Sunday pushed open the front door of Lucifer's house, her steps light and excited as she practically skipped into the living room. She'd just wrapped up her last class of the semester, and the thrill of freedom for the summer break had her glowing. The smell of faint cologne mixed with the warm, masculine scent of his home greeted her like a familiar hug.

"Lucifer!" she called out, her voice carrying through the space as she kicked off her sneakers and padded across the hardwood floor.

"Yeah, midget?" His deep baritone drifted from the living room, followed by the faint sound of video game commentary.

Sunday rounded the corner to find him sprawled on the couch, a controller in his hands and his focus glued to the flat-screen TV. The sight was casual but striking-his locs freshly twisted and pulled back, a gray hoodie that hugged his broad shoulders, and black joggers that showed off his muscular legs. He was in his element, playing FC24 like his life depended on it.

"I got my nails done," she announced, holding up her hands with a wide grin.

Lucifer immediately paused the game, setting the controller down on the couch beside him. "Aight, lemme see."

He stood up, towering over her as his eyes flicked to her hands, but then they dropped, and he froze. His gaze traveled down her petite frame, landing on her outfit-a cropped white top and a mini skirt that barely reached mid-thigh. The soft fabric hugged her hips and revealed just enough of her toned legs to send his imagination into overdrive.

Sunday twirled her fingers in front of his face, wiggling them for emphasis. "Hello? My nails, Z."

But Lucifer's brain had short-circuited. He dragged his hand down his face, his jaw tightening as he tried not to stare too long at her exposed skin. "Girl, what the hell you got on?"

Sunday smirked, tilting her head. "What? It's hot outside. You don't like it?"

Lucifer cleared his throat, finally tearing his eyes away and focusing on her nails instead. "I ain't say that. Just... Damn."

She laughed softly, stepping closer and holding her hands out. Her nails were painted a pale pink with intricate white floral designs, each one delicate and flawless. "Aren't they pretty?"

He gently took her hands in his, his thumb brushing over her fingers as he studied the details. "Yeah, they real nice, princess," he murmured, his voice softer now. "They suit you."

Sunday beamed at the compliment, but she didn't miss the way his grip lingered or how his eyes kept darting back to her outfit.

Lucifer let go of her hands and stepped back, trying to compose himself. The truth was, Sunday always looked good to him, but today she was testing every ounce of his self-control. The mini skirt wasn't just cute-it was lethal. The way it moved when she walked, the hint of thigh it showed, the way it teased his imagination-it was driving him crazy.

"Why you tryna give me a heart attack today?" he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

Sunday crossed her arms, leaning against the armrest of the couch. "I'm not trying to do anything. You're just dramatic."

Lucifer snorted, shaking his head. "Dramatic, huh? Aight." He picked up the controller and sank back onto the couch, determined to distract himself.

But Sunday wasn't done with him. She plopped down beside him, tucking her legs under her and leaning into his side. "What're you playing?"

"FC24."

"Are you winning?"

"Always."

She watched him play for a few minutes, her head resting against his shoulder. The soft clicking of buttons filled the air as he focused on the game, but Sunday could feel the tension in his body. His muscles were tight, his breathing a little heavier than usual.

"Z?" she asked, her voice soft.

"Yeah, mama?"

"Why are you so stiff?"

Lucifer paused the game again, setting the controller down and turning to face her. His dark brown eyes locked onto hers, the intensity in his gaze making her breath hitch. "You really wanna know?"

She nodded, her heart pounding.

"'Cause I'm tryna be a gentleman," he admitted, his voice low and rough. "But you makin' it real hard dressed like that."

Sunday blinked, heat rushing to her cheeks. "Oh."

He leaned closer, his hand resting on the back of the couch beside her. "Yeah, 'oh.' You know I'm tryna wait for you, right? Wanna do this right."

Her lips parted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I know, Z. And I appreciate that."

Lucifer exhaled, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "Good. But you gotta stop teasin' me, princess. You walk in here lookin' like that, talkin' about nails, and I'm over here tryna focus. You makin' it impossible."

Sunday bit her lip, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "I wasn't trying to tease you. I just wanted to show you my nails."

"Well, mission failed," he said with a dry chuckle, his hand dropping from the couch to rest on her knee.

They sat like that for a moment, the tension between them palpable but unspoken. Sunday placed her hand over his, her fingers lightly tracing the veins on the back of his hand.

"I'm not trying to make things hard for you, Z," she said softly.

"I know," he replied, his voice gentle. "It ain't your fault you fine as hell."

She laughed, leaning her head against his shoulder. "You're ridiculous."

"And you love it," he shot back, his tone teasing.

"I do," she admitted, her voice barely audible.

Lucifer tilted her chin up, his eyes searching hers. "You know I love you, right?"

Sunday's breath caught, her chest tightening as his words sank in. She nodded, her eyes glistening. "I know. And I love you too."

His lips curved into a small smile, his thumb brushing against her cheek. "Then we good."

She smiled back, her heart swelling with emotion. "Yeah, we're good."

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of laughter and quiet moments. Sunday stayed curled up beside Lucifer as he finished his game, occasionally teasing him about his skills or lack thereof. When the game ended, they moved to the kitchen, where he made them a late dinner-steak and mashed potatoes with a side of roasted vegetables.

As they ate, Sunday couldn't help but steal glances at him. Lucifer wasn't just her boyfriend-he was her safe space, her anchor. And even though he drove her crazy sometimes with his teasing and his stubbornness, she wouldn't trade him for anything.

Later, as they lay in bed, Sunday rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

"Hey, Z?"

"Yeah, love?"

"Thanks for being patient with me."

He kissed the top of her head, his arm tightening around her. "Ain't nothin' to thank me for. You worth it, princess. Always."