my_own_advocate | Lucifer's Mansion, Sunday Night

But Lucifer did. It was beautiful. He couldn't remember the last time he'd ever heard her sound quite like this, so raw and desperate and running over with-- it.

Whatever it was. Even he wasn't sure.

He kissed the mark on her neck and slid up and bit down and left another one and listened to the wet noises she made around his fingers. (Let himself miss it, just for a moment, the feeling of her wet and writhing around him...)

Octavia's eyes were tearing up again.

She didn't notice.

She could tell an edge was fast approaching, and didn't think she deserved it, and may well have said so in some fractured way - or maybe none of her noises were words at all. And all her writhing seemed to do was either rub her bruises or push her more onto his fingers.

They were starting to feel like the same thing.

Lucifer sucked in a sharp breath against her skin. He heard her, even within all those-- scraps of words.

"It's not up to you to say what you deserve," he said. Kissed her jaw, her cheek.

And his free hand found her arse, cupped one cheek, and gave it a firm squeeze.

Octavia gave a wounded gasp.

The writhing was becoming just... tension. Acceptance? Defeat.

"Better," Lucifer whispered.

And what she got for her obedience was an open-mouthed bite on her neck that turned into a sucking kiss. He ground his palm against her, as harsh as the rest of him. Stretched her, pressed a fourth finger into her.

Just in case she wasn't overwhelmed enough already?

The ragged moan that ensued seemed to suggest she was now. And yet her hips -- rocked against his hand. As if of their own volition.

He wanted her swallowed by it all. (Out of her own head.) He was willing to do anything it took.

Though... slowly... Lucifer's own input fell away oh so slightly, making space for her own motions. Her own rhythm.

"That's it," he murmured. "Chase it."

Her skin burned. Not even just her face or her ass, anymore, but seemingly all over. She made another desperate noise.

But her hips kept moving. Frantic, a little haphazard, needy.

Lucifer finally allowed himself to look down, at where his hand slipped under the waistband of her trousers. At her hips, moving so frantically, and her hands on the mattress. She was nothing but a desperate ball of need, and it was beautiful and profane and utterly debauched--

He really missed being inside of her.

He gasped softly. It felt as if the tables had abruptly turned, and now all he could do was match her frantic motions with his hand, pushing her along. Giving her what she wanted.

(That was all he ever wanted.)

Octavia's breathing was heavy and loud and littered with gasps and moans as she just kept moving, and chasing, and - truth be told - trying to fuck herself with his hand.

And then just like that, her breath caught in her throat, and the movements stuttered --

She cried out loud as she came, a desperate wail as her body tensed.

“There,” Lucifer breathed, eyes wide. “There.”

Incredible.

Octavia sagged slowly. Her breath was still too quick, too heavy, too -- whatever it was that shook her shoulders?

Oh.

Oh no.

That was a sob.

Oh.

Lucifer slid his hand out of her trousers. He wrapped that arm around her, too.

Hugged her.

Octavia tried to hold it back.

It worked just about as well as her attempts at holding other things back, just now. Which was to say, it did not. Just made the next sob louder when it broke through.

Just meant it shook her more when she just let go, and just... began to cry.

"Oh, love," Lucifer whispered. "I'm sorry."

He didn't know what for, but he meant it.

Octavia made a noise. (In response? Or just coincidentally.) It sounded like a wail.

Her hands finally came up from the mattress, to cover her face.

Lucifer sighed, and pressed a kiss against the back of her neck, and then his forehead.

Just. Quietly. Being here.

It was another thing her body decided to do with no regard for what Octavia wanted. Just... aggressive sobbing, with tears streaming down her face, completely uncontrollable, making her struggle to even breathe.

Inconsolable, because there wasn't any one reason.

(No actual reason at all?)

It was going to be a while.

"Come on, darling, turn around," Lucifer whispered.

It was a big ask.

Octavia managed it in a very fumbling, uncoordinated way. Gasping for breath the whole way through.

It was okay. She was close now. And that meant Lucifer could hug her better, wrapping his arms around her the tightest he could. "Thank you," he mumbled.

Hope he liked tears on his shirt! Because that was what he was getting. Among... other things. It was a messy sort of crying that she was doing.

And it just kept going as she pressed against him, curled up in a way that did not seem comfortable but that she did not seem to care about.

He didn't mind. He could have the shirt washed. Octavia-- Octavia needed him right now.

Lucifer thought. He was pretty sure.

"It's all right," he mumbled. "It's all right."

It would have been worse without him there.

Not that he could probably tell from the outside, but maybe he'd hear about it later? Once she'd exhausted herself.

Which... did not seem close, yet.

At least no one was stuck with blue balls in this scenario, Lucifer thought vaguely, and then felt guilty about it.

But it looked like that, for now, he could do nothing but make soothing noises while she worked through... whatever this was.

Had he done something wrong?

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