in the daylight

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/62526439.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: F/M
Fandoms: Lockwood & Co. - Jonathan Stroud, Lockwood & Co. (TV)
Relationship: Lucy Carlyle/Anthony Lockwood
Characters: Lucy Carlyle, Anthony Lockwood
Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Post-Book 05: The Empty Grave (Lockwood
& Co.), Fluff and Smut, Sex, First Time
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2025-01-26 Words: 1,962 Chapters: 1/1
 in the daylight
by paperbackwriter5

Summary

Lucy isn’t a morning person, but if there’s one way she doesn’t mind waking up, it’s like this:
ensconced in the coziness of Lockwood bed, his limbs entangled with her own, his voice
rumbling in her ear.

She pushes up so she can look at him. Bright, dark eyes, forelock falling over his brow,
familiar, worn pajamas with the buttons undone to mid chest. He’s so perfect like this, it
makes her heart ache to look at him. His hands cup her face, drawing her into a kiss she
enthusiastically reciprocates.

It doesn’t need to be said that they’ve never crossed this line before, or that there’s no going
back once they do.
Lucy isn’t a morning person, but if there’s one way she doesn’t mind waking up, it’s like this:
ensconced in the coziness of Lockwood bed, his limbs entangled with her own, his voice
rumbling in her ear.

“What time is it?” she mutters, yawning and nestling closer. The adrenaline from last night’s
case has long since faded, leaving her feeling satisfied.

His arms hold her tight, and his lips brush her forehead in a good morning kiss. “Early.”

“But there's no work today,” she reminds him, poking him in the stomach. While he’s gotten
better, on their rare days off, he still tends to meander down to the basement office at some
point.

He chuckles. “I know, I know. George is still on holiday anyway.”

She pushes up so she can look at him. Bright, dark eyes, forelock falling over his brow,
familiar, worn pajamas with the buttons undone to mid chest. He’s so perfect like this, it
makes her heart ache to look at him. His hands cup her face, drawing her into a kiss she
enthusiastically reciprocates.

That’s the other good thing about mornings like this: there’s usually snogging. But quickly,
the kissing takes a turn, progressing into increasingly familiar explorations of each other’s
bodies.

Lockwood’s pajama top vanishes almost immediately, but as usual, he pauses when his
fingers find the hem of her t-shirt. “Okay, Luce?” he murmurs, lips following the line of her
jaw.

“Please,” she says, wiggling to give him easier access.

His palms slide under her top and up her ribs. A choked noise escapes his mouth when he
discovers she’s not wearing anything underneath her pajamas. “Lucy,” he breathes. “You feel
—“

Her mouth crushes back against his, and their kissing grows deeper. He palms her breasts, the
scrape of his callused hands making her groan into his mouth. They separate only to pull her
shirt over her head. Now they’re pressed together, bare skin on bare skin, naked above the
waist.

She sighs as her nipples brush against him, relishing in the friction against his firm chest.
Lockwood’s fingers learn every bit of her torso, and his mouth soon follows. His explorations
ignite every nerve in her body, as he trails hot, open mouthed kisses over her breasts, letting
his tongue linger on her nipples.

Lucy can’t stop herself from rocking against him, her hips now framing his thighs. His hands
cup her arse, dragging her right where he wants her. Through her thin pajamas, she can feel
him hard beneath her. Operating on pure instinct, she continues her movements. He lets out a
low groan, swearing under his breath. He looks up to meet her eyes, his pupils blown out and
dark, his mouth still pressed to the valley between her breasts.

“Too many clothes?” she asks, her chest heaving. It isn’t really a question, and he doesn’t
bother to answer, just tips her out of his lap so they can both shuck off their pajama bottoms.

Lockwood’s on top of her in the next breath, his skin fever hot to the touch as he traces the
waistband of her pants. He swallows, and she watches his Adam’s Apple bob. It doesn’t need
to be said that they’ve never crossed this line before, or that there’s no going back once they
do.

Before her nerves get the best of her, Lucy preempts the question. Her hands shake slightly as
she tilts up her hips and peels off her pants, shoving them to the end of the bed. She’s been
annoyingly nervous about the prospect of him seeing her naked, but now that the moment is
here, she’s never been more certain she trusts him.

Lockwood whispers her name again, his voice hushed. His fingers trace reverently over the
curve of her waist, slowly trailing down the crease between her hip and thigh, moving closer.
When his fingers find her center, they both groan.

He explores her slowly, learning what makes her gasp and sigh as she mutters instructions.
Her inhibitions fade away when he carefully presses a finger into her. “Yes,” she chokes, her
hand gripping the sheets like a life raft.

Lockwood’s eyes are bright with a glint of satisfaction. He dips his head and meets her mouth
again, as he continues stroking her, giving her pressure where she needs it most.

She falls apart and comes back together under his hands. The world is spinning when she
returns to herself, but his expression of unabashed amazement is solid and steady.

“You're the best thing I’ve ever seen,” he whispers in her ear, his breath hot and damp as his
mouth trails down the column of her throat. Her heart feels full to bursting.

She reaches for him, going straight for the waistband of his pants. “Still too many clothes,”
she says, braver than she feels. He lets her tug the black boxers down, kicking them off once
they reach his ankles. He’s blushing now as she sneaks a look at him—all of him.

She reaches out, curious and inexperienced, but mostly certain she wants him to feel as good
as she does. “Can I—”

Lockwood nods a little frantically. As her fingers curl around him, he lets out a guttural
groan. While normally eloquent, Lucy quickly learns that this action reduces him to a
blubbering mess. Sweat beads his brow, as he swears under his breath, urging her on.

