pupils had blown so wide that Lute could almost see her reflection in the glassy dark. She'd never looked more alien. Or more beautiful. 

"Mmm. Bossy. I like it. What's your pleasure, ma'am? Hard and fast? The kind that hurts a little? Slow, rolling, full-body? Or do you want me to have to gag you before you come so the pentagram doesn't hear you scream?" 

Lute's thighs clenched hard, and she nearly saw stars. Just the menu of possible pleasures was overwhelming. 

"Hard and fast." 

Because it was the only way that it didn't feel like more than what it was. If Verosika took her like Adam, it made it no different. 

Verosika considered her for a moment before shaking her hand. "You need slow." 

Lute tried to squirm off her lap. "If you're not going to listen-" 

"I'll listen. I'm just not going to hurt you, sweetheart. You've had enough of that in your life. Let people kiss you like you matter, Lute." 

Her eyes pricked, and she had to turn her head away to hide fresh tears. Verosika didn't argue when she wiggled back into her seat and stared out the window. The demon's soft sigh wasn't disappointed. She almost sounded...worried. 

"I know it's rich, given what we're going to the Hotel to do, but I think you should give the therapy part a try. It could do you some good. If you don't deal with the parts you repress, they deal with you." 

"I asked you for an orgasm, not a psych eval."

"I'll fuck you if you want, angelcakes. That's not the issue here. I don't think you'd like the fallout if I did, though." 

"You're that bad, huh?" Lute sneered. 

"No, I'd give you what you really want in bed. It's how I'm built. I'll walk away fine. You'll walk away with questions that you're not ready to answer." 

"What questions?" 

"Like, why are her tits so amazing? And, why do I want to sit on her face?" 

Lute's cheeks burned. "Oh fuck you." 

"Someday," Verosika purred as they pulled to a stop outside the Hotel. "When you're less squeamish, maybe. For now, we have an audience to wow. You ready to knock him on his ass?" 

Back to kissing instead of coming. It felt almost jarringly tame after what she'd asked for on the way over. 

"As I'll ever be."

Chapter Text

Adam

"What the fuck do you even call this drink?" Adam muttered around the rim of his glass. 

He didn't care that it was one of those girly drinks that Lute would have preferred. It contained gin, which made it good enough for Adam. Angel had tossed back five in the time it had taken Adam to down two. His mind was finally starting to glaze, easing the hurt that had begun just under his ribs. The booze meant he could forget her. 

Lute. She wasn't supposed to hurt too, damn it. 

Maybe it was his fault, a little. He shouldn't have called her a bitch. He should have just shut his mouth and taken it. Maybe then she would have stayed. But as usual, he could only ever fuck things up. 

"Need an even harder Harder Daddy?" Angel asked, waving Husk over to their side of the bar. "You look like shit." 

"So do you," Adam shot back. 

Angel chuckled and circled the rim of his glass with a finger. "Maybe, but I got an excuse. I was on a shoot for eighteen hours. I've had sixteen cocks inside me. And the less you know about the toys, the better." 

Adam shuddered. "Fine, you win. You've had the shittier night." 

Angel gave him a smirk and a mock bow. "But since I'm a giving soul, I'm down here talking with you idiots, not sulking in my room. I saw you on my way back from work. Lute looked hot. Happy. So what gives?"

"I don't want to talk about it," he muttered. 

Angel nodded sagely. "Ah, lovers' spat. What'd you say to piss her off? I thought for sure you'd be out until dawn partying and fuckin'."

The words hit him like a slap. Because that's exactly what was supposed to happen. He and Lute had been having fun. She'd looked hot and so damn fuckable it was hard not to take her right there in public.

"I made a joke. She overreacted. She'll come back when she cools off."

Angel scoffed. "Don't be so sure. One joke can fuck a whole relationship." 

"We're not in a relationship," Adam snapped. "Lute and I are fuck-buddies. That's it." 

Angel and Husk exchanged a knowing glance. He wanted to shake them and demand to know what it all meant. No one ever gave him a straight answer. Not once. Not God. Not Lilith. Not Eve. Not one fucking person would ever tell him what he did wrong and how to fix it.

“Angel!” Charlie’s voice floated from the couch, where she and Vaggie were curled under a blanket, watching some black-and-white film. She paused the TV with a huff. “Stop pestering Adam. The fight is clearly bothering him."

“I'm not..." Adam tried. He stopped mid-sentence. Even he didn't buy it. He heaved a sigh. "Okay, yeah, it upset me. She's my friend. I don't know what I did wrong, and she wouldn't tell me."

Charlie leaned forward, earnest concern on her face. “Are you two fighting? It’s okay if you are! We literally have conflict mediation in the curriculum next week. I’d be happy to walk you both through some techniques.”

“No,” Adam said sharply. “Nobody needs to walk us through anything. We’ll be fine as soon as she calms down. Lute's reasonable. She'll come around."

Vaggie glanced over the back of the couch, unimpressed. “If you really believe that, you're a fucking idiot."

“Get the fuck out of my business,” Adam snapped before he could stop himself. The words landed harder than he intended, but he didn’t take them back.

Charlie wilted a little. "I'm sorry, Adam. I didn't mean to make things worse." 

"It's not..." Adam shoved a hand into his hair with a sound of frustration. He slammed the Hardest Daddy back with a groan. "Lute's my friend. I didn't mean to fuck it up by fucking her, you know. I thought we were both good with the way things were. Why did it have to change anything? She's still my friend, right?"

Charlie's face softened. He never understood how she managed to look more like an angel than the literal seraphim he'd spent an eternity with. The cherubic set of her face, paired with those big doe eyes, made her look impossibly sweet. It shouldn't have been possible, given who her parents were.

"Oh, Adam, no. Sex does change things. It's a big thing to let someone inside your body. It crosses all kinds of boundaries. It's why you should talk about it before you do it with someone for the first time. You thought you were being fuck-buddies. Did she think that's what it was?" 

Adam's mind chugged along slowly, horror dawning on him at the thought. Lute didn't want to be his friend. She wanted to be his wife. To matter like they mattered. 

And he couldn't do it. He couldn't give that to another woman. Never again. 

"I..." Adam began. 

He wasn't sure what he would have said next. The front doors swung open. Adam's heart lurched into overdrive. He couldn't face her. Couldn't have the talk that would destroy everything. Not when his mind was soaked in gin. It would be even more excruciating sober. Maybe he'd just find a nice corner to stare at for the next few months while he figured out how the fuck things had gone so out of control. 

Lute stepped inside. Verosika Mayday tripped along in her wake, flushed and giggling. Her dress was riding up around her thighs, flashing her lace thong to the room when she moved. 

Adam froze, seized by simultaneous fascination and horror as they moved against each other. Verosika leaned in and whispered something in Lute's ear, and her cheeks flushed a molten, impossible gold as she blushed in reply. She was practically glowing, like someone had lit a fire inside her. She dazzled the eyes. 

Veoriska tugged her closer, hands sliding to the small of Lute's back with predatory grace. He half expected her to shove the demoness away. Instead, she melted into Verosika, curves melding together into a vision of soft, ripe temptation. He nearly came in his pants when Verosika guided her thigh between Lute's, nudging her dress enough to expose the panties Lute was wearing. He had the sudden and intense urge to yank them off. He'd never seen her look hotter. Golden and glowing. Alive with desire. 

“Hey!” Vaggie sputtered, sitting bolt upright as the two women stumbled closer to the couch. “We’re sitting here!”

Verosika broke the kiss just long enough to murmur, “I wanna see if you taste as good as you smell, angelcakes.”

Adam’s brain short-circuited. Charlie’s mouth fell open like someone had blown a hole through the nearest wall. Vaggie looked like she was about to pass out. Husk didn’t even look up from his drink. Angel whistled.

“Daaamn,” he said, delighted. "Drama."

Verosika grabbed Lute by the hips, pulled her toward the stairs, and the two of them tumbled upward in a tangle of wings, curves, and intoxicated laughter.

Adam didn’t move. Couldn’t move.

All he could do was watch the last flick of Lute’s feathers vanish at the top of the steps, hear the echo of her drunken giggles, and feel the universe tilt under his feet.

Lute had followed her without hesitation, stumbling, laughing, glowing. Happy. She looked so...happy. 

Why couldn't he ever do that for them?

Silence swallowed the room. Adam looked at the front door, then the couch where they’d been, then the stairs again, as if the pieces would rearrange into something that made sense.

When his voice came, it was thin and strangled with envy.

“What the fuck was that?”

Chapter Text

Lute half-expected to be mauled the second she stepped through the door of her room. Adam had been on her from almost the second he entered, shoving his hands under her dress and his tongue in her mouth. Verosika let her go the moment the door clicked shut behind them. She had to steady Lute when she swayed, punch drunk from the alcohol and the brain-bending kisses. 

"You okay there?" Verosika asked with a light laugh. "You're not about to barf or anything, are you?"   

"I can hold my liquor just fine," Lute said defensively, but even she could hear the way the vowels rounded at the edges. "I'm not going to puke." 

