Page 18 of Devil Wears Nada
His hands slid under my shirt, no longer cool but warm with increasingly human heat. The touch was gentle, exploratory, as if he were discovering me for the first time.
“Take me to bed, Lucas,” he whispered. “I want to feel what this is like—making love rather than just having spectacularly destructive sex.”
I stood, pulling him up with me. “Are you sure? That sounds dangerously close to sentimentality for a prince of Hell.”
“Former prince,” he corrected, allowing me to lead him toward the bedroom. “Current fashion collaborator and…” he hesitated, then finished with a vulnerability that made my heart ache, “…hopeful life partner?”
“Life partner,” I repeated, tasting the words. “I like the sound of that.”
Chapter 10
In the bedroom, we undressed each other slowly, with none of our usual frantic urgency. I unbuttoned his shirt one button at a time, pressing kisses to each new inch of exposed skin. He returned the favor, his hands steady but his breath catching as he pushed my shirt from my shoulders.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, running his hands over my chest with something like reverence. “I’ve told you that before, but I don’t think you understood that I meant it beyond the physical.”
“Coming from the embodiment of beauty, that’s quite a compliment,” I said, guiding him to the bed.
“Former embodiment,” he corrected again as he lay back against the pillows. “Now I’m just extraordinarily good-looking by human standards.”
I laughed, settling between his legs. “Your humility continues to astound me.”
“Some things don’t change, even with mortality looming,” he said with a grin that quickly softened as I lowered myself to cover his body with mine. “Though other things change entirely.”
We moved together with unhurried tenderness, learning each other’s bodies in this new context of acknowledged love. I took my time preparing him, watching his face as pleasure built slowly, steadily, without the frantic edge that usually characterized our encounters.
When I finally pushed inside him, Van’s eyes locked with mine, wide and wondering.
“I can feel you,” he whispered, arms wrapping around my shoulders to hold me close. “Not just physically, but… everywhere. Is this what it’s always like for humans?”
“Not always,” I said, beginning to move with gentle, measured thrusts. “Only when it matters. Only when it’s love.”
Van’s breath hitched, his body arching to meet mine. “It’s overwhelming.”
“Too much?” I asked, stilling with concern.
“No,” he said quickly, pulling me closer. “Perfect. Don’t stop.”
We moved together in the golden afternoon light, learning a new language of intimacy neither of us had spoken before. I watched Van’s face as he experienced lovemaking through his increasingly human senses—the wonder, the vulnerability, the unguarded pleasure.
No mirrors broke. No lightbulbs shattered. Instead, as we approached climax together, the air around us seemed to shimmer with a soft, golden light that emanated from Van himself—a last remnant of his supernatural nature, transformed by love into something new.
“Lucas,” he gasped, clinging to me as his release approached. “I love you. I love you.”
The words, spoken in that moment of complete vulnerability, undid me. I followed him over the edge, our bodies and souls entwined in a moment of perfect union.
Afterward, as we lay tangled together in the sheets, Van traced patterns on my chest with his fingertips.
“So that’s making love,” he mused, sounding both satisfied and thoughtful. “I see why humans make such a fuss about it.”
I laughed, pulling him closer. “Does it live up to demonic sex?”
“Different,” he said after a moment of consideration. “Less physically overwhelming, perhaps, but more… complete. I didn’t break anything, but I feel more shattered than ever before.” He looked up at me, a hint of his old mischief returning. “Though I still maintain that shattering your bathroom mirror that time we tried shower sex was a highlight of my supernatural career.”
“My super thinks I have a poltergeist,” I reminded him. “I’m running out of explanations for the broken glass.”
“Soon you won’t need explanations,” he said, a touch of wistfulness in his voice. “Once I’m fully mortal, that particular party trick will be gone.”
I hugged him closer, sensing his complex feelings about his transformation. “Are you sure this is what you want? Mortality? Aging? All the messy, complicated parts of human existence?”
