*MATURE CONTENT*

For my part, I tried my best not to make a fool of myself while going through the exercises. I knew that I was not in as good of shape as I used to be, and most certainly not in as good of shape as Lucifer. Well, that, coupled with the constant distraction of the man next to me made my life rather difficult. After the initial warmup, my arms were trembling, and my face colored embarrassingly. Much like my blush, when I exerted myself in the slightest, my face ended up like a ripe tomato.

Luce was, of course, not even breathing hard, and I scowled. He could at least have the decency to have one or two things wrong with him. It was common courtesy.

The damn man then decided to move on to stretches, a calculated move, no doubt, and I was sure at that moment that I was going to lose our little competition. I could already hear the traitorous little voice in my head, the weak-willed, submissive horn dog deep inside my brain:

If you get him, is it really losing?

Of course, it is! And we. Don't. Lose.

Yes, I was Monica from Friends. It was something about myself that I had long ago accepted. I mean, my inner loser definitely had a point; I wouldn't feel like I had lost for very long, I was sure, but I would be losing.

Hell. No.

So, with that thought, I threw myself into the stretches, hoping my straining muscles and tendons would distract me sufficiently. I knew it was a lost cause, but I could try, right?

We'd just started stretches when he spoke.

"Fuck this."

Then, I was against him, skin to skin, lips to lips.

LUCIFER'S POV

I sighed as she slammed the door in my face.

Oh yeah, she was mad.

But she was so damn cute when she was angry.

Her cheeks got adorably red, her eyes smoldered, and when she got real fired up and started to yell? Her perfectly formed chest heaved, and her defiance gave me an excuse to punish her accordingly. She was simply gorgeous, no matter what.

Lost in thought, I almost missed the sound of the bathroom lock clicking into place. I instantly panicked, rushing towards the door.

"Rika, unlock the door!" I shouted, hundreds of ugly scenarios swirling through my mind. She could slip and hit her head...she could try to leave me...she could get shampoo in her eye...

I didn't want to ruin my bathroom door if she got shampoo in her eye.

"Why the Hell would I do that, you perv?" she groused, ignoring my pleading.

Fuck.

I let out a barely audible growl as I envisioned it: her, naked in the shower. Water soaking her scarlet hair, cascading down her shoulders, across her breasts, over her stomach towards-

No, stay in control! You are an ancient being of immense power. You can handle this.

I took a deep breath to solidify my resolve, but it backfired immediately as I got a lungful of her intoxicating scent.

"I'd rather not break down this door if you need me," I replied, hoping she didn't notice how husky my voice was.

"I won't be needing you, so drop it or I'll drop you!" Her voice was muffled, and any response I had was cut off.

Was she getting naked while I was right behind this door?

Forget about her needing help. I was about to break down this fucking door right now, for far less noble reasons.

I don't know what sort of reserve of willpower I tapped into to do so, but I pulled myself away from the bathroom door. It felt like I was tearing myself in half by doing so, but I knew my Rika wasn't ready for me, and certainly I wasn't going to push her.

Especially not now.

My blood boiled, bubbling like magma in my veins. My fists clenched so hard that golden blood dripped onto the floor from where my nails broke the skin of my palms. I barely registered the pinpricks of pain. That pain was nothing compared to the agony I felt deep within my chest at the very idea of that perverse motherfucker touching her.

Michael hadn't always been this way. I remember when I was the angelic equivalent of a teenager, only a few thousand years old. He'd followed me closer than my own shadow and had adored me in the way only a younger sibling could. I smiled vacantly. He'd been the sweetest child, always asking questions, constantly hungry for knowledge of the world. It had inflated my teenage ego; no kid was immune to that type of hero-worship.

And then something, no, everything changed.

Practically overnight, he morphed into a creature I hadn't recognized. He'd shaved his long, blond hair close to his head, and clutched his heart close to his chest. He became dismissive and moody. At the time, I'd been a young man, and I assumed it was some sort of teenage emo phase. I'd been blinded by love and refused to see what was right in front of me. He started going to Earth more and more, had formed a gang with other angels and Gabriel. He'd become cruel and vindictive.

And then I fell.

Maybe this is my fault.

I'd abandoned my younger brother in a time of crisis. I'd been so absorbed in my responsibility to serve Heaven that I forgot my responsibility to my family. Maybe he wouldn't have turned out this way.

A lovely humming emanated from the bathroom door, and I shook my head in anger.