"Good, because that would totally ruin the mood." 

Now that the door had closed and Adam's shocked expression was firmly in her rearview mirror, Lute was beginning to wonder what she'd just invited into her room. It had sounded good in theory. Make Adam regret taking her for granted. But she'd neglected to consider the logistics of actually sharing the room with the succubus. It wasn't like she could force the demon to sleep on the ground. Stupid, well-meaning Charlie would do bed checks at some point, and the jig would be up. 

But sharing a bed with Verosika sounded like an equally bad idea. Lute's core was already aching. She'd embarrassed herself in the cab on the way back by asking her to use that unnatural demon power to make her come. It was blasphemy of the highest order. No wonder she'd been sent to hell. 

Verosika shrugged and kicked off her heels, arranging the six-inch stilettos neatly by the door before casually stripping her dress off in one move. It left her in a pair of nearly sheer lace underwear and a matching bra that barely contained her...proportions. Lute could only watch, mouth dry, as she bundled the dress up, opened the door, and tossed it casually into the hall before closing it again.

"Want me to slingshot the thong out there, too?" Verosika teased, sashaying over to Lute's dresser. "I'm sure someone will take it by morning. Adam, to fap over it. Or Angel, to sell it online. It'll go for a pretty penny." 

"Because it touched your ass?" Lute sneered. 

"Because it has my scent on it. You wouldn't believe what people will pay to watch me come. Or to have me come on something of theirs. As a keepsake." 

Lute wrinkled her nose. "That level of interest in a pop star is just...creepy." 

"Agreed, but it's part of the game. Want me to toss the panties out there?" 

Lute shook her head. "Keep your underpants on." 

Verosika trilled another laugh, plucking a black satin sleep shirt from her top drawer. Like most of the things she'd bought in hell, this one had been selected to grab Adam's attention. Modest enough to make Lute feel comfortable, but racy enough that it should have grabbed at least one pair of eyes. She'd worn it and the matching sleep shorts to bed a dozen times, and he hadn't even glanced in her direction. 

Lute staggered over to the bed, kicking her own shoes off with less care than Verosika's. She didn't bother to throw the dress into the hall. Adam had already gotten an eyeful. It would have to do.

To her relief, Verosika found the shorts that matched the top and donned them as well. Lute was sure they'd split at the seams, unable to contain the force of nature that was Verosika's ass. The material held. 

Barely. 

"What do you think?" Verosika asked, striking a provocative pose. 

"That you look like sin," Lute said before she could stop herself. She wasn't sure if she meant it as a compliment or an insult. 

Verosika clearly took it as the former, because her magenta cheeks flushed to a fascinating shade of burgundy. She took a step toward Lute with a sultry smile. 

"Keep talking like that, and you'll turn me on." 

"You're already turned on," Lute shot back, hard and accusatory. "You'd fuck me right now if I let you." 

The bed dipped under Verosika's weight as she sat. She threw herself onto the bed with a grin, squirming into the mattress to get more comfortable. 

"That's the operative word, angelcakes. Let. If you'd have a good time, I'd fuck you. But you don't want me to eat it until you cry. You want this your way. So we'll do it however you're comfortable." 

Lute wasn't sure she believed Verosika. People were inherently selfish, especially in Hell. She was a demon. She was probably going to wake up performing obscene acts on the succubus. That's how their powers worked.

"You said you wanted an orgasm earlier. Do you still want that?" 

"Yeah, but I'm not sure I want it from you." 

"I already said I didn't have to fuck you to get you off. You don't seem to believe me, even though you've experienced it firsthand."

"You're right. I don't believe you." 

"Want a demonstration?" Verosika said, unmistakable challenge in her tone. "I bet you fifty bucks that I can do more to you with a kiss than Adam can with his cock." 

"Whatever," Lute said. She tried to sound confident, but the words came out breathless.

“Lay back."

Two words. Soft as velvet. As tempting as sin. 

Lute froze. She wasn't sure if she should obey or bolt for the door. If she ran down the stairs and apologized to Adam, would it stop Verosika from looking at her like that?

"R-Rules," Lute finally managed. "You have to follow the rules." 

Verosika’s expression softened into something almost gentle. She propped her head on her hand and examined her. 

"You keep acting like I'm going to steal your virtue. I'm a predator, not a monster. I'll only tie you to the tracks if you beg me."

"You're a demon," Lute said. 

"But not a monster," Verosika countered once more. "I like my partners to be on the same page as me. So we don't go any further than you want. I'll touch you, because I'm not a statue, but your clothes stay on. Mine too."

Lute swallowed. Hard. "You promise?"

"Promise. We're just making out. Very high school. Like two drunk cheerleaders at a frat party."

That pried a startled laugh out of Lute. She didn't mean to make the sound, but it sounded too cliche to be real. She might have said something in reply, but Verosika didn't give her time to come up with one.

Verosika came to her knees in an inhumanly graceful motion. Then her hands clasped either side of her face, full lips crashing down onto Lute's with enough heat to scorch her soul. Lute’s back hit the mattress without realizing she’d moved. She couldn't help a groan when Verosika's weight settled on top of her, warm and close. Those ample hips had her pinned, and it reminded her of every humiliating drill she'd shared with some of her fellow Exorcists. The flicker of heat that came when they practiced certain positions. The shameful pang of want that had gone through her when she'd found Vaggie with one of her conquests in the barracks. She hadn't felt envy or lust like that before or since. 

Lute's hips rolled in reply, and she let out a strangled whimper. She didn't want to remember that. Didn't want to face the dark stew of feelings she'd had where Vaggie was concerned. But the daydreams came anyway. All the ones she'd tried to bury with thoughts of Adam. She'd had the same feeling then, selfish, wrathful, and overwhelming, every time she saw Vaggie arm in arm with that girl. 

I want you. You should want me back.

A thousand bursts of Vaggie's smile. The strength of her hands as her fingers locked around Lute's throat. The slender line of her neck. She'd wanted to kiss it once. The dreams where she'd fall asleep with her head pillowed on Vaggie's thigh.

And then the images shifted. Verosika's hips slotted against hers, warm and inviting. The taste of her skin. She belatedly realized she had a hand fisted in Verosika's hair and her teeth firmly lodged against her shoulder. She wasn't the only one moaning. The smoky sound of Verosika's pleasure spilled warmth through her body. Lute let out a soft, desperate cry, writhing under her. Verosika's grin was quiet, triumphant, and a little tender. She brushed a damp lock of hair off of Lute's forehead before pressing a kiss to her temple. 

"Told you that you needed slow," Verosika said. "Firsts should always be gentle."

"And what do you need?" Lute asked. The question slipped out before she could stop it. She felt her cheeks heat, but didn't take it back. 

Verosika raised a brow. "What do you mean?" 

"I mean...I feel good. I want you to feel good, too." 

The look on Verosika's face was priceless. Surprise. Pleasure. Cautious amusement. 

"Are you saying you want to return the favor?" 

Lute's voice came out small. Frightened. Not because she felt terror at the thought of being with the demon. Because she didn't. How much had this place corrupted her that she was falling into temptation with ease? 

"I don't...I don't know how to..." 

Verosika pressed a slender finger to her lips. Lute shuddered when the demon's lips replaced the finger. 

"I'm not fucking you tonight, sweetie. You're too drunk. It would feel like taking advantage. If you want me to enjoy myself, I'll ask to go to second base. I gotta admit I've wanted to touch since I saw you." 

Lute let out a bitter laugh. "They're not that big. Not like yours." 

"Size doesn't determine quality. You have a great rack. I want to touch them. May I?" 

Lute hesitated before nodding. What was the worst that could happen? It wasn't like she'd treat them any worse than Adam had.

Verosika's hand slid inside her bra, skin like warm silk against the hardened peak. Her whole body lit up when Verosika's fingers nimbly pinched it to even firmer attention. 

"Your nipples are so cute," Verosika said with a chuckle. 

"Are not." 

Verosika pinched her and let out an appreciative laugh when Lute yelped. Her grip gentled when Lute squirmed.

“Too much?”

Lute shook her head too quickly. “No. No, just… different.”

It felt good. Too good. She should probably stop this. But she didn't want to.

Verosika’s grin widened. “Good different?”

Lute shut her eyes. “Yes.”

"Do you want me, Lute?"

She should have denied it. The truth was shameful. Sinful. Like admitting she belonged in the pit she'd found herself in. And it came tumbling out of her mouth without permission. 

"Yes, but I don't want to. I don't want to like this. I'm supposed to like him." 

That was what good girls wanted. They partnered with strong, capable men like Adam. She'd always felt attracted to him. She wanted to cut out the part of her that liked this too.

“I don’t want to be like this,” Lute admitted, voice shaking. “But I don’t know how to stop.”

Verosika’s thumb circled her nipple. Gentle. Deliberate. Desire spiraled to her core. Lute came again with a quiet sob.

"Then don't. You can't go to hell twice, right?" 

