"Or we could put a pot of chocolate near you that'll melt with your heat, and the rest of the partygoers can have a nice fondue while we enjoy ourselves."

He grins, fully aware this doesn't heal the pain--that will take time--but happy to hear the laughter. There is no way they're doing an angel-sex fondue at his gallery, though; it would be hazardous to the building, not just the chocolate.

He leans in and dots little kisses all over Lucifer's cheeks. "Your photographer only has eyes for you, sweetheart. You're all I'll ever need."