AN. Song is 'I'm Yours' by Jason Mraz.
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Stephen wanted to move closer and wanted to pull away. Both at once.
His body was betraying him, torn between instinct and reason, between heat and hesitation.
And Lucifer—of course, Lucifer saw. His golden gaze flickered, sharp and knowing.
Then, just as the tension reached a razor's edge, Lucifer's lips parted and he started singing again. Fortunately, not the low, sinful hum from before. Not the teasing seduction of spellbound words meant to tempt him forward.
It was something else. Something lighter, but still sincere.
"Well, you done done me and you bet I felt it…"
Stephen blinked.
Lucifer's voice was soft, easy, carrying a melody so effortless, so natural, it felt like sunlight cutting through the thick haze in Stephen's mind.
"I tried to be chill, but you're so hot that I melted…"
Lucifer's fingers idly moved over the piano keys, playing along, his voice effortlessly warm.
"I fell right through the cracks… and now I'm tryin' to get back…"
Stephen exhaled, not realizing he'd been holding his breath.
His body—tense, uncertain—felt a fraction looser at the shift in atmosphere.
The moment still hummed with something unspoken, but Lucifer wasn't pushing, wasn't pressing. He was just…singing.
And Stephen let him.
"But I won't hesitate no more, no more…"
Lucifer's voice dipped lower, richer.
"It cannot wait… I'm yours."
Stephen's stomach tightened. Because there was something in the way Lucifer sang that line, something about the way it wasn't just a song anymore.
Like—like there was meaning in it.
Like he meant it.
"Open up your mind and see like me…"
Stephen inhaled sharply.
"Open up your plans and damn, you're free…"
Stephen was confused. His fingers curled into the edge of the piano bench, gripping it as if to keep himself steady.
"Look into your heart and you'll find love, love, love…"
Lucifer kept singing, utterly unbothered, golden eyes half-lidded as he let the melody flow, as if he weren't shaking something loose inside of Stephen.
"It cannot wait, I'm sure. There's no need to complicate…."
Stephen swallowed.
"This is our fate, I'm yours…"
Maybe he was going crazy.
Because for one insane second, he thought—he thought he heard sincerity in Lucifer's voice, like he wasn't just singing, but speaking.
To him.
Stephen didn't move as he didn't know what to do.
Lucifer just kept playing. Kept singing.
Like he had all the time in the world to wait for Stephen to catch up.
When the song was over and Lucifer opened his mouth—to talk or to continue singing, he didn't know—Stephen couldn't help the way his hand moved to cover his mouth, but he had to do it. He needed to think, clearly for just a moment.
Without him noticing, Lucifer raised a brow, eyes flicking down to the hand covering his mouth, then back to Stephen's tightly shut eyes.
For a moment, there was only silence.
Then—very deliberately—Lucifer licked the center of Stephen's palm.
Stephen yanked his hand away with a disgusted noise, wiping it on his pants.
"You're insufferable," he hissed, glaring at Lucifer, who just smirked.
"And you're adorable when you're flustered, Doctor," Lucifer purred, tilting his head, watching him like a cat playing with a mouse.
Stephen scowled. He wasn't flustered. He was just being rational. Needed to be rational, in fact, because his heart was pounding and his skin was too warm and Lucifer's voice was still ringing in his head.
"I've got a girlfriend," Stephen blurted out, louder than intended.
Lucifer hummed, tapping his fingers against his knee.
"How very traditional of you," he said, not even remotely deterred.
Stephen exhaled sharply. "I mean it."
Lucifer's smirk remained, but something in his gaze shifted, a flicker of something unreadable, before he smoothly said, "Alright."
And that was it. Lucifer leaned back. There was no taunting. No teasing. Just…acceptance.
And somehow, that was worse.
Because Lucifer wasn't fighting him or trying to push, wasn't insisting.
He was just watching him like he was waiting for Stephen to realize something first.
Stephen didn't like the way Lucifer made him feel.
Like he was an unsolved puzzle and something to be unraveled.
The worst part wasn't just Lucifer.
It was him.
He didn't understand himself right now and didn't understand why Lucifer's songs had hit him like a freight train, why Lucifer's wings—warm and soft against his skin—had felt like something he'd been missing.