Lute gave a watery snort, scrubbing at the tears. She shuddered when Verosika leaned in to kiss them away instead. The compassion in her eyes was nearly unbearable. She wanted to grab her with both hands and beg her not to let go. Out loud, she said;

"Dear God, I hope not." 

Chapter Text

Lucifer 

"You think someone taller would have volunteered to do this," he muttered to himself, adjusting the arm around Adam's waist with a sigh.

God had truly made this one a giant. All the humans he'd started out with had been oversized. It had been hard enough to look up at Lilith, craning his neck to get just a glimpse of her loveliness. It was even harder to look Adam in the eye. It was part of why he'd sent Charlie to the meeting in his stead. He'd gotten tired of literally and figuratively looking up at the first heaven-bound soul of mankind. A reminder that his own father had stuck him with the rejects. 

And oh, how the mighty had fallen. Giant, swaggering Adam had found himself just another sinner, trapped in this purgatory just like the rest of them. It should have been a delicious irony. Something to be celebrated. 

But mostly, Adam's breath was just making Lucifer nauseous. Adam had thrown up twice before the bartender would cut him off. His shirt was spattered with the stuff. So were his wings. That part would be a bitch to clean up. Lucifer knew that from experience. Vomit and feathers weren't meant to mix.

"Come on," Lucifer muttered under his breath. "Move your feet. At least try to work with me."

Lucifer hadn't really expected an answer and was surprised when a humorless laugh issued from the half-crumpled man. 

"Work with you? Why the fuck would I work with you? You took everything from me. I ought to make you drag me back by the ankles, except I know you'd use the stairs if I tried it." 

Lucifer was shocked that Adam could string together complete sentences. By the time that Charlie asked him to intervene, Adam had been on his tenth Harder Daddy. No longer the arrogant, strutting sinner. He was crumpled, head hanging over the edge of the bar, teetering on the edge of full-blown blackout. 

"I wouldn't use the stairs," Lucifer muttered. "Unless you really pissed me off. I'd have flown and carried you." 

Adam groaned. "That's worse. You can see how that's worse, right?" 

Lucifer adjusted his grip around Adam's waist, helping him up the stairs one at a time. It was slow progress, and he was tempted to carry the threat through, just to get Adam to bed faster. He really did reek.

“I don’t need help,” Adam slurred. 

Lucifer caught him swaying near the top of the stairs. He was one good push from toppling over the rail and plummeting to the floor below. It wouldn't kill him, but it would hurt badly and Charlie would blame him for not catching Adam in time.

“Yes, you do,” Lucifer said dryly. “And since you ran off everyone else willing to tolerate your smug ass, I’m your only option. Unless you want to find a comfy section of floor to sleep on?"

Adam tried to shove his shoulder. It barely moved Lucifer an inch. He waited. Watched Adam's expression cycle through rage, fear, and disgust before he finally came to acceptance. He knew damn well that he wasn't making it to the bedroom on his own, and it would be even worse if Lute found him unconscious and draped over the bar.

Adam sighed and let Lucifer bear his weight. "I can walk. Just...keep me from falling over."

"Sure thing." 

The shuffle down the hall was more productive than the hobble across the lobby and up the stairs. They actually managed to make it to Adam's door in under ten minutes and got him into bed in another five. Adam made a defeated sound when his back hit the mattress and his eyes fluttered closed. He didn't seem to have the energy to argue when Lucifer knelt beside the bed, removing his shoes with gentle, sure movements. 

"What are you doing?" Adam slurred. 

"Making sure you're comfortable," Lucifer replied. "I used to do this for Lilith when she got smashed. She'd fall asleep in all that finery, and it would leave her sore in the morning."

Adam was silent long enough that Lucifer assumed he'd finally passed out. When his voice came, it was smaller than Lucifer had ever heard it. 

"Did she ever talk about me?" 

A twinge of regret went through Lucifer. He could hear the pain in the question. 

"Sometimes. She was busy ruling Hell most of the time." 

Lucifer piled Adam's jacket next to the bed and retreated to the bathroom. Adam's eyes were half-lidded, and followed him when he returned to the bed, with a bowl and a washcloth. He started undoing the buttons on the last vomit-soaked layer of clothing slowly, letting him object. 

And object he did. Adam tried to stir, scowling when Lucifer pushed him flat once more. 

"What are you doing?" 

"Making sure you don't smell like second-rate pizza and gin tomorrow morning. You don't want to try to get this out of your clothing and wings when it's dry."

Lucifer allowed himself to skim his fingers over Adam's feathers in demonstration. They were incredibly soft to the touch, like the down feathers on a baby duck. He'd nearly forgotten the texture of wings other than his own. It had been so long since he'd touched another angel. Let alone to administer healing and comfort like this. It almost made him feel...whole. 

"I don't think it's fair they stole the gold," Lucifer continued as though Adam wasn't staring at him, open-mouthed. "Not that the black feathers look bad on you. But it's another big change. I understand how hard those can be to deal with. Was that why you were drinking?"

He knew damn well it wasn't, but the opening would give Adam a chance to talk, if he wanted to. It was a technique Charlie taught him. People liked to talk about themselves.

Adam laughed bitterly, the sound bursting from him as though it had been waiting for the opportunity all night. 

"You think I give a shit about my wings?" 

"I did, when I was in your position." 

"Because you're a prideful fucking idiot," Adam shot back. 

"Maybe," Lucifer said quietly. "But I'm a prideful fucking idiot who's been cast into Hell. I know more about suffering than you do. Try me."

Adam faltered. His eyes slid closed again. Lucifer pretended not to notice that he'd started shaking.

“They… they just leave. You think you care about someone, and then they walk out the door. It's not fair."

“Do you want to talk about it?” Lucifer asked, his voice deceptively soft.

"No."

Lucifer nodded, silent, continuing to gently clear filth from Adam's feathers. It was almost soothing, working with the grain, preening a wing that wasn't his own. Lucifer made it to the third row before Adam started talking again, unable to help himself. 

"I mean, at first it was Lilith. Then Eve. And now her? Tell me how that's fair. Why do they always leave?" 

Lucifer shrugged. "I've been asking myself the same question." 

Adam continued talking, clearly unaware that Lucifer had been speaking. He'd begun laughing, too, a wild, half-hysterical sound. 

"Hey, at least it wasn't you cucking me this time. I lost to a succubus. A walking orgasm on legs. That's at least got a little dignity to it. I mean, it's hard to compete with pussy that good, right?"

“I wouldn’t put it to her that way,” Lucifer said, voice even but a little amused. “You might want to reconsider the phrasing.”

"Oh, fuck you." 

"I'm flattered, but no. I'm married."

Adam tilted his head back, lips twitching in a half-smile. “Not funny.”

“I never said it was,” Lucifer replied. He reached to brush a stray lock of hair from Adam’s face. Adam flinched and swatted him away. 

"What are you doing?" 

"What my daughter asked me to. I'm taking care of you. You're a mess." 

"I don't want your pity," Adam snapped. 

“Then what about my help? You’re not thinking clearly. You shouldn’t be alone tonight.”

Adam propped himself up on his elbows, eyes narrowing. “I’m not cuddling with the fucking devil who stole both my wives.”

Lucifer sighed. He let the shadows shift and contract around him, shrinking down into the shape of a Dalmatian. A perfect black-and-white contradiction, obedient and silent. He climbed onto the bed, curling into a ball near Adam's flank.

Adam’s frown faltered. He stared at the dog for a long, ridiculous second. Then he sighed. 

“Well…fuck it.” 

He leaned over and curled around the Dalmatian, chin tucked to his chest, his cheek resting in Lucifer's fur. He stayed perfectly still, letting Adam mold himself against his side. Adam’s breathing slowed after a few minutes, hiccupping occasionally. He wouldn't remember this night. Wouldn't know what the silent, grudging acceptance had meant to Lucifer. 

But Lucifer would remember. He'd treasure it. A truce, at long last. 

It was almost worth having to wash the vomit from Adam's wings. 

Chapter Text

Lute had never woken with someone snugged up against her ass until she'd slept with Adam. On the rare occasion she'd slipped into temptation, she'd always seen the man to the door before he could nod off. She'd never let anyone come inside her before. Never slept in their arms like she belonged there. Now she'd done it twice, one after the other. She'd opened her legs for Adam, then she'd gotten so shitfaced she'd let a demon talk her into embarrassing herself in front of the whole hotel. 

And the worst part? She'd gotten off to it. This had to be some kind of humiliation kink. Why else would Lute put herself in such compromising positions over and over again? 

Verosika's hands had settled around Lute's waist, and the demon's chin rested softly on the curve of her shoulder. Her breath ghosted over Lute's skin, raising goosebumps in its wake. The warm, sleepy contentment of a moment before was gone, replaced with an electric jolt of want that roused every cell in her body. She felt too aware of her skin. How tightly it was stretched over her muscles and bones. Her flesh felt open and aching and needy in the way she'd only associated with Adam. Like she'd burst if he didn't touch her in the next goddamn second. And she was feeling it sober. With a demon. 

With a woman. God, what was wrong with her?