It’s not long before his hand is wrapping around hers, angling his cock so he spills against his
lower belly. He shudders against her hair, as the aftershocks pass through him.

There’s some mess to clean up then, but Lucy finds she doesn’t mind. Lockwood tosses her a
dazed smile as he passes her a damp flannel, and she feels the roots of a new kind of intimacy
settle deep in her bones.

A few moments later, they’re back in bed under the sheets again. They haven’t bothered with
pajamas, luxuriating in the new expanse of bare skin available to them. Lockwood presses
another kiss to the top of her head. “Love you, Luce.”

“Love you, too,” she murmurs, the words now as familiar as the feeling of his hand in hers.
Content and satisfied, she dozes off, sprawled against Lockwood’s chest, his fingers gently
combing through the knots in her hair and tracing the bumps of her spine.

When she wakes back up from her nap, Lockwood is already smiling at her. He angles his
head to kiss her softly. She slings a leg over him, pulling him closer, marveling again at the
feeling of his skin against her own. It’s only then that she realizes he’s hard again.

Lockwood screws up his face. “Ah, sorry about that. It just happens with you—especially
after earlier—”

She swallows his apology with another kiss. He moans softly as his fingers thread into her
hair, angling her neck so he can lick into her mouth. It’s languid and lazy, both of them still
relaxed from their earlier release.

The kissing grows headier. Her body is soft and pliable under his hands as they wander down
between her legs again. The hard outline of his erection is still pressing against her thigh, but
that’s not where she wants him.

She wants more; she wants all of him.

As an agent, Lucy has practice at making split second decisions. She makes one now, a
decision she’s known was inevitable since the afternoon Lockwood left the shimmering
sapphire necklace on her bed. If she’s honest, perhaps it’s been inevitable for years.

She pulls away slightly to meet his eyes. “Do you have anything for—?” She glances down
between them, her question obvious.

Lockwood nods, all business, but the pink tinge on his ears gives him away. “Didn’t want to
be presumptuous, but I thought it was best to be prepared. Not that we need to, ah, put them
to use any time soon,” he says hurriedly.

Lucy’s own face is probably an unattractive shade of blotchy red, but she pushes past the
mortification. Now of all moments, she’s not going to let embarrassment keep her from going
after what she wants. “It’s not presumptuous. Actually, I’m… glad,” she offers, attempting to
sound calm.

Lockwood swallows. His voice is rough when he speaks. “Good. I’m glad you feel the same
way.”

She gives up on words then and lets her actions speak for her, as she presses even closer. He
sucks in a sharp breath. “Lucy, what are—”
“I want this. I want this with you,” she whispers, letting kisses fall along his collarbone. She
forces out the words. “Preferably… now.”

A choked sounding noise erupts from Lockwood’s throat. His hands find her face, tilting it up
so he can meet her eyes. His own desire is obvious, as he searches her expression. Whatever
he finds there must satisfy him because he rests their foreheads together.

“Me too,” he murmurs, before kissing her sweetly, innocently. It’s such a strange contrast to
being naked in bed together for the first time with an unopened box of condoms waiting for
them that Lucy almost laughs.

There’s some fumbling then to find the package tucked away in the back of Lockwood’s
bedside table, followed by the ripping of a silver packet. There’s his body pressing her into
the mattress, his forearms holding his weight above her. And then, finally, there’s a foreign
pressure between her legs as the tip of him brushes against her.

He stops, every muscle in his body tense from holding back. “Keep going,” she urges. “Just
slowly.”

He eases down, painstakingly working himself into her. There’s a brief ache as she adjusts,
but soon it’s replaced by an unusual feeling of fullness.

“Okay?” he whispers, pausing again.

She nods, letting her body relax further. “Okay,” she says shakily, as he begins moving above
her, inside her. He rolls his hips, once, then twice. She gasps, a strange, punched out sound
leaving the back of her throat, as he slides even deeper.

“Luce,” Lockwood chokes. She crushes her mouth back to his. Her fingers clutch his
shoulders, desperately needing something to hold on to. Her back arches, as she moves her
body with his.

He presses a hand between them, touching her like she taught him. “Is this—”

“Good,” she manages. “So good.”

“You feel,” he pants, still moving. “God—Lucy—”

“I know,” she says blindly, every nerve ending in her body alight. “I know, I know.”

“I love you so fucking much.” He kisses the hollow of her throat. “Oh, Lucy—”

It’s too much in the best way. His voice, his body, his hands on her. Her release has been
building slowly, but now she tumbles over the edge, shaking underneath him. Lockwood
quickly follows, his face buried in the side of her throat, teeth grazing her neck.

Afterwards, he falls to the side, breathing heavily. Their eyes meet. She looks at him. He
gazes back at her. As the magnitude of the moment sinks in, Lucy thinks this might be the
happiest she’s ever been.
“Good day off?” he says finally.

She gives him her signature Carlyle grin. “The best.”

“You know,” he muses, reaching out to tuck a sweaty lock of hair behind her ear. “I think we
could potentially use more days off—at least if they’re going to be like this.”

She bites her lip, trying unsuccessfully to keep laughter from bubbling out of her. Just then,
her stomach growls, announcing that it’s been far too long since their middle of the night
post-case cocoa.

“Work up an appetite?” he quips, his grin growing wide and satisfied.

She hits him with his own pillow. “You’re going to be incorrigible now, aren’t you?”

“Just for you, Luce,” Lockwood says seriously. “Just for you.”
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