Lucifer Morningstar (
my_own_advocate) wrote2022-01-23 04:36 pm
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Lucifer's Mansion, Sunday Night
Not sleeping with Octavia for two days had seemed like a tolerable proposition after the initial suggestion of five entire days (oh lord). In practice, though, it was its own form of Hell.
So there had definitely been a bit of fumbling with the keys (and the take-out). And a bit of... rushing through the food part.
"We certainly ordered too much rice," he said, only halfway through his pad thai (sigh). "Who knew such a thing was possible."
[[ for her, and doomed to go nsfw ]]
So there had definitely been a bit of fumbling with the keys (and the take-out). And a bit of... rushing through the food part.
"We certainly ordered too much rice," he said, only halfway through his pad thai (sigh). "Who knew such a thing was possible."
[[ for her, and doomed to go nsfw ]]
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While slowly bringing his hands down to where she could press his wrists against the mattress, above his head.
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That was all the warning he was going to get, before Octavia shifted that last little bit, and that convenient spot of missing mesh between her legs was right above his mouth.
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It was pretty clear right from the get-go, from the very first grinding movement, that Octavia intended to use him. And wasn't about to be gentle about it.
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Well, he wanted to take his hands out of her grasp and grip her, give her his mouth, but she didn't want to let him. He made a soft noise in the back of his throat, and just tried to press into what she was asking, drawing his tongue between her folds when she pressed into him.
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And Octavia was submitting to hers. The rougher ones that didn't care what he wanted, needed, or felt. The ones that allowed her to just take.
Or to drawl, "Stick your tongue out further," as she leaned a little more of her weight onto the hands pressing his wrists to the mattress.
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But he shouldn't be thinking that way right now.
(It always took Lucifer's mind a while longer to submit than his body. She knew that.)
He obliged, his tongue curling a bit as he pressed it further against her. His body strained, just a touch, against her grip. It felt nice. Firm.
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(It wasn't like she always fully submitted, either.)
Either way, her moan sounded like approval when she dragged her core over his tongue.
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But they stayed.
As did he, powerless to do much but enjoy the taste of her on his tongue, humming somewhere low in his stomach.
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Because Octavia was really getting into it, now. There was something feverish about the way she moved, careless, relentless, her sole concern her own pleasure, every last bit of it that she could wring out of this. His tongue, lips, mouth, face.
The sensation of being fully clothed from her wrists to her ankles except where it mattered was definitely working for her.
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Hard not to start aching while she was riding his face like a mad woman.
(He wanted to touch her so badly. How those muscles would move underneath all that mesh, the firmness of her thighs...)
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She really wasn't looking for a slow build-up here, no. More like she was trying to set some kind of record for how quickly she could get herself off this way. No finesse, just want.
And her moans, unrestrained and a little guttural, said she was getting there.
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Trying to be good.
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There was already a tremble in her thighs. Too bad he wasn't allowed to get a better feel of that.
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He knew it would come sooner or later - she would come sooner, rather than later. But... no input but her noises, the rapid movements of her body. Demanding, claiming.
His hips rocked up into the air.
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Because it turned out it really was sooner.
Turned out it was right now that she tensed with a ragged curse (in Trig, in English, she wouldn't have known), gripping his wrists tighter, managing that one last rough roll of her hips against him before she just shook.
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(Doing this with someone who could actually hurt him continued to be fascinating and exciting.)
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She needed one of her hands for brushing hair back from her face.
"Good... start."
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"That was... yes," he panted. "That."
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"But just a start."
That sounded idle, distracted.
(Being someone who could hurt him was... It was many things.)
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But mostly his hands, like she couldn't help herself. She brushed her hair back a second time, even though she didn't really need to. Maybe it just went with the way she was catching her breath.
Or how the straps of leather around her arm felt when she moved it.
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Lucifer's fingers moved a bit more deliberately now, working the ache out of the skin with firm touches.
His eyes were on her.
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That sounded less distracted, but still kind of idle.
At least on the surface.
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