Lute's stomach almost went into freefall when Veroiska's weight shifted, pressing her hips more firmly against Lute's ass. She made a throaty sound of protest when Lute tried to squirm out of her grip.

Lute turned her head, trying to convince herself that this wasn't as bad as it looked. If anything, it was worse to see the demon's face slack with sleep. It made her look younger. Soft and dewy, like those glamor photos from the eighties, sans the overinflated hairdo. Verosika's hair looked like spun silk, catching and reflecting the light of the sanguine sky slanting through the window. Lute had the absurd urge to touch it, to confirm what her senses had told her last night. It was as soft as it looked. All of her was soft. From the crown of her head to her gracefully arched feet. The contrast with the rock hardness of Adam couldn't have been more apparent.

Verosika was still wearing Lute's nightie. It looked better on the ample curves the demon boasted. Adam's eyes would have been glued nowhere else during the entirety of a conversation. And looking at her like this, she could sort of understand why. Verosika's boobs had a sort of gravitational pull. She didn't want to stare, but couldn't help it. They were just so...big. It didn't seem fair that they should be that perky. And why the hell were her nipples straining the fabric like that? She'd gone to bed wearing a bra, right? Had she taken it off in the night? How had Lute failed to notice? 

Oh, right. She'd been blackout drunk. After her second orgasm, she'd been out like a light. Verosika hadn't been content with just making her come once. She'd done it again, the sinful warmth of Verosika's mouth on her breasts sending her over an edge Adam hadn't even approached. It had been the best damn sex of her life. Without the sex part. Which was confusing as hell. 

Lute wiggled in her grip, trying to get a little space, and only ended up nose-to-nose instead. Her hand grazed Verosika's chest, and the sound she made in reply made Lute freeze. 

"Mmm," Verosika murmured. "That's nice. Do it again."

The fact that it was a temptation at all was already a sin. The fact that she'd indulged herself even while drunk should have been disgraceful. But it didn't feel any different from waking next to Adam. Okay, it felt better than waking up next to Adam. At least she had an afterglow to show for all the debauchery.

Verosika’s eyes opened, and this close, Lute could count every lash. Her eyes were a molten gold, a scorching deluge determined to drown her. A slow smile curved Verosika's lips when she caught the look on Lute's face. 

"You don't have to look so terrified. They're just breasts. You can even touch them, if you want. It was nice to have your hands on me."

Lute’s face burned. She opened her mouth, about to protest that she hadn't meant it. In light of what they'd done last night, it seemed a little silly to quibble over semantics now. She'd touched the demon, and some sick part of her had gotten off on it. 

"Are you using your powers?" Lute asked in an undertone, surprised that she'd said it aloud. She'd only meant to think it. 

Verosika pulled back enough to let Lute breathe. She could finally think when those eyes narrowed and her mouth pursed. 

"No, sweetie. If you're getting tingly, that's all you."

Liar. She had to be a liar. This was demon wiles. She shouldn't be wound tight with anticipation for a woman. It was unnatural. And yet, she'd gotten off. Something she'd desperately needed, it seemed, because she felt better this morning than she had in months, despite the hangover and morally dubious bedmate.

Lute let her fingers skim over the black satin riding up over Verosika's stomach, smoothing it back to reveal inches of bare flesh. Her hand splayed over her ribs, breath catching when Verosika squirmed, pressing her hand up a little further up her torso. When Lute risked a glance upward, Verosika was smiling at her. If it had been a smirk, she would have said the demon was gloating. Not everyone could say they had an angel notch on their bedpost. But the smile just looked...pleased.

“My boobs are here,” she said, voice lilting slightly as she slid Lute's hand upward with excruciating slowness. “I already said it’s okay to want to touch them.”

"I shouldn't," Lute whispered.

The playfulness disappeared in an instant. The demoness looked tired and a touch disappointed. 

“This isn’t Heaven,” she said. “You don’t have to measure yourself against some imaginary rulebook anymore. You don't answer to the sex police for what you do with your body, Lute. I'm happy you shared it with me last night. It was the most fun I've had in..." 

Verosika trailed off, seeming to think about it. She took Lute's hand after a moment, brushing her thumb over her knuckles.

“Let's just say it's been a while since I did that with anybody I actually wanted. I've got a day job slutting it up topside. But down here? Well, I like to be a little choosier. You were great, trust me."

Lute swallowed, throat tight. She couldn't look at Verosika. If she did, the heat burning up the back of her neck might actually make her combust. This had gone too far, too quickly. She had to get her to stop.

Lute leaned in before she could talk herself out of it. She'd only meant the kiss to shut her up. Keep Verosika's mouth occupied until she stopped talking about sex and feelings. Though nothing could ever be that simple when a succubus was involved. 

It started out as chaste as she'd meant it. Just a brush of lips. Then Verosika's breath caught, and she surged forward, mouth hot and hungry against Lute's. She hadn't been drunk or dreaming last night. Verosika's tongue really did taste like candy. Sweet. Heady. Addictive. Before she knew it, she was on her back, with Verosika's knees bracing either side of her waist. The slow grind of the succubus' hips drew a moan from her throat before she could bite it back. It felt good, and she couldn't even blame it on the alcohol this time. Here she was, stone-cold sober, and she was panting after a demon. Again. 

"This feels..." she began. 

She was going to say wrong, but Verosika leaned in, sealing her mouth over Lute's, silencing her. 

"Good. You can say it feels good, angelcakes. It doesn't make you a bad person. I'm feeling fan-fucking-tastic this morning. How about you?" 

In truth? She wanted to come again. Loud enough that Adam would hear her all the way downstairs. If only she could blot out the fact that all the other guests would hear it too. Especially Vaggie. 

Nope. Couldn't do it. 

"I don't..." Lute began.

“Do you want to stop?”

“No.” The word came out too fast. Her chest burned. “But we probably should."

Verosika considered her for a long moment before nodding.

“Okay. If you're sure. Want to go down to breakfast?"

The relief hit Lute so hard it almost made her dizzy. She latched onto it like the lifeline it was. “Breakfast sounds great."

Verosika smirked, sliding off her and standing. She peeled off the sleep shorts without ceremony, leaving herself in just the thong and the short sleep shirt that barely skimmed her hips. It was an unapologetic amount of leg. An obscene amount of thigh.

Lute stared for longer than she meant to, and immediately turned away when she realized what she was doing.

Verosika held out her hand, smiling that sad, tired smile again. “Let’s go rub your conquest in Adam's face, hm?"

Chapter Text

Lute skipped breakfast most mornings. It made her feel slothful, lazing about in her room until noon, but it had only taken a few times at the table to know she didn't belong there. 

Charlie and Vaggie always sat at the head of the table, talking about one thing or the other. It was usually diabetes-inducing drivel, but the Princess's chirping voice made it almost impossible to ignore. If they turned to talk to her at all, it was usually Vaggie with a curt, "Morning," and nothing else. Charlie would prattle about games and trust exercises for hours if you let her. Lute didn't have the time or the patience for it. 

It was a toss-up if Husk and Angel turned up. Both were usually hungover at this hour, but sometimes she'd Husk nibbling unenthusiastically on heart-shaped pancakes. Angel would usually have coffee and a cigarette in lieu of a meal. The Radio Demon was almost always absent, and she was grateful for it. The guy gave her the creeps. 

And Adam? Well, that depended on who else was at the table. If the little bug-woman was in the room, Adam wouldn't be. He claimed it was because she was annoying, but Lute knew better. There was a very specific, very rational fear in his eyes whenever the little demon scuttled too close, knife in hand and manic smile on her face. Sinner or not, he still flinched like she might kill him again if he turned his back. 

Lute didn't want to go downstairs. Not really. The prospect of facing the others was nearly as daunting as staying inside with Verosika. It felt like walking into the lion's den. After she'd made out with the lioness. Awkward didn't even begin to cover it. Sounds drifted up to the head of the stairs, where she hovered, feeling the urge to sprint back into the room and slam the door. 

"You good, Angelcakes? You look pale." 

She felt like an idiot. What had she been thinking? Did she turn into a moron when plied with enough alcohol? This had been a bad idea. She'd made out with a demon in front of everyone. In front of Adam. They'd all be looking at her. She'd pretty much guaranteed that. 

"I'm a little queasy." 

There. That was a tactful way to put it. It would probably be offensive to say she wanted to hurl, then curl up in a ball and cry for a few hours. She couldn't believe she'd put herself in this position. And for what? Adam had hurt her feelings, but it wasn't the first time. She should have just taken it. 

Verosika stepped closer. She looked good in Lute's pajamas. The top strained to hold her chest in. Her bare legs looked designed to wrap around a man's waist. She was the sort of person that Adam chased. Of course he'd proposed a threesome. It shouldn't have made her so angry. Lute swallowed hard when the demon took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"It's called a hangover, sweetie. Hydrate and load up on carbs, and you'll be fine." 

Verosika led her forward by the hand. Lute drifted in her wake, battling the instinct to run the other way with every step. 

