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He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t brush my hands away either as I start to help him out of the armor. It’s intricate work, but together, we free him from it, and I can finally see the damage. The wounds appear to already be closing, but they are still painful looking. Wincing slightly at the sight, I take him by the hand and guide him to the foot of the bed.
“Wait here,” I tell him, and although he narrows his eyes, he doesn’t move as I head into the bathroom.
I’ve been here long enough to understand some of the basic supplies that our bathing room has come equipped with, and although there’s nothing like the first aid kit I have in my bathroom back on Earth, there are some things that I’m pretty sure are meant to have healing capabilities.
I doubt they’ll help his injuries much, especially considering he’s got healing powers of his own, but it won’t hurt. And I have to dosomething. I’ve felt so useless in all of this, and if there’s one thing I’m going to do, it’s take care of him.
After grabbing a few elixirs and cloths, I head back out to Lucifer and kneel before him. With a cautious touch, I clean the wound on his shoulder first, unable to keep from grimacing as I do.
“Fuck. I can’t imagine how awful these were when you first got them,” I breathe.
“They will heal.”
His words aren’t exactly cold, but I can tell he’s detached from them. I bite my lip, focusing on the task in front of me to try to keep my own emotions under control.
“Let me know if it hurts, okay? What I’m doing, I mean.”
He doesn’t say anything, and I don’t mind. I can’t begin to comprehend what he’s probably gone through today—and I likely don’t want to. But I think it’s pretty understandable that he isn’t in a chatty mood. I don’t press it, just gently dab at cleaning every wound I see. There are a lot of minor scrapes that I know will disappear in a matter of minutes, but I clean them anyway, even though I know it’s as much for me as it is for him.
I just need to take care of him right now.
As I start to work on cleaning the blood away from a gash over his ribs on the right side, Lucifer makes a noise low in his throat. His large hands grip my hips, pulling me down onto his lap. The movement makes a small trail of blood drip from the still-healing wound on his side, and I squirm a little, trying to get up.
“I’m supposed to be taking care of you,” I say, tugging at the iron bands of his arms around me. “Helpingyou.”
“Who says this isn’t helping?” His voice rumbles against me, deep and gravelly.
“I don’t see how it could be,” I insist. “What you need right now is to heal and rest. You need—”
“This,” he emphasizes, squeezing me closer to him, “is what I need. Having you close, with me, around me, is what heals me.”
The simple sincerity in his voice hits me right in the chest, and I go still in his embrace. I don’t know what I expected him to say, but it certainly wasn’t that. I turn to stare up at him, swallowing as his amber flecked eyes gaze down at me.
“You’re injured,” I remind him in a low whisper, my heart beating hard. “Let me at least do something for the wounds that aren’t all the way closed. I’ll stay right where I am, I promise.”
He doesn’t respond with words, but he loosens his grip enough to allow me to settle into a more comfortable position on his lap. It’s not quite as easy to clean the gashes on his skin from this angle, but I do what I can, carefully wiping at the slowly closing cut over his ribs.
As my hands roam over his body, Lucifer does the same—except instead of looking for injuries on me, he’s just groping me, shamelessly palming my breasts through my clothes and pinching my nipples through the fabric.
I hiss out a breath when he traps one nipple between his knuckles and twists slightly as he tugs on it, and he grins at me.
“Does that hurt?” he asks, heat burning in his eyes.
I poke the nearly healed wound at his side—the gash has closed entirely now, leaving a seam of pink, shiny new skin—and he jerks, his body tensing beneath mine.
“Doesthathurt?” I ask, arching a challenging brow at him even as he palms my breasts again.
“Nothing you do could ever hurt me,” he says, sliding his hands down to my ass to pull me tighter against him. “Can’t you tell?”
He grinds his cock against me as he speaks, letting me feel how hard he is, and my clit throbs needily as my core clenches. His wounds are all closed by now—more thanks to his healing power than to my ministrations, I admit—and I’ve at least wiped away most of the blood that stained his skin. So I don’t feel too bad that my thoughts have suddenly shifted away from taking care of his wounds to taking care of him in an entirely different way.
What can I say? Lucifer has a way of making me want to sin.
I press against the firm restraints of his arms, and this time, he gives way, allowing me to slide off his lap. Holding his gaze, I set the blood-stained cloth aside and then sink to my knees in front of him, dragging my nails down his muscled thighs before getting to work on undoing his pants.
He shifts his weight to help me work them down, and once they’re out of the way enough for me to free his cock, I wrap my fingers around his warm, pulsing length.
A muscle in Lucifer’s jaw ticks, and I fight back a smile as I drag my tongue slowly up the underside of his shaft. When I reach the tip, I take the head of his cock into my mouth and suck on it. He lets out a heavy breath and a slight chuckle.
