OOM: A Date With the Devil (Literally)

[thesupersmeller]

He's pretty sure it's a really, really bad idea. No less, Burton Guster has put on his favorite purple silk shirt and black slacks, oiled his head with the perfect mixture of lavender and cocoa butter, and made it to the restaurant twenty minutes early.

Nervous (as always) and almost hoping that she'll stand him up, he takes a seat at a table in the back with a freshly lit candle and orders a bottle of Corvina with two glasses.

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[7twistedwishes]

The Devil stretches, smiling, and will gracefully slip out of bed... picking up Gus' shirt on the way to the bathroom, making it a little show for him, the way she moves with no clothes on the way.

A wink, and she ducks out of sight.

[thesupersmeller]

With a loud sigh, Gus rolls onto his back and stares up at the ceiling. His mind is blank for a long moment, and then it all hits at once.

This was a bad idea, Gus...

Despite the fact that it's been pretty amazing, his gut tells him no good can come from it. Not that it's stopping the dull throb telling him to call Shawn and say he's sick just to spend a little bit more time with her.

Which really, isn't like him at all.

"So, uh... will I see you again?" He asks, eyes fixed on the door.

[7twistedwishes]

She peeks out, smiling. "Do you want to?" Then, Lucifer ducks out of sight again, and water is heard running...

[thesupersmeller]

That... is a horribly unfair question. Against his better judgement, against logic and every single movie ever made...

"Uh-huh..." he groans loudly, the drumming of his shower and mental image of the water beading on her creamy skin having far too profound of an effect on his desire to get out of leaving the apartment.

[7twistedwishes]

She will take a few minutes to return... hair damp, wearing Gus' shift. "Do you?" She asks again, sitting by him on the bed.

"I mean, I'd completely understand if you'd prefer not." It would of course hurt a bit, but can she blame him, if he decides dating a Demon (The Devil) is a bit too much.

[thesupersmeller]

His shirt clings to her, the silk almost too good looking as he tries to look at anything but the open buttons against her chest.

Not. Fair. Body.

"It's..." he lowers his eyes and swallows hard; "It's not that I don't want to... I mean, I really don't want to be hasty about this."

[7twistedwishes]

"Oh dear..." She laughs softly, leaning down to kiss Gus with minty-fresh breath. "I'm not asking you to marry me..."

Now, that would be a strange idea. "Just, when we bump at the Bar, say hi... sit by, have a drink, and some talk. I'm a good listener."

[thesupersmeller]

The kiss warms him, but he sheepishly hangs his head at her words; "I know that... I mean, it's just... you know..."

He's flailing, scrambling to sound like anything but a misguided naive guy that wants to think sleeping with someone means romance... which is pretty tough for him.

"I'd like to bump into you again."

And again... and again...

[7twistedwishes]

"I'd like that too." Oh, she would very much. "So... dinner leftovers for breakfast, and maybe a quickie before you have to go work?"

Why yes, she is undoing another button, while casually teasing him so much.

Congratulations, Gus: The Devil really likes you.

Fear.

[thesupersmeller]

His body warms with another embarrassed flush at her easy acceptance - apparently he's got a way with supernatural women (which *clearly* has nothing to do with being to smell the innocence on him) that scares the crap out of him.

Gus nods dumbly at the offer, eyes drawn to the easy move of lithe fingers, Oh God.

"I have to text Shawn and let him know I'll be running a little late."

[7twistedwishes]

She grins and nods. "You do that. I'll heat up the food." She does not need to eat, but Gus surely must be hungry after all the energy they spent last night.

At least he'll have an insufferable grin of cat that ate the canary all day? Life's good, with a bit of sin.

[thesupersmeller]

There's a lot to be said for lust and breasts pasta. And good company. And fumbling with his phone as he tries to swipe out a text message that sounds like anything other than 'I just had sex with THE DEVIL' because Shawn probably won't take that well.

He slides into a clean pair of boxers and follows her to his small kitchen, settling on a sweet but simple;

I'm running late - be there in an hour... maybe two.