Maybe this breakfast is her punishment for last night's transgression. She'd been stupid enough to do it, now she had to withstand the ribbing she'd get for it. 

Eyes drifted to them as they entered the room. Most of them stayed fixed on Verosika and what she was wearing. Or rather, what she wasn't. The thong didn't leave much to the imagination. The structural integrity of her sleep shirt was probably going to disintegrate at some point during the meal. She walked forward, a sway to her hips that said she knew she had every eye in the room. Lute wasn't usually an ass person, but even she could admit it was sort of mesmerizing. 

Lute tore her eyes away when she realized she'd been staring. The conversation at the table died. She could feel Vaggie's stare on her face, but couldn't bring herself to return it. 

"Coward," Lute thought sourly. "You're a pervert and a coward. That's just great."

Heat prickled up the back of her neck, spreading to her cheeks as everyone continued to stare. And it was everyone. The usual suspects were here. Charlie. Vaggie. Angel Dust. Husk. Adam. Alastor was missing, and Nifty must have been elsewhere, since Adam was sitting at Charlie's elbow, sulking.

"Enough for two more?" Verosika asked pleasantly, gesturing to the stack of pancakes in the center of the table. "I'm starved." 

"Of course!" Charlie said brightly. "Any friend of Lute's is welcome! Help yourself." 

Verosika sat down across from Adam with a sunny smile, guiding Lute to sit beside her. Lute couldn't bring herself to look up at him. He hated her now. She just knew it. She'd fucked up, and now he hated her. Verosika reached for the stack of plates like nothing was wrong. She piled her plate high with pancakes and several strips of bacon. She turned to Lute, beaming.  

"You said you wanted two pancakes, right?" 

Lute nodded and managed a whispered, "Right."

“Want any of the bacon, babe? It smells really fucking good."

She nodded again, not daring to peek at her neighbors. She didn't want to know what Adam made of her silence. She especially didn't want to know what Vaggie read into it.

Lute felt childish. Petty. Stupid. She'd wanted him to hurt. Wanted to get back at him for ruining it. For dashing her dreams and feelings to pieces on the dance floor. She hadn't expected the guilt that came with the lie. She hadn't expected to feel like she'd done something wrong. 

Adam's glare sharpened. She could feel it, as surely as if she were staring him down. She could always feel him, even before he entered a room. They were attuned to each other. She knew his moods. His mannerisms. She'd trained herself to be exactly what he needed. She thought it made her special. It turned out, it just made her useful. 

Soft fingers traced Lute's jaw. A soft gasp escaped Lute's throat when Verosika guided her chin up. Molten gold filled her vision. Soft eyes. Kind eyes. For just a moment, she relaxed, sinking into her gaze. 

"Stay with me, sleepyhead," she said with a small, satisfied grin. "I get that you're worn out, but you need to eat sometime before noon."

Verosika lifted a forkful of pancake. It was dripping with syrup. Lute could only open up as she guided the fluffy morsel past her lips. The tartness of the strawberry flavor burst across her tongue. She cringed inwardly, even as her lips closed around Verosika's fork. This was too much. They'd pretended to fuck. This was...not that. 

Adam made a small, strangled noise. It was caught somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. 

“So you’ll just open up for anybody, huh? I didn't realize you were that easy, Lute."

The words were quiet. Corrosive with rage, eating into her on contact. Lute froze, pain ripping through her chest at the accusation. He hadn't said the word, but she knew what he was saying. 

Whore. You filthy fucking whore.

The sweet tang of syrup turned sour. Her hands balled into fists under the table. For one horrifying second, she was sure she'd launch herself across the table and slam a fist into his too-perfect face. Her cheeks were burning. She couldn't breathe. Tears threatened, summoned into being by her anger. 

How dare he? How fucking dare he say that to her? She didn't think. She just snapped at him. 

"Easy? Um, no. I'm pretty damn selective, actually. I only go out with people who can make me come. Which you failed at, by the way. Verosika did more for me with a dance than you did for the whole six minutes you had your dick in me."

The silence that followed that statement was smothering. Lute's chest was heaving. She didn't care that Adam recoiled, hurt flashing across his face at her words. He didn't get to act hurt. He was the one in the wrong here.

Adam's face went from pink to puce in a matter of seconds. 

"You're such a goddamned liar. You got your feelings hurt because I didn't want to be exclusive with you. Now you're fucking this bitch to get back at me. Well, have at it, Lute. Go where a million guys have gone before."

Lute could feel herself shaking, adrenaline and humiliation tangling together until she wasn't sure she'd hit him or burst into tears. 

"Hey, let's all take a breath, okay?" Charlie cut in. "There's no reason for name-calling-"

Adam wasn't listening. He opened his mouth again, probably to say something even nastier. Verosika cut across him before he could get the words out. Her fingers wrapped around Lute's upper arm, tugging her away from the table.

“Come on,” Verosika said, already standing. Her tone was light, but there was steel lurking beneath it. “We're eating somewhere else." 

"What?" Lute asked.

"My place. There's a little waffle joint a few blocks up. Great service. We can order in."

"Okay," Lute said, surprising even herself by agreeing. She just knew she couldn't stay here, with Adam seething like a wronged schoolboy on the other side of the table. 

"You can't be serious," Adam spat. "You're not leaving. You're just doing this to hurt me." 

Lute leaned in so that they were nose-to-nose. Adam leaned away in spite of himself, backing down when it counted. 

"Someone should have told you this a long time ago," Lute said quietly. "But not everything is about you. I'm leaving. Follow me, and I'll hit you. Have the day you fucking deserve, sir." 

And with that, Lute marched away from the table, back straight, jaw clenched. 

Too late to back out now. She had a bag to pack. 

Chapter Text

Verosika Mayday lived in a penthouse apartment, because of course she did. Lute wasn't sure why she expected anything else. Her building was a neon-drenched nightmare owned by the deadly sin Asmodeus. The decor mirrored it too, with water features shaped like obscene fertility statues. Large breasts, wide hips, and waists that curved inward at hypnotic angles. Another one near the elevators showed a tall, well-muscled man rendered completely in ivory. His manhood was truly monstrous, easily as thick as her clenched fist while fully erect and nearly a foot in length. 

Verosika caught her looking and grinned. "He sculpts them himself, you know." 

"Who?" 

"My boss. Asmodeus. A lot of the art in his buildings was done by hand. He has a habit of immortalizing his lovers in some way. This is an old one. Around five centuries old, give or take a few decades." 

"I think that thing would touch my uvula during missionary," Lute muttered. 

Verosika's tinkling laugh echoed off the walls of the elevator as they stepped inside. It was a musical sound that lightened her mood, despite thoughts of breakfast circling her head like vultures. 

"I've had a few that big, but it's rarely any fun. And men with equipment that big are usually huge tools themselves. Not worth the hype, trust me." She smirked, nudging Lute in the ribs. "Not that I'd expect a virgin like you to know." 

Lute crossed her arms as the lift began to rise. "I'm not a virgin." 

"You live in hell and have only slept with four people. You're practically a nun."

"I used to live in heaven," she whispered. 

Lute clutched herself even tighter, cold stealing through her at the words. The rage she felt wasn't just at Adam. It was about what he stood for, what she'd given up for him.  Heaven. She'd given up heaven for him, and the bastard wasn't even grateful. She thought they'd been in this together. It turned out she'd just been fooling herself.  

A soft hand curved around her cheek. Lute blinked through the tears that hazed her eyes and found Verosika inches away. All teasing had fled, leaving her looking older and sadder than she'd been a moment before. 

"Why the tears, sweetie?" 

"He hates me," Lute whispered. "Adam hates me now. I entered the Pit for him. Because I loved him. And what was the fucking point?" 

It was like a monkey's paw, getting what she wanted in the worst way possible. She'd slept with Adam, and it might have been the worst sexual experience she'd ever had. The curtain had finally risen, and she'd seen the small, petty man lurking on the other side. Now she couldn't unsee it. Couldn't justify the sweeping gesture she'd made to a man who barely knew she existed. 

There was no going back. She'd never see her fellow exorcists again. Never know the radiance of the speaker or bask in the light of the seraphim ever again. If he'd never love her, what had she traded her home for?    

"I know you won't believe me, but I understand what you're going through. I thought I loved someone once, too. And it went...badly. I ended up in a bad position for a while. I know what it's like to make choices that you regret. Picking up the pieces sucks, but you don't have to do it alone." 

Lute let out a watery snort. "We only met a few days ago. You don't owe me shit. Hell, you tried to warn me about him, and I did it anyway. It's not your fault that I fucked my life up." 

"Maybe. But if no one took a chance to help someone else, the world would get ugly fast. Can you accept that I want to help? You could crash here for a week or two. Figure out what comes next."

Next. That word sounded impossible. How was there a tomorrow? She'd pretty much watched her hopes and dreams wither and die at the breakfast table. What future was there in hell if he wasn't in it? She didn't know. She sure as shit couldn't figure that out at the hotel with Adam haunting the halls like a vengeful ghost.

