And here Lucifer was, just trying to hang on until she'd finally offer him salvation - or leave him to his fate again.

He was still babbling, but nothing much came out that made much sense. Snatches of memory, mostly. Comments on how beautiful he imagined she was right now.

His fingers tangled in the sheets and clung on. Reduced, now, to soft gasps and small moans. (It wasn't the toy, was the thing. It was the thought of doing this for her.)