No, no good being would treat anyone the way Michael had treated my Gift.

He was rotten to his very core.

A few minutes later, (which felt like an eternity), my Gift shut off the shower and padded into the room. I glanced over my book, only to stiffen in shock.

Rika was wet, lovely, and in. My. Robe.

She shuffled bashfully, flipping her wet hair to expose one pale shoulder. The neck of my robe started to slip, so she quickly caught it and pulled it up. But not before it revealed the suggestion of the curve of her breast. It was only a fraction of a glimpse, but it caused a very specific part of my anatomy to stiffen.

Father fucking dammit; I just took care of that.

"Do you feel better, Love?" I asked, cursing at how guttural my voice was. Fuck, she tore me to pieces with the simplest of things.

"Much, thank you," she responded, her voice clearer than the song of my sibling angels in Heaven, "now, would you mind if I get dressed?"

Was she actively trying to kill me?

Unable to resist, I grinned at her wolfishly, "not at all."

If I got to see her bare, I would die happily.

She was not amused, sternly waving at me to turn around. Conceding, albeit reluctantly, I faced the opposite wall and started counting.

If I got to thirty, I was turning right back around.

"No peeking!" she commanded, and I resisted the urge to turn back around and remind her of who commanded who. I was so hard it hurt, but I fisted my hands at my thighs and burned a hole in the wall with my glare.

"Just don't take too long, Kitten, lest the temptation become too much for me."

Evidently, my tone of voice convinced her of my seriousness, because she let out the most adorable squeak and I heard the frantic rustling of clothing behind me.

20...21...22...23

The rustling continued, and I dug my nails into my palms again. It did not help in the slightest.

28...29...30.

I slowly turned around, just in time to see her yank her shirt over her head, giving me a view of her smooth back and black lacy bra that I had picked out for her.

I was going to need to take a very long, cold shower after this.

"You can-" she stopped short when she saw me, fire burning in her eyes. Not the sexy fire, either. The I-am-going-to-cut-your-dick-off-and-feed-it-to-you-like-a-hotdog kind of fire. I smirked.

"Don't worry, Rika. I didn't see anything. Unfortunately."

She tried to look stern, but just looked like a ruffled kitten. Tiny, pissed, and ridiculously sweet.

"You better not have, Lucie."

When she sassed me, I wanted to teach her other ways to use her smart, pretty mouth. I also didn't want to make her uncomfortable, however, so I just drank her in. Her perfect, jean clad legs, her soft, freckled skin, her elegant, pale throat.

As I stared at her neck, my mind flashed back to when I first found her. Father, it felt like eons ago. Her beautiful face had been swollen, her neck covered in fingerprint-shaped bruises. We were going to war in two weeks. She could get hurt like that again. I would rather die than put her in danger, but in order to accuse Michael, the laws of Heaven required that I bring forth his victim. She would walk into the lion's den, and I would be the one bringing her there like an offering.

But she was no weakling.

"When we first met, you kicked me in the balls," I mused to myself.

She rewarded my statement with her lovely blush.

"Well, you were manhandling me. I was just defending myself. To be honest, I'd do it again."

Warmth flooded me, and I wanted to gather her in my arms and keep her there.

"I know. And it's one of your many attractive qualities. However," the grin slipped from my face, "you also, despite your best efforts, will be helpless against a real supernatural opponent."

She struck her you're-being-an-ass pose, "I like how you carefully ignore the fact that I killed an angel before you even really met me."

"And that astonished me," I acknowledged to placate her, "however, I surprised them, you were desperate, you almost died, and he was a minor angel. Counterpoint: a hellhound almost made you into kibble."

I wouldn't allow her to be hurt in that way ever again.

"Point taken," she huffed, her face pained, "but it's hardly my fault that I've got measly human senses and abilities."

"In a real, pitched battle, you'd be slaughtered, and I would be too occupied to keep you safe."

I was powerful, but I knew in my heart that Michael was too corrupt to take responsibility; there would be war, and I would have to take on two archangels at once. I could do it, no doubt. But I couldn't mess around like I had with Khamael, Adriel, and Ezekiel. They would have my full, undivided attention whilst I fought them.

"You are going to train me, which I am very interested in," she said confidently, slowly, "but you also are expecting to fight a battle in which you are occupied by a battle. You mean to fight the two archangels?"

I couldn't meet her eyes. I wanted to lie to her, to tell her it wouldn't come to that. But I respected her too much to treat her that way.

