He hates her the moment he sees her, and she knows it. His eyes narrow, and his lip curls, but the only thing Lilith can think in that moment is how beautiful he is. He wears the shape of a man, but he’s clearly not, something far more radiant and lovely than Adam could ever hope to be. She can tell he’s angry and dangerous and powerful and absolutely willing and capable of crushing her into nothing.
She can also tell he’s alone.
She follows him for a time, watching how he moves and how he always turns his face up towards the stars with a sense of longing in his eyes. He knows she’s there, she’s quite sure, but he doesn’t acknowledge her for a long time. Lilith tells herself that she’s being practical. This man could lead her to food or shelter, provisions better than the meagre things she uses to survive, but he never does. She wonders how he does not starve.
She selects a fish, something glistening and fresh that she pulls from the river herself. The flesh is bright and ruddy, and Lilith plucks the bones out and discards them so that everything is smooth and clean by the time she goes to present it to him. It’s dripping, red like her lips, and she holds it out with a calm, expectant gaze.
Lilith doesn’t understand what he says, but she’s sure it’s an insult from the way he snarls the word. She smiles. It makes no sense. The air around him crackles, and he seems to suck the light out of the sky and pull it into his being. Regardless of this, she is not afraid of him. No, Lilith has already decided from that scowl and that smooth growl of a voice that she wants him.
“Fish,” she says plainly, holding her gift out. She drags the word out like she’s talking to a child.
“I know what a fish is,” he snaps.
If Lilith is surprised, she hides it well, but her eyes brighten with delight. She tears a chunk of flesh off and holds it out to him. “Eat,” she explains.
“I’ve no need,” he says, pushing past her, but she follows him, right on his heels, lured by the way the air seems to hum around him.
“You don’t eat?” she asks.
“I’m an angel,” he says, and the word is enough to make her stop.
Lilith freezes, toes stretched half through a step, transfixed by the word. “Angels guard the garden,” she whispers.
There’s a moment where he seems ready to flee, like he’s given away some dark and filthy secret. He stands, poised and terribly tense, hesitating still, then turning slowly to look at her. He swallows, though he has no need, a painfully human gesture. “Have you seen them?”
She shakes her head. “No.”
There’s sadness in his eyes when he nods, downcast with disappointment and yet unsurprised.
“Do you know them?”
He looks up quietly, and it’s the first time she’s seen his eyes up close. They tell her far more than his words. “I thought so,” he whispers, after a moment.
Lilith steps forward, captivated by the strange vulnerability in his eyes. “What’s your name, angel?”
He licks his lips, and Lilith thinks she likes that gesture too. For something she can tell is immense and powerful, there’s something charmingly boyish in his nervousness. He holds her gaze and says, “Lucifer.”
“Lucifer,” she repeats, rolling the name off her tongue. “I’m--”
“I know who you are.”
“Of course you do.” She smiles and reaches for his arm, not at all offended when he flinches out of the touch. “You should follow me. It’s going to rain soon, Lucifer.”
“I am an angel,” he says again, a pointed break between each syllable.
“And that means you like to sit out in the rain?”
“Very well, Lucifer. If you should like to sit out in the rain by yourself, I shall not stop you.”
It’s the “by yourself” that gets him, she knows, grinning secretly when she hears his footsteps behind her. This angel, this Lucifer absolutely radiates loneliness. She feels a certain pity for him, but she entertains little else.
He lingers in the opening to the cave she calls her dwelling, watching with a curious tilt of his head as she heaps up skins and grass to make her bed.
“Do you sleep?”
Lilith tilts her head, mimicking his posture for a moment before dropping the skin draped over her shoulders to the floor, stepping past the pool of fur at her feet, and reaching to untie her hair. She keeps her back turned, but she feels his eyes on her. An angel, Lilith reminds herself, but one in the body of a man.
“Are you just going to watch?” she asks.
“What are you going to do?”
She laughs softly. “What indeed.”
Lucifer doesn’t seem to understand, which only delights Lilith more. There’s something immense and dark in his eyes, yet it’s balanced by the sense of naivety. She turns, pushing her hair back from her shoulders, stretching the delicate curve of her neck.
“Would you like to lie down?”
“I don’t know.”
“How do you not know?”
“I have never done so; thus, I do not know if I would like it.”
Lilith smiles again, pressing her lips together at the center to withhold the gesture and avoid the potential to mock him. He’s proud, she can tell. He stands straight, shoulders squared, chin lifted.
“You should try it.”
“It feels good.”
She reaches, fingers brushing on the insides of his wrists, and she can feel his blood moving. Lilith tells herself that his pulse quickens at the touch, but she’s not exactly sure. Still, she pulls him along, stepping backwards across the cave floor until her feet find the softness of furs and worn skins. Lilith lowers herself slowly, pulling him with her and relishing in how he bends to the gentlest pressure. She presses her hand against his chest, fingers splayed as she pushes him down. Now, she is certain his heart skips.
