my_own_advocate | Lucifer's Mansion, Sunday Night

Octavia gave another whimper when that meant more rubbing pressure on her ass.

"It -- aches," she stuttered out.

"You deserve that," Lucifer murmured.

His fingers grew firmer. "The ache."

Octavia whimpered again, and tried to squirm away from -- the ache? The pleasure?

It really didn't matter, not when his arm was around her like it was. (And maybe that was the point. Maybe that was why.)

"You can't," Lucifer whispered. "There's nowhere for you to go. Nothing else for you to be."

His fingers slid down, pressed in. Two of them.

"Please --"

Where was she going with that? It got cut off and immediately forgotten, dissolving into a quiet moan - though she was still trying to writhe her way to freedom.

"You have a request?" Lucifer asked, lifting his chin.

Still holding on.

"Let me -- I don't --"

Clearly no requests that were actually fully formed.

"You have to speak up if you want something, darling," Lucifer sighed, sliding his fingers back up, then down.

Taking a surreptitious glance at her hands.

Her fingers were just curling and uncurling uselessly. Because this wasn't about that.

This was just her thrashing about because sometimes accepting pleasure was difficult, apparently.

That's why they had the signal. To know when it was about that, and when it wasn't.

"I thought so," Lucifer murmured, brushing his lips against her ear. "Just take it."

This time, when he touched her clit, his fingers moved fast, and rough, and intense.

Octavia cried out. Not very loud, but... louder than she'd been so far, her head tipping back further against his shoulder, body tensing further as she tried to get somewhere when there was nowhere to go.

Intense was right.

"Just give up," Lucifer hissed against her cheek, her ear.

He dipped his head and bit down on the tender skin of her neck, none too gently.

This noise was louder still.

And maybe a little... desperate.

Pain bloomed up her neck, down her shoulder. Everywhere all at once, and mixing in with everything else.

"There's only one way out of this," Lucifer said. Dragged his tongue along the bite while his fingers continued their work, not letting up. "Through."

Every movement of his fingers made Octavia want to try and break free from his grasp, but every movement of her body just reminded her of the bruises. Not that that seemed to stop her: just made her seem more helpless and distraught, as she writhed about, whimpering.

Overwhelmed.

His voice was in her ear, but so was the harsh sound of her breathing, and quiet-but-loud to her, also the wet sound of his fingers moving over her, against her, inside her. And something about that made her cheeks burn. Maybe because it was proof of how much she wanted all of this. No matter how humiliating.

Her hips tried to buck away from his lap. Or maybe just towards his hand.

"That's it," Lucifer cooed. "Your body knows."

He pressed the palm of his hand against her clit so his fingers had room, three of them, pushing into her. Pumping in and out with that same frenzied rhythm.

He wanted to see what would happen. Needed to.

Octavia fought it - and yet not really. Her hands clawed at the matress, not him.

Your body knows. It seemed to, yes, building up towards something no matter how much she tried to keep that from happening. Her body welcomed his efforts as much as she tried to find something to grab and drag herself out of his embrace with.

She no longer heard all the noise she was making.

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.

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