Lucifer Morningstar (
my_own_advocate) wrote2022-07-17 07:09 pm
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Lucifer's Mansion, Sunday Night
There were plans to open the club - finally - and plans to go to Austria for a few days to see an opera - exciting - and Octavia had been doing better recently, so... Lucifer was in a good mood, actually, when Sunday came around.
So yes, the candles were out again tonight. And a rather imposing spread of seafood, picked up from the mainland. With mango rice, of course.
It was Octavia. Couldn't do without the mango rice.
"How do you feel about the snapper?"
[[ for her ]]
So yes, the candles were out again tonight. And a rather imposing spread of seafood, picked up from the mainland. With mango rice, of course.
It was Octavia. Couldn't do without the mango rice.
"How do you feel about the snapper?"
[[ for her ]]
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Another curse slipped out before she managed the forceful "Six."
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"Seven. Eight. Nine."
Sensations blended into one.
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The only difference was that he pulled away his hand afterward.
That the sound of his zipper was audible.
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And then -- his hand was gone. And both sides of her ass ached, and there was that sound.
She forgot to breathe.
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Wishing for thinner layers of fabric -- no, thicker -- no, none at all...
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Want/dread.
Want/dread --
Was Octavia supposed to be able to answer that? Because Octavia did not seem to be able to answer that, even after swallowing, even after parting her lips as if words were about to come out.
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He sat back. Just a bit.
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Because she would have preferred to keep hiding her face.
But she turned the entire way around, still on all fours. Still with her eyes cast down towards the mattress.
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The flat authority belied how much he was trying to gauge her mental state right now. How far to go.
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It probably didn't clear up much. She had that slightly wide-eyed look about her, something uncertain and small about her expression.
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"Let me see your mouth," he said.
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Her mouth opened, wide.
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Now that she'd looked up at him, her wide eyes were staying on his face. Trying to get a read on what to expect.
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Replaced, soon enough, by three fingers. Just as she'd had them, not too long ago, sliding into her mouth.
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But her lips closed around his fingers. Her tongue dragged against them.
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Voice growing lower still.
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Perhaps not with quite such wild abandon as last time, at least not right from the get-go. But still in pulses, swirling her tongue as she could, like she meant it.
Looking up at him.
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Then he leaned forward. His cock brushed briefly past her cheek, but-- that wasn't the point.
It was his free hand, sliding into her trousers.
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