Lucifer’s chest is taut muscle, tan skin that is deliciously smooth and warm under Lilith’s touch. There is no illusion here. They both know that he’s allowing her to hold him there, but that doesn’t diminish her enjoyment of how he looks laid out beneath her. There’s a strange tension to his body, every muscle coiled and ready to pounce, but his eyes are calm, and he blinks slowly, almost hazily, as he looks up at her. She lies across him, using his body as a support to cradle hers and relishing the firmness and the warmth of companionship for the first time since she marched out of Eden.
“You breathe,” she whispers, tracing a finger across his chest.
“Hmm…” Lilith closes her eyes and falls asleep.
She doesn’t see him again for some time. She assumes that she scared him off. For all he looks like a man, she sensed something wild, saw something almost animalistic behind his eyes. It’s strange to think she misses him, considering she only met him once, but there’s something about that radiance that he simply seems to exude that she longs for.
The rain comes again, a torrential downpour that drenches her and has her fleeing to her cave earlier than usual. She strips naked and huddles under a skin to dry, almost missing the shadow that the figure casts in the opening. Lilith turns, sitting upright and tilting her head. She’s surprised, but she won’t let that show.
“Decided you don’t like the rain?” she asks.
“I do like it,” Lucifer says quietly.
“Then why are you here?”
“I don’t know.” He steps forward, and she knows after one look in his eyes why he’s come.
The angel is lonely.
“Come here,” she whispers, and he does.
He drops to his knees, turning like he’s going to lie down as before, but this time, Lilith catches him. Her fingers curve around his jaw, turning his face so that she can fit her lips against his. He makes a curious noise in his throat at the first brush of her tongue, and she realizes, quite happily, that he’s never been touched. Once more, she presses her hands to his chest, easing him onto his back and smiling against his lips at how he allows himself to be moved. She keeps her focus on his mouth, sucking and nibbling his bottom lip as she runs her hands down the length of his body, feeling a rush of heat beneath her fingertips that proves this angel’s body works like any other man’s would. The skins slide off her shoulders, pool at her waist, fall away completely as she moves one leg across his thighs, a contrast of milky white against honey tan, easing herself up onto his hips. Lilith rolls her hips once, feeling his erection press against her and laughing softly at how his breath stutters at the lightest contact.
Lucifer leans up, trying to kiss more, trying to touch more, trying to get more of whatever this is. His hands are firm on Lilith’s waist, holding her there and hoping that she’ll make that little move again. She chides him with a little click of her tongue and whispers, “Relax,” before laying her hands over his and guiding his fingers over her body. She’s lines of firm muscle blending into soft curves, and she likes that he’s careful without being overly delicate with her. She opens her eyes when his hands stop halfway up the insides of her thighs and gives him a permissive nod before he’ll slide his fingers between where their bodies rest against each other. He’s observant, which she likes, noting every catch of breath and twitch of her face that indicates whether she likes what he’s doing. She opens her eyes halfway to find him staring at her face with something like awe.
“Enough,” she says, pushing his hand away. He looks disappointed for a second before she has shifted to pull off the thin covering around his waist. As he was, she’s careful without being too soft, wrapping her hand around him and giving a few testing strokes to introduce him to the contact. His lashes flutter, and his lips fall open in the first moan of pleasure. Lilith smiles, lifting her own body up and using her hand to guide him into her, gasping with him the second time. She braces herself against him, hands on his chest as she lifts and rocks her hips in a steady rhythm, and when he reaches up, hands running up her thighs before holding her hips to guide the motion, she lets him, somehow balancing control between them. He doesn’t last long, but she’s not disappointed. His first time and already he knows how to keep his hands moving across her skin, how to support her weight just so, how to let her control the motion near the end so that she’s throwing her head back and crying out with him as she feels his muscles tensing under her hands.
When it’s over, she leans forward, touching her forehead to his and enshrouding them in a curtain of red that falls over her shoulders as she catches her breath. Somehow, she expects disgust or shame in his gaze, but she finds none, and she kisses him again, different now, soft and affectionate like he means something to her. It’s idiotic and asinine, and Lilith hates herself for it, but Lucifer kisses her back like there’s something there that he wants too, and she decides to let herself have this.
He’s there when she wakes in the morning and for many others that follow. She captivates him, memorizes him, learns every way to make him cry out in bliss. In the years that come after, they’ll say he twisted her. They’ll say he corrupted her and tortured her and turned her into something else, and Lilith will just laugh. She was already corrupt, already disgraced and exiled. Lucifer didn’t turn her into anything she wasn’t already. He just gave her a reason to embrace it.