Why he was still standing here, still looking at him, still not walking away.
Stephen cleared his throat, shifting back.
"Shame, really," Lucifer murmured, almost to himself.
Stephen frowned. "What is?"
Lucifer's lips curled, but his golden eyes were too knowing.
"You," he said simply.
Then, with a flick of his wrist, he summoned a glass of whiskey from thin air and took a slow sip, letting the moment settle.
Stephen clenched his jaw because, for some reason, it felt like he'd just lost something. So, he tried to joke.
"Are you an incubus?" Stephen said, but it felt a bit flat to his ears. "Because you're really smooth."
"Oh, darling," Lucifer purred, stretching lazily, his wings shifting ever so slightly behind him. "You do know how to make a fallen angel blush. Am I really that good at singing, dear doctor? Are you falling in love with me, perhaps? If you want, I can tell the girlfriend about us?"
Stephen regretted everything, immediately.
He shouldn't have said it and fed Lucifer's ego.
"There's no 'us'," he tried, but it was too late. Lucifer was smirking like the cat that got the cream, his golden eyes twinkling with pure, unfiltered delight.
And worse?
That frown from earlier was gone, the one that flashed across his face before Stephen made the joke.
Whatever had made him hesitate—whatever had flickered across his expression, just for that brief moment—it had vanished behind that devastating charm.
Stephen scowled, crossing his arms.
"Don't get used to it," he muttered.
Lucifer leaned in once again. "Too late."
Stephen needed to leave. Now. His pulse was betraying him because Lucifer was too close and his damn wings were once again brushing against him, and—
Lucifer's smirk deepened.
Stephen could feel the warmth of his breath against his skin as he murmured, "Tell me, dear doctor…"
His voice dropped, silk-wrapped steel, smooth and dangerous. "Do you think your girlfriend would agree?"
Stephen snapped back. "I hate you."
Lucifer laughed, genuine and bright.
And Stephen hated how much he liked that sound.
After laughing, Lucifer leaned in and watched him carefully. Not like a predator watching prey—no, that would be too easy. He watched Stephen like a riddle he was in the middle of solving.
Like every reaction, every flicker of hesitation, every hint of relief Stephen tried to hide was just another piece falling into place.
And that made Stephen nervous.
"You said you only wanted to be my friend," he said to Lucifer and to himself.
Lucifer shrugs. "One can change opinion, no?"
The words help him a little to regain some clarity. He dryly says, "You sound so superficial."
He shouldn't expect much. After all, even if Lucifer is an angel, he's also the Devil, after all.
"Ah," Lucifer exhaled dramatically, rolling his shoulders. "So that's the problem, then. You don't share."
Stephen scoffed, crossing his arms and not feeling defensive at all.
"No," he said flatly. "I don't."
Lucifer's smirk widened, just slightly.
"Selfish," he teased.
Stephen held his ground. "Absolutely. Do you even do monogamy?"
"Never tried it after I fell," Lucifer said, chuckling. "However, are you certain this is a conversation you should be having? When you have such a lovely, devoted girlfriend and all?"
Stephen felt his face heat up despite himself.
"You're the one who keeps pushing," he muttered.
Lucifer sighed theatrically. "Well, forgive me for indulging in such an interesting discussion."
Stephen narrowed his eyes.
"You know," Lucifer mused, swirling his whiskey lazily, "it's curious how you keep looking for reasons to push me away."
Stephen stiffened.
"And yet," Lucifer continued, golden eyes locking onto him, "you're still here."
There was a heavy and charged silence following that statement.
Stephen inhaled sharply, clenching his jaw.
Because Lucifer was right.
And he hated that, because Lucifer didn't even sound smug about it. He just sounded…certain. Like he already knew how this was going to end. Like he was just waiting for Stephen to realize it.
Stephen needed to leave.
Now.
Before Lucifer made him question even more things.
Before he started looking for even more reasons to stay.
.
.
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I'm getting to old to study, work, and move to a new house, on top of writing of course. Oh well. Happy Birthday to me, I guess?
Also, if you want to support me and read chapters ahead, go to my p@treon: JorieDS