okteiviakom | The Samsara, Port of Fandom, Saturday Morning

It was an oddly tender thing. Except maybe it wasn't all that odd, all things considered. Apart from her headache and the rest of her hangover, this had been a gentle morning so far.

But still. This felt new.

There was another sigh, but it held no words.

People had been changing Lucifer since his original retirement. He'd sometimes blamed the Detective's influence, but this week, the notion he was still changing was bubbling up more and more often...

His fingers drifted up, after some immeasurable span of time, brushing along her folds. Pushing gently inwards, curving.

Octavia's own hands were still on her hips, grasping at nothing.

They just curled into her palms in time with her little moan, at the feel of his fingers.

Good.

Lucifer's eyes had long since closed, and whatever smattering of focus he might have had on anything else had dispersed.

No tricks, this time, or fancy moves, or roleplay. He kept his mouth on her, playing her with his fingers, growing firmer with every other motion. Lost himself in her scent, the taste of her on his lips.

Octavia wanted to be right there with him, but there was just... one small thing. It'd seemed good at first, as it often was, but after a moment Octavia found it pulling at her focus instead of pushing her further into the moment.

She swallowed. "No hands."

It was too -- much? Too firm. Too something, for right now.

Lucifer turned his head and pressed a kiss against her thigh, sliding his fingers out of her. "As you wish," he murmured.

And slid his mouth over her again.

"Better," Octavia murmured, with a tone that sounded like a thank you.

One of her hands finally slid further down, over her hip and to her thigh. Looking for one of his.

She found one, and he slid his fingers between hers.

He pressed in closer, running his tongue over her in longer, lingering strokes.

Oh, that was so much better. Octavia seemed to melt into it, letting her head tilt back again (not that he would know that), breathing in deeper and slower.

Just letting it wash over her, while her hand held his.

Lucifer held hers tight, and stuck to his promise; his other hand laid on her hip, not moving.

He was just... glad to have found something that worked for her. Felt a pang in his chest that was entirely inappropriate to the act they were in right now, and yet... strangely wasn't.

It worked for her.

Octavia's breathing was slowly growing heavier. More noisy, as she let herself drift further into just feeling his tongue work against her. As thoughts flitted past freely in her mind, about her taste in his mouth, her scent in his nose.

Her free hand gave a little twitch where it had ended up staying, on her hip. It nudged his as it did.

Lucifer nudged her back, or... slid one of his fingers under one of hers. Maybe both.

He broke his rhythm for a moment to suck on her gently, give her a little something else to move against. His hips were pressed against the mattress, but whatever was going on below the metaphorical belt could wait; all he could think about, in terms of the future, was the moment she might come undone against him.

Octavia's hand slid further, almost on instinct alone. A few more of her fingers just barely on top of his.

This was the slow route to her coming undone, at least compared to what he could've done with his fingers if she'd let him. But the sucking had her shifting underneath him a little, making a small whining noise in her throat.

Slow didn't mean it would take forever.

He didn't mind the slow route.

She was more than worth the amount of time and care it took.

Lucifer took that whining noise in greedily, redoubling his efforts, much firmer now against her. Chasing another whine, another noise.

With that kind of determination, it didn't take much. And it wasn't just a whine that he got, either:

"Lucifer...!"

Her hips were trying to tilt further into it, again.

The hand that only barely brushed hers slid away-- and under her hips, pushing them up against Lucifer's mouth. His arm stayed there as a solid support.

He was noisier too, on his end, making little wet sounds with every movement.

They were faintly muffled by the covers on top of him, but that just seemed to make them all the more enticing.

There was a little gasp, when he helped Octavia's hips actually tilt. And then some softly hissed Trig when she felt the difference. It wasn't a big shift at all, and yet it was.

Her mouth hung open, all the better for all her little noises to slip out.

For the first time, Lucifer's hips shifted, a little restless, against the bed. It was hard for them not to, when she sounded like that.

He hummed something in the back of his throat, wasn't even sure what, and dragged his tongue all the way down for the first time in a while, hungry to taste more of her.

Didn't indulge himself for more than that, though. This was about her, and the way she seemed to sigh and gasp every time he lapped at her just-- so.

And Octavia did so this time as well, her little gasp bleeding into another little whine.

And then words. "Keep going." Under other circumstances, it could've been an order. Didn't quite reach pleading, either. Just, request. Instruction. Something.

Her fingers had slowly tightened their hold on his. The rest of her seemed to be gathering tension too, now.

Lucifer would have told her he wouldn't dream of stopping, but... well. The best he had was a huff, a warm breath of air that blew over her wet skin before he sucked it back into his mouth.

Every noise she made felt like a reward. So did the tension of her muscles under his fingertips.

He didn't stop. He kept going.

The huff was all Octavia needed, anyway. And then his mouth was fully on her again, and that was all she needed.

He got more of his rewards in the moments that followed. Almost every lick, every move on his part was met with a little noise. Little gasps and whimpers, at first.

Then moans, low and ragged and growing louder.

She didn't say she was close: everything said it for her, from the faint tremble starting in her thighs, to the way she panted her breath. To the flutters under his tongue, like false starts.

He couldn't even see her and he knew she was beautiful. Lucifer let out a soft moan against her, unable to keep it in, wanting that tremble, the flutter--

The hand holding up her hips dug its fingers into her skin, because he couldn't help himself. He pressed his tongue against her, a firm presence at her entrance, and dragged it all the way up, sucked her into his mouth, laved its attention on her again.

Fuck. He needed to feel this.

This was the slow route.

And so, even the final arrival to the destination seemed slower than most. There was no surprise about it, no sudden drop: Octavia could feel herself tighten, felt the first few sharper flickers of something warm, could feel herself giving into it --

And then the rest spilled over.

She wasn't loud, although there was definitely a moan. But she sounded satisfied.

Loud wasn't that important, in the end.

Lucifer didn't pull away. Not quite yet. But the drags of his tongue slowed, went gentle, as if trying to soothe her through it.

He pulled his arm back, lowering her back onto the mattress, and drew pointless circles on her thigh.

Judging by Octavia's little whimpers, there was no soothing her.

But even those started dying down after a moment, and her breathing began evening out as she went more lax underneath him.

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