"Okay," Lute said quietly. "Until I figure my shit out. That could take a while, though. You could get sick of me."

Verosika blinked once, thrown. Lute could tell she'd surprised the succubus with her easy acceptance. Then a dazzling smile stretched across her face. She swore her eyes gleamed gold for a moment. 

"I'm only here in the mornings, if it makes you feel better. I'm mostly booked at night. Think of it as a timeshare. You'll only have to see me around breakfast time. Unless you want to come with. See the mortal world with me sometime." 

Lute paused. Now that was a tempting offer. She hadn't gone to earth often in the course of her duties. Sightseeing had been at the bottom of her list of priorities. Taking a look around topside sounded...nice. A good distraction from the mess her life had become. 

"Will there be booze?" 

"If the venue doesn't stock some, we'll bring our own." 

Lute nodded to herself. "That sounds fun, actually. But are we going as...?" 

"Lovers?" she teased. "That's up to you, babe."

The suggestive undertone made Lute blush to the roots of her hair. She was grateful when the doors dinged open. Lute took a cautious step into the penthouse and couldn't help but bark a laugh. She wasn't sure what she'd expected from a den of iniquity, but it certainly wasn't pastels. 

“I don't know if I can date someone who has no taste. Seriously, it looks like an Easter egg threw up in here.”

Verosika didn't look offended. If anything, she looked pleased with herself when she lounged on one of the pale pink sofas. The shade had been specifically chosen to contrast well with her skin. Lute had the sudden and alien urge to run her hand over the small of Verosika's back, memorizing the warm, satiny texture she'd indulged in the night before. 

"I like pastels, sue me." 

"I feel like I'm on a prank show. This can't seriously be your house."

The place was too…soft. That was the word for it. White furniture, creams, and blush tones on all the throw pillows and blankets. There were butterflies etched onto the frames of her photos, for fuck's sake. Glass figurines of birds and insects perched on crystal shelves. One of them, a starling, caught the light from her windows and tossed it across the room in wide, rainbow arcs.   

It looked like it belonged to a faerie princess, not a hell-famous succubus that had made her forget her own name less than twelve hours ago.

"Think you can sort out your shit here?" 

"Once I stop feeling like I'm living inside a cupcake, maybe. I was thinking there'd be a lot more leather. Chains. Whips." 

"I keep that stuff in a drawer," Verosika said offhandedly, draping a throw blanket around her shoulders. "But I won't tell you which one." 

Lute wasn't sure if she should feel grateful or not. The thought of Verosika in skintight leather was more intriguing than it had a right to be. 

"But to answer your question, yes, this is my place. I have an image to maintain when I'm out there. But here? Well, I get to be who I want to be. It confuses people when I turn out to be a person underneath all the glamour."

That landed harder than Lute expected. She stared at a framed photo near the rainbow starling. It looked like a much younger Verosika standing in front of a theme park. She had her arm around another sucubus, this one with neon violet hair. They were both wearing t-shirts with the words, 'Loo-Loo Land' printed on the front, and had huge smiles plastered across their faces. Lute straightened quickly, as if she’d been caught rifling through something private.

“You can sit, you know. Me casa, su casa."

Lute did, awkwardly. This place was just too bizarre. And it got even stranger when Verosika began to shimmy out of Lute's clothes, dropping them onto the floor like a too-small skin when she was through. It left her in just her underwear, and Lute had to drag her eyes away. 

“Hey!” she snapped, turning a beat too late to preserve any illusion of dignity. “You can’t just..." 

"Strip? In my own home?" 

"But I...I'm right here!" 

"And you've seen it all, so what's the big deal?" 

Lute wasn't sure what to say to that. Nor was she sure how to look away. She was practically magnetic, drawing eyes to herself more on reflex than by design. Her mouth felt dry. 

"I...it's hard to think when you're like that. I know you're doing this on purpose."

Verosika looked down at herself, then back up at Lute, eyes glittering with amusement. “Doing what?”

“Being a tease.”

Verosika hummed thoughtfully. She scooted closer, close enough that Lute could feel the warmth of her skin.  

“It’s only a tease if you’re interested.” Her voice was low and pooled in her ears like honey. Sticky and hard to wade through. "Are you interested, angel cakes?" 

Lute’s mouth opened. She tried to deny it. Couldn't. 

"What will you do if I am?" she asked. 

Lute hated how small her voice sounded. She was better than this, damn it. Braver. And yet, she couldn't stop shaking. She wanted this. Hated that she wanted it.

But if she was damned either way, what was the point of restraint? Like Verosika said, she couldn't go to hell twice. If there was no point to any of this, no meaning to her fall from grace, why the hell should she play by the rules anymore?

There was a long, silent moment where they just stared at each other. Lute couldn't believe she'd dared to say what she had. When Verosika leaned in to kiss her, it felt like ice fracturing underfoot, her grasp on reality shattering as she was plunged into the water below. But instead of the bone-chilling depths, she felt warmth. Delicious, seductive heat that stole into her veins and left her gasping for air. 

"I'd ask you a question," she murmured against Lute's mouth. 

"What?" Lute breathed. 

"Are you going to take off your clothes, or do I get to do that part?" 

"We'll flip a coin for it." 

Chapter Text

The kiss wasn't any different from the others they'd shared. Verosika's lips and tongue were as delectable as ever, but Lute couldn't sink into it. Couldn't uncoil the tension from her back and calves that told her to run. That she shouldn't be doing this. Lute jerked her arms down on reflex when Verosika reached for the hem of her shirt, intent on dragging the whole thing over her head.

Verosika pulled back with a mocking half-smile and said, "Fine, fine, you can do it, but at least take something off. I'm beginning to feel underdressed here."

Underdressed was an understatement. Only thin, nearly sheer fabric stopped the succubus from standing completely bare-assed in the middle of the room. Lute had never seen a woman so effortlessly beautiful in her life. She looked boyish in comparison. What if the succubus laughed in her face when everything came off?

"I don't know how to do this," Lute said, backing up a step.

"Maybe we start with the socks and shoes, hm?" Verosika said, guiding her to sit.

She knelt and started undoing the laces on Lute's shoes, tossing them toward the entryway when she was through. Verosika peeled the socks off with a kind of deliberate, sensual slowness, as though she was handling silk stockings and not gray cotton crew socks. Lute shivered when Verosika's fingers edged beneath the hem of her jeans, trailing up her calf. Warm tingles followed in the wake of her hands.

"Is this okay?" Verosika asked. "I can stop."

Stop. Could she stop? Should she? Lute wasn't sure.

"It doesn't feel bad," she hedged.

One delicate brow climbed, and Verosika's seeking fingers paused. "But that doesn't mean it feels good. There's a difference between tolerating touch and enjoying it. I only want to do this if you feel good, too."

Lute wasn't sure what to say to that. She was used to partners just doing things to her. Most of the time, those things felt nice. No one had paused and talked like this. It felt strange.

"Is this some weird kink thing?" Lute asked. "All this gabbing?"

"I think consent is pretty sexy, yeah," Verosika purred.

"Well, I think you talk too much," Lute shot back, leaning down to kiss her again.

It was easier this way, when they were just bodies, not two people talking. It made it easier to slide her hands across the slender spread of her shoulders, tracing the contours with her nails. It earned her a soft, yearning moan, and then Verosika was climbing onto the sofa, clambering into her lap. Lute's hands had to band around her very full and firm ass to keep her steady, even as the succubus ground her hips down in a maddening search for friction.

"I can think of a few ways to keep my mouth occupied," Verosika said breathlessly, reaching between them.

This time, Lute didn't fight when the succubus peeled the shirt off, leaving her in the unflattering sports bra she used while training. If the boring beige bothered Verosika, she didn't let it show. Her fingers were already in motion, edging beneath the stretchy fabric, easing it up.

"Beautiful," Verosika breathed.

Heat flushed into Lute's cheeks. She wasn't even sure if Verosika had meant to say the word aloud, but it landed with enough weight to bruise. Adam thought she was beautiful, too, and it hadn't stopped him from discarding her. It hadn't made Vaggie look her way, even once.

Verosika paused, those incredible eyes rolling up to meet hers, scrutinizing her expression.

"You're upset. Should I stop?"

Lute blinked furiously and shook her head mutely. A single, traitorous tear escaped, and she batted Verosika's hands away when she tried to catch it with her thumb.

"It's nothing. I'm being stupid."

"Nothing you do is stupid," she said. "I just want you here with me, not in your head. What's going on?"

Lute didn't want to talk. Weren't succubi supposed to be ravening monsters feeding on the lust of the damned? She had given Verosika carte blanche to do whatever she wanted. Couldn't she just get on with it already?

"Can't you just fuck me?" Lute groused.

"I don't want to make things worse. Talk to me, angelcakes."

The damn demon was impossible. Tell her to do one thing, and she'd do the opposite, just for spite. Sex should have been simple, not this game of twenty questions. She'd have to tell her something if she wanted to get Verosika off her back and onto her knees instead. So Lute told her the truth. Just not all of it.