"Well, I wish you'd brought this up before I had a shower, but let's get started. I'm sure you have some sort of gym or dojo in this giant labyrinth of a castle, right?"

"What-" I snapped, whirling to face her. She glared back at me, daring me to argue.

"Well, if you expect to be in a battle, you'll need me to be able to protect you, and I can hardly do that without your training," she bent down, her warm, sweet lips pressing against my skin. At that moment, I would've died happily.

Damn, she had me wrapped around her little finger.

"You are only to protect yourself in a battle, you hear me, Rika?" I ordered. I couldn't have her intervening in a fight with me and my brothers. Gabe and Michael would only use her against me.

"No."

"Rika..." I growled. I refused to budge on this matter. When her safety was concerned, I was in complete control. She would come to understand that in time.

"This isn't important," she purred, her tiny, warm hands searing my thighs.

Don't throw her on the bed. Don't throw her on the bed.

I let out a strangled cough, "well, we have fourteen days," I couldn't resist, I reached out and tucked a stray curl behind her ear, "we'd better get started."

But tonight, I'll take you over my knee and teach you who has control of your well-being.

If I thought my Rika was tempting before, I'd clearly forgotten how tempting she was when she was fighting her desire.

We'd just arrived at the dojo, and I'd changed into my gym clothes. I could hardly fight in my button down. Now, seeing her lovely green eyes darkened with lust, glued to my arms and chest, I planned to burn my regular clothing. If it got this sort of reaction from her, I'd live in this shirt.

I dropped the mats on the wooden floor, snapping her out of her trance. Her eyes flicked to mine, conflicted. She bit her full, pink bottom lip, her teeth worrying it distractedly. I smirked at her knowingly.

Now she knows how I feel around her every. Damn. Moment.

"Well how do you expect me to focus?" she snarled, her lust and embarrassment warring in her face. I was puzzled for a moment. Why was she embarrassed? There was nothing to be embarrassed about. We were made to be together, of course she'd be attracted to me.

But of course, she was innocent and inexperienced. I loved that about her, but I needed to teach her not to be ashamed of how she felt. Human society had done nothing but teach her that her desires were wrong and unnatural.

"It's for mobility, Rika. I can hardly do this in jeans," I gestured to my form broadly, knowing the movement of my arms would please her. Sure enough, she fell back into her lustful daze.

"Well...your shirt...Jesus Christ." She yelped sweetly in response to my languid stretch. I loved her so much in her heated state; she was irresistible.

"I'm terribly sorry, Rika. That was inconsiderate of me. I'll fix this," I reassured her, inwardly grinning wickedly.

"What do you-"

I slowly pulled off my shirt, exposing my chest bit by bit. When I tossed it aside, she was drinking me in, her eyes burning my skin with their intensity. I shivered, realizing my plan may have slightly backfired. Now, I wanted to give her what she wanted: me.

She's not ready. You just need to ease her in slowly. Don't lose control.

I let her look her fill gladly. I didn't want to speak, lest I cause her embarrassment and make her retreat into her shell again. To my surprise, when she finally looked back at me, her eyes were filled with steely resolve.

Then, she did the worst thing imaginable.

She took off her shirt.

I had stepped forward to stop her, fearing for the thin thread of control I maintained. I froze midstep, my hand falling to my side as all thought processes dissolved. She stood there proudly, her soft white skin taunting me. Of their own accord, my eyes drifted downwards, slowly, committing every dip and curve to memory. They followed the soft slope of her shoulder, to the elegant plane of her collarbone. I devoured her curved waist and stomach with my eyes, before finally, painfully halting at her chest.

I was a man. I could hardly be expected to do otherwise.

Her breasts were mostly covered by the black sports bra, but the teasing cutouts on the middle and sides exposed her luscious cleavage and hinted at their shape. They looked the perfect size to fit in my palm, and my hands trembled as I resisted the urge to investigate that. Her nipples poked out through the thick material, silently begging for my touch. I wanted to tear that fucking scrap of cloth to shreds and burn it.

Apparently, my heated gaze finally got to her, because she shifted uncomfortably and crossed her arms. Unfortunately for my extremely tenuous self-control, this only pushed her breasts up like twin offerings, and my hands lurched at my sides. I clenched my jaw so hard I thought my teeth would crack.

I forced myself to look at her face. She battled her nervousness for a moment, before settling back into her triumphant smugness.