Things were getting heated in Mammon's room. Couch pillows were thrown to the floor to make space for two bodies occupying the space of one. Mammon loomed over you, his weight pinning you between cushions and the armrest. All his fidgeting caused your shirt to ride up and the feather clip on his belt tickled the side of your waist. He tilted your head into his palm and rubbed a thumb along your neck as both of you locked lips.
There was a knock at the door.
Mammon inhaled sharply, gasping against your skin as a familiar authoritative voice spoke from the hallway.
"We need to talk," Lucifer said.
Mammon was surprised, to say the least. Ordinarily he'd pick up on someone walking by. He was just so focused on his favorite human that he got a little carried away and lost track of his surroundings. You had a special hold over him that made the rest of the world melt away.
Lucifer's unexpected arrival made him jump. Mammon bit down on your bottom lip and crashed his forehead right into your face. His glasses fell off his head and clattered to the floor. You sputtered in pain as a trickle of blood came out your nose.
"Shit. Fu— Ghh, sorry. Hold on, I'm comin'!"
Mammon started swearing under his breath and looked around for a tissue. There should've been a box somewhere. You would have searched, too, if he wasn't still on top of you. You leaned your head back with a hand clasped over your nose.
Lucifer was not known for being an Avatar of Patience. "Mammon. Now." His voice was tinged with annoyance.
"I said hold on, damn it!" Mammon shouted with equal frustration.
He grabbed the edge of his shirt and hurriedly pressed it against your face with the delicate precision of a mobster smothering their enemy.
You choked on the scent of cologne and blood. Mammon finally got the hint to slide off of you and give you space to breathe during a coughing fit.
"I'll handle this myself," you told him, shooing him with your hand as he continued to fuss over you. The clock was ticking and Lucifer's grace was running out.
He growled, "Fine, but we're not finished yet," and hurried to the door, opening it just a crack.
"Whaddya want?" he asked Lucifer face-to-face. Mammon was visibly disheveled with messy hair, a flipped jacket collar, and blood on his shirt.
Lucifer raised an eyebrow. Mammon tried to keep the door from opening any further, but Lucifer easily pushed it several inches with his foot. You waved at him from the couch.
theartofmadeline
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