"I've never done this before," she admitted. "And I've only seen it done a couple of times. I'm probably going to be bad at it. I hate being bad at things."

Verosika's expression softened. "That's okay, sweetie. Everyone learns at their own pace. I won't hold it against you. Don't even worry about that part right now. Let me take care of you."

Verosika's nimble fingers undid the button of her jeans. Lute lifted her hips a little, helping her shimmy the tight fabric down her legs. Verosika's hands followed in their wake, rousing the bared flesh with gentle caresses. Lute nearly arched off the couch when she found a ticklish spot behind one knee. Verosika grinned, pressing a kiss to the hollow to mark the spot.

“So you watched two women together?” she asked lightly, undoing her bra one hook at a time. A flush had crept across her chest, making the skin appear even more rosy than Lute knew it was. “That’s sort of scandalous for an angel, isn’t it?”

The teasing should have irritated her. Instead, it broke the tension just enough for Lute to breathe.

“I didn’t watch on purpose."

“Sure.” Verosika’s tone was dry. “You just happened to be standing there. Accidentally observing.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“How was it, then?”

Lute opened her mouth. Closed it. She remembered the way her pulse had roared in her ears. The way jealousy had twisted sharp and insistent under her ribs.

"I needed to get into the barracks. They were in there doing...that."

"Eating pussy?" Verosika put forward innocently. She laughed when Lute hit her upside the head with one of her throw pillows.

"You don't have to say it like that."

"Fine, fine. You saw an angel go down on another angel. How did it make you feel?"

Like she might explode from sheer frustration. She'd been serving with Vaggie a lot longer. Why that girl? Why hadn't she ever turned that shrewd gaze Lute's way?

"Disgruntled."

There, at least that was honest.

"Because you wanted to be the one in the bed?" Verosika guessed.

Lute didn't answer. Which was answer enough for the succubus. Lute folded her arms sullenly, refusing to meet her gaze.

“I’m not judging,” Verosika said. “I’m just surprised you watched. You seemed pretty averse to it in the club. Or maybe you don't like being watched. You like being the one doing the watching. You can tell me, you know. Were there any other times you wanted someone like that?"

The words tumbled out of Lute before she could stop them. "In training, sometimes. Certain positions were...more difficult than others. When I'd have those thoughts, I usually punched them away. Or let myself get punched. I mean, you can't be turned on during a fight, right?"

A beat of silence followed her words. Verosika was staring, looking befuddled by her for the first time since they'd met.

"I've heard of pray the gay away," she drawled. "But punching the gay away is new."

"I'm not gay."

"But you're sure as hell not straight," Verosika said, edging a finger beneath the hem of her panties. They were damp enough to make Lute squirm with guilt. "And that's okay. But if you really need violence as foreplay-"

Verosika reached for a pillow without warning and smacked her upside the head. Lute blinked in shock but managed to get her arms up to block the next swing. A helpless giggle escaped her when a third blow hit her firmly on the ass as she tried to squirm away. She kicked at Verosika's hand when she tried to grab her ankle and haul her back.

"That's not fair!" Lute protested. "I don't have a pillow!"

"Too bad," the succubus replied heartlessly, crawling across the couch after her. "You're in my den of iniquity now. My couch, my rules."

Lute scrambled backward until she hit the arm of the sofa. There was a small throw pillow tucked into the corner. She seized it in time to block another swing, still laughing.

"Surrender, angel," Verosika said, winding up for another sweeping blow. "Or face the wrath of my polyester blend pillow."

"That doesn't make it sound-ack! Threatening at all, I hope you-ah!"

Lute managed to roll to the side before the pillow came down where her head would have been. She swung at Verosika in reply. The small pillow made a mighty thwack when the buttons sewn on it hit Verosika's ass. Lute hadn't been aiming for it, but it was too large a target to miss.

“That was a cheap shot,” Verosika accused, eyes sparkling.

“You started it.”

“You're the one who needs to punch things to get in the mood. I'm just helping out."

Verosika feinted left. Lute anticipated it this time, getting in close and hooking her ankle behind Verosika’s. They went down together in a tangle of limbs, landing on the floor between the couch and the coffee table with Verosika on top.

For a moment, they were frozen there, breathing hard.

The succubus had a knee between Lute's thighs and her wrists held captive in one hand. The realization made desire shoot into Lute's veins, warm and addictive. Verosika’s hair had fallen loose around her shoulders in a bedraggled waterfall.

Lute’s pulse pounded, but it wasn’t panic this time. It wasn’t self-loathing or desperation or a need to punish herself for wanting a woman. She felt...good. Calm.

“You fight dirty,” Verosika said lightly, though she made no move to push things further.

“That's why you like me."

"I do," Verosika said softly.

The air between them felt charged. The fight had burned off some of the panic and regret, leaving Lute feeling more grounded. It had reminded her she wasn’t fragile. She wasn't something Adam could break with a single word.

"Kiss me," Lute whispered.

The sound Verosika made in reply was low and hungry, vibrating against her lips when she claimed Lute's mouth. The kiss deepened, slower than before. Less desperate. Verosika released her wrists to cup her face instead, thumbs brushing along her jaw. Lute’s hands found her waist, anchoring herself there.

Lute was trembling by the time Verosika had kissed her way down her throat, across her chest, and down past her navel.

“Last chance,” she said softly. “We can stop. Go back to pillow warfare. I won’t think less of you.”

Lute searched her face for a lie and found none. She could do it. Walk away. Pretend that this hadn't happened.

But she didn't want to.

Lute's heart was still racing. She was still nervous, but the terror had drained away, replaced with something warmer. Something curious.

“I don’t want to stop,” she said.

Verosika studied her for a second longer before she nodded. "Okay, angelcakes. I'll go slow. Tell me if something feels bad."

Lute could only nod. Her mouth felt like Death Valley at noon. Swallowing was painful. The ache between her thighs even more so. Verosika's hair was a ticklish sensation brushing across her hips, and she couldn't help but yearn toward the contact.

The demon was exceptionally gentle at first, testing her responses. A soft, experimental nibble on Lute's hip had her squirming. Verosika tasted her skin, testing it with the fullness of her lips and just the edge of her teeth. She seemed in no hurry to get to the act itself, contenting herself with mapping the contours of Lute's thighs with her hands. By the time she actually pressed two fingers inside, Lute was ready to sob with relief. The warmth of her mouth followed, honey and silk, and the soft, inhuman purr of Verosika's pleasure at her taste nearly made her come then and there.

"Verosika," Lute whispered, ashamed when her voice wavered.

"What?" Verosika said, glancing up at her.

The heat in her core bunched tighter. The sight of the demon on her knees, staring up at her from between her spread thighs was deviant. Sinful. And sexy as hell.

"More," Lute said. "I need more."

Verosika smirked, licked her lips in a move so sensual it should have been illegal.

"Say please."

Chapter Text

Vaggie

Charlie was staring at her with an expectant grin on her face. In any other circumstance, the sight of her dimples would have made something in Vaggie's chest loosen. It seemed like nothing short of a miracle that they'd met, let alone been together for this long. And yet...

And yet, there were times when that smile was a little too manic for comfort. Vaggie had an inkling that a plot was afoot when she rolled over in the morning to find an empty space where Charlie ought to have been. Sure enough, when she'd gone looking, Vaggie had found Charlie slumped over her work desk, drooling on a diagram drawn almost entirely in gel pen. Even now, there was a little of the sparkly stuff smudged on one cheek.

Charlie had proceeded to set up the trusty whiteboard she reserved for lessons and taped the drawings up for inspection. Vaggie hadn't been sure what to make of it at first, and the explanation had only left her more baffled, not less.

"I'm not sure I'm following," she admitted.

No, that wasn't quite true. She technically understood the words coming out of Charlie's mouth. She just didn't understand how or, more importantly, why she'd come up with this. There were insane plans, and then there was...this.

Charlie's face fell a little. She made a weak gesture at the board. "Is it too abstract? I usually use markers, not pens. Maybe I should draft this again and show you later."

Oh no. If she let Charlie stew in this, the scheme would somehow become even more harebrained in the retelling. Best to diffuse this now.

"It's not that. Your drawings are beautiful, babe. It's just..."

Vaggie paused, casting around for something pragmatic to say. Charlie had regained a little of her spark and leaned forward, eyes bright.

"Just what?" Charlie said, pushing her hair out of her face.

It looked cute like that, all tangled from sleep. Her clothes were rumpled, and she still had faint couch marks on her forehead. Vaggie wanted to gather her up and press a kiss to her forehead, not crush her fragile hopes.

Except there was no way this could work. That was the God's honest truth that she couldn't say aloud. It would crush Charlie's morale. She needed every scrap she could find after Lute had gone storming out of the hotel.

"I'm confused about the premise, I guess," Vaggie said. "Operation Angel-"

"Guardian Angel," Charlie enthused, pointing to the appropriate drawing on the board. It did indeed show a familiar seraph mid-flight. It was his passenger who gave Vaggie pause.

"Right. Operation Guardian Angel is supposed to...?"

