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You pushed yourself against a cold brick wall, letting yourself drop downward into a sitting position as you reached into your pocket. You pulled out one of your cancer sticks, as your mother had called them you would swear a millenia ago, and in your other hand you already had a lighter ready for yourself. Closing your eyes, you placed the cigarette filter lightly into your mouth, and rose your lighter up with your other hand. With a flick and an inhale, your cigarette was lit, and you tasted the tobacco slide from your mouth to your throat, breathing it down to your lungs. As you smoked, you kept your eyes shut, until you felt someone beside you. This was odd, of course, because you knew no one in this little city, and the thought of someone near you immediately set you into an uneasy state.
Glancing to your side, you noticed a man a tad older than yourself with sandy blonde hair and the bluest eyes that you had seen. He had a soft look on his face, despite his disheveled exterior, and there was something about him that stopped you from yelling rape and running to the high hills. The man gave you a smile as you took another drag of your cigarette.
“You know smoking kills you, right?” he joked to you, though there was a tad bit of seriousness behind his friendly nature.
The comment made you crack a smile, though, and you rolled your eyes. “Isn’t that the point?” you whispered with a soft smile and a little bit of sarcasm laced in each word you spoke. “Would you like one, handsome?” A light smirk crossed your face, but he shook his head, as you assumed he would have.
“Satan doesn't smoke, contrary to popular belief,” he said with a light chuckle, catching you a bit off guard. You weren't exactly scared, but instead thought the man either thought way too highly of himself, or way too lowly. “Though, your second hand doesn't quite bother me.” He gave a light smirk in return, and slid a tad bit closer to you. Through this conversation, you had smoked the majority of your cigarette, and took the last drag before stamping it out on the left side of yourself, since he was close, almost against, your right. The way he smirked made you want more - to even touch him. There was something about him that made your stomach turn into butterflies, and your heart race.
If it was possible to speed your heart even faster, he managed to do this as he leaned in and whispered in your ear, “I can hear your thoughts pretty loud, Sweetheart. You're thinking of me.” The smirk on his lips by this point was full fledged and full of a little evil, and a little teasing.
As if to test what he had said, you thought to yourself, ‘If you really can hear my thoughts, how about you kiss me?’ A smile spread across your face, in early triumph, as he didn't move an inch.
You seemed to have celebrated a little bit too early, you noticed, as the stranger leaned in and roughly pressed his soft lips against your own. He tasted of something you couldn't quite place, but thoroughly enjoyed each second. The man didn't ask for permission with his tongue as he just snaked it directly into your mouth, finding your tongue and dominating it. You reached your arms over and wrapped them around his neck, one hand playing with his short sandy hair. As you did that, you felt him snake his arms around you, pulling you onto his lap as you kissed.
After what seemed like forever, you two separated for breath, and your eyes met his deep blue orbs. “Apparently you can read minds,” you chuckled lightly, smiling at him.
He smirked in return, without a flicker of his eyes as he stated, “Because I am Lucifer himself, Sweetheart.”
“If that's the case...” you started, unafraid for whatever strange reason. You felt as if you should be, but there was something about him that made you feel calm, and even drawn to him. “...then I would be honored if you would let me take you out for a bite and let me get to know you better, handsome.”
He noticed your lack of fear, and though it was surprising, he didn't address it. Instead, he assessed the situation and realized that he could definitely go for a bite to eat. Nodding his head reluctantly, he said, “It's a date.”