Charlie bounced on her toes. "Make sure Dad goes out and starts living again. He hasn't been himself since Mom left."

Vaggie jabbed a finger at the second illustration. It looked like a before-and-after of another familiar figure. The first was frowning so severely that it creased his face. In the after portrait, his face was covered in kisses, and he was giving the viewer a thumbs up.

"And you really think hanging out with Adam is the way to make his life better? Charlie, he was there at the start of all this mess. Your mom wouldn't have even met your dad if he weren't such a prick. Sending them out to social functions together isn't a good idea. They don't get along."

Charlie's cheer didn't dim. If anything, she nearly glowed with satisfaction as she wagged a finger in Vaggie's direction.

"That's what I thought, too. Until I saw them together recently. Do you remember the night Lute came home with Verosika?"

Vaggie remembered. She still replayed the moment the pair had nearly toppled over the couch in a tangle of eager limbs. She'd been convinced the succubus might spread Lute like butter and eat her right there in front of everyone.

The real kicker? Lute hadn't pushed her away. There was a certain amount of heat you couldn't fake, even if you were putting on a show for someone else. Lute genuinely seemed to like the succubus. She didn't know if they'd fucked that night. Didn't want to know. But just the revelation had let her make sense of a few things in hindsight.

It was always the loudest homophobes. Vaggie supposed they had to be, if they were shouting from so far back in the closet.

"Vaguely," Vaggie said at last. "What does that have to do with this plan of yours?"

Charlie tapped another of the drawings. Vaggie wasn't sure how this one had fit in, even during the first round of explanations. It looked like a bed, but Vaggie wasn't sure what to make of the lumpy figures in the middle.

"Well, I was doing bed checks. I'd asked Dad to take Adam upstairs. I figured he could fly if Adam had passed out. I knew Husk wouldn't do it, even if I asked. I found them in bed together."

Vaggie's brows climbed. "Together-together? I didn't think Adam liked guys that way."

Charlie chewed her lip. "Well, no, not exactly. Dad was a dog, and Adam was using him like a pillow. But the point stands. He let Dad undress him and snuggle in bed. That's something, right?"

It was more care and compassion than Vaggie could have summoned for the smug bastard. Charlie took after her father in more than looks, even if she refused to see it most of the time.

"And you think that snuggling should lead to dances and formal occasions where a lot of important people will be present? That sounds like a recipe for disaster."

"That's where the points system comes in," she said, beaming at Vaggie. "I'll tell them both separately that I want to get the other out of the house, and by going with them, they can earn points toward something they want."

"So bribery?" Vaggie asked.

Charlie frowned. "It's not bribery. It's an incentive. Like wrapping the medicine in cheese. They both need to get out and meet new people. This is a great way to do that."

Vaggie sighed. Charlie was set on this, and nothing she said would dissuade her from this crazy scheme. At least this time it might be entertaining, even if it blew up in their faces.

"Fine. We'll give it a try. Just don't hang your hopes on it, okay?"

Vaggie might as well have been speaking to empty air. Charlie was already gathering her drawings from the board, muttering about a lunch date with her dad. Vaggie flopped back into bed and buried her face in the pillow. She might as well get more sleep.

She had a feeling she was going to need it.

Chapter Text

"If one more person takes a photo, I am going to start smashing phones," Lute muttered under her breath.

A short, round man was slowly but surely inching his way across the wall toward their booth. He looked to be around thirty and had plastered his dark hair back with gel, leaving his freckled face open to view. This was the third time he'd circled back to snap photos of them both. At least he was staying far enough away to keep Verosika's bodyguard from bouncing him out the door like a basketball. Still, the thought of anyone taking pictures of her to fap to later made Lute ill.

Verosika shrugged an elegant shoulder. It was distracting as hell. She'd adopted a human form for their jaunt in the mortal world, and the sun-browned skin on display looked edible. She'd wiggled herself into a sparkly black strapless number before her performance. It barely looked able to contain her lush proportions.

"It's part of being a public figure. Tex will take care of him if he gets close enough to see anything worthwhile."

Lute sank a little in her seat, wishing she could disappear. The crystal strapped to her wrist provided her with a human disguise as well, though it was nowhere as striking as Verosika's. Her hair had transformed into a mousy brown bob, her eyes dimming to a flat hazel, instead of their usual gold. She looked shorter and nearly waifish without her wings. The violet wrap dress she wore had been one of the only things in Verosika's closet that fit her.

"I don't see why they're so interested in getting me in the shot," Lute continued, as though she hadn't spoken. "I mean, it's not like I'm a model or a pop star. I'm boring set dressing."

Veroiska's eyes deepened to a sheen of burnished gold, instead of their usual tawny. It was the only inhuman thing she'd done in the twelve hours they'd been topside, and the reminder of her demonic nature made Lute's stomach perform a nervous roll. Nerves that only intensified as Verosika leaned in close to breathe her reply into her ear.

"They're interested in you because I rarely date. I don't keep someone on my arm for the hell of it. You have to be something special for me to expose you to the public."

Verosika's teeth found her ear and tugged gently. Heat flashed under her skin, a buzz of pure, unthinking pleasure. Lute fought not to whimper as the demoness continued trailing velvet soft kisses and hard nips down her throat.

"And Lute?"

She had to marshal her thoughts before she could reply with a shaky, "Yeah?"

"If you call yourself boring again, I'm going to tie you down and eat your pussy until you cry."

Not so long ago, a comment like that might have made Lute blush to her roots. After weeks of crashing in Verosika's apartment, she'd gained some social callouses and could usually shrug off overtures like that.

"You were going to do that anyway," Lute drawled.

Verosika's smile spread like warm honey, heating Lute from the inside out. "Very true."

"So I'll say what I think, if it's all the same to you," Lute said, sipping her margarita while tracking freckle-face out of the corner of one eye. "I'm not sex on legs, Ver. You can hype me up all you want, but I wasn't built for sin the way you are."

Verosika's lips had firmed into a tight line at her words. Lute almost apologized. Just because she thought of it as sinful didn't mean she had to throw it in the demon's face. She was being nice, after all. But when Verosika spoke, the words came out soft and a little sad.

"Ver, huh? I haven't heard that nickname in a while." Verosika circled the rim of her glass with one finger, not looking up at her. "That was Blitzo's favorite thing to call me."

Blitzo. Verosika mentioned him every so often when she got shitfaced. She'd heard a list of his misdeeds by now and couldn't figure out why a woman like Verosika would waste her time on a creep like that.

"Want me to punch him? I'm good at that."

Verosika gave a watery laugh and waved the offer away. "The best revenge is to have our fun and shake our heads at the stupidity of men."

"I'll toast to that," Lute said, raising her glass a little. She was feeling pleasantly fuzzy after her fourth. She tilted the glass toward the freckled man currently being hauled away by Tex. "To the stupidity of men."

Their glasses clinked, and Verosika had downed the contents of her glass in one pull. Lute was no stranger to drowning her sorrows in flavored liquor, but Verosika was soused more often than not these days.

"Maybe you should slow down. You're making me feel like the designated driver here."

Verosika's mouth thinned into a stubborn line. "I'm not drunk."

"Then maybe you should stop while you're ahead. It would be nice to make out without tasting brandy."

Verosika's stare thawed, but she didn't say anything right away. Lute could practically see the gears grinding behind her eyes. When she finally spoke, it was barely audible over the bounding beat.

"Is this your fucked up way of saying, 'I am worried about you?'"

Lute wanted to say no. It made no fucking sense to feel this way with a woman she'd met weeks ago. She shouldn't feel more peace in Veorsika's bed than in Adam's.

"Maybe," Lute finally managed. "I mean, you've made my life pretty tolerable. I don't like feeling like you're suffering in silence. You could just spit it out. You loved the guy, and he fucked you over. He made you do all the work, take all the risk, and when things got tough, he bailed. I understand what that feels like. But I don't want to give Adam the satisfaction of sponsoring my hangover every morning."

Verosika's lips twitched. "This hangover is sponsored by Blitzo the Circus Clown."

"See how ridiculous that sounds? You can't let him get away with that."

Lute's heart beat a little faster as Verosika leaned in to kiss her. It was hard not to melt into the booth as her arms slid over Lute's shoulders.

"You're amazing."

There was something unspeakably tender in the words. It cracked her chest and made her breathing shallow. Lute was terrified of the strength of the feeling. Hated that Verosika's eyes welled with anxious tears a moment later, when she said nothing.

"I'm sorry-"

"No," she cut in. "It's fine. You're fine. I'm..."

She trailed off, not sure how to end that sentence. Not sure? Not ready? Not feeling entirely sane?

"It's fine," Verosika said. "That came out clingier than I meant it to. I mean...it's nice to see your softer side once in a while. Thanks for being a friend."

Lute relaxed a little. Friends. She hadn't had many of those, even before her exile. The idea of adding Verosika to the list didn't seem so improbable these days.

"You'd do the same for me, right?"

Verosika leaned away, composing her expression, but her eyes remained uncharacteristically soft when she replied.

"In a heartbeat."