okteiviakom | The Samsara, Port of Fandom, Saturday Morning

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The Samsara, Port of Fandom, Saturday Morning

Last night had been okay. The margaritas had been tasty, and Octavia had acquiesced to Lucifer's request of not letting him go home alone by dragging him back to her boat with her at the end of the night. She'd passed out hard not too long after because, again, tasty margaritas.

Of course, now it was morning, and she was finally stirring again.

And the muffled little groan was almost immediate.

Goddamn margaritas.

[ooc: For the Devil, unless the neighbour wants to drop by too! ETA: NSFW downthread!]

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"Very much," Lucifer said, grinning at her, somewhere between sunny and filthy.

That was one of those expressions that seemed to be very particularly him, Octavia thought. "Good," she said, while the hand on his hip moved again, towards the center.

And wrapped around him.

This time, she did get a loud, appreciative sigh.

"I agree," he said, still watching her face.

Octavia's smirk was faint and very lopsided, but there.

She was watching him, too, as her touch grew firmer. As she stroked him the first few times, with nothing hesitant or particularly teasing about it.

Lucifer bit down on his lower lip. He'd been holding off on his problem downstairs for quite a while now; his skin felt sensitive, and her touch drew another, smaller sigh from him.

"Shut you up, hmm?" Octavia asked. She pressed a kiss over his hip bone, then straightened up some. Watching him and considering her options.

Didn't keep her hand from moving, of course.

"Seems like your keen warrior's eye might have found one of my weaknesses," Lucifer teased.

He reached out to brush some of her hair aside, mostly just as an excuse to let his fingertips graze her face.

"To be fair," Octavia rasped, turning her face into the touch, "it's a blindingly obvious one."

She made sure to brush her thumb up along the underside on her next stroke, all the way to the head. Then over it.

"Doesn't mean I don't appreciate it," Lucifer said, a smirk pulling on the edge of his mouth, not-quite-getting-there.

He blamed her thumb, personally. It was easy to get distracted by the minute details of what she was doing.

"I bet it doesn't," Octavia said. While she did the same again - just, firmer this time. "But I think you should keep talking."

"Any specific-- mm-- topic?" Lucifer said.

Teased, really. As long as he still had the sharpness of mind to do so.

"What's on your mind."

She figured they were past last night enough - and deep into this moment enough - for that to not drag up anything it wasn't supposed to.

But, still:

"Right now."

Lucifer let out a huff of amusement, and dropped his head back for a moment. Both to think, and to enjoy her hand with more focus.

"You are, obviously," he said. "You're always gorgeous, but I think I have a special love in my heart for tousled morning Octavia."

That was some word choice there, Lucifer. Not that Octavia paid it much mind. She moved again, that last bit more upright until she had the use of her other hand as well.

It rubbed some idle shapes against his inner thigh, though the movement was an upward one.

"Sounds like one of those things only you and Duke think."

Lucifer had filed everything back into the right cabinets of his denial and so he would never slip up and accidentally use a word carelessly. Obviously.

"Sounds like one of those things you refuse to believe," Lucifer sighed, "Even though it's true..."

"I believe that you both think that," Octavia said, with another firmer stroke that paid particular attention to the head. "And I like that you think that."

Her other hand slid up his thigh, for the couple of inches that were still left - before she could lightly cup his balls.

"That's enough."

Whether she believed it about herself was beside the point.

Lucifer moaned softly, stretching his arm out behind him for a moment, just because he needed to feel something in contrast.

"You are, though," he sighed. "A wonder... with very nice hands..."

"Mm-hm," Octavia hummed, as the touch of that second hand got a little firmer, too.

Because with a reaction like that, how could she not?

Lucifer blew out a long, pleased breath.

"Which is most of what I'm thinking about right now," he said, tilting his head forward and opening the eyes he hadn't realized he'd closed. "Mm. Still pretty."

Octavia did her little half-smile thing. Faint, but still.

"And yet you're not the one in bed with an actual angel."

She let her gaze drop to her hands. Allowed for more precision, like twisting her wrist just so on the next stroke.

"Trust me, not all angels are as pretty--"

He gasped, his hips doing a little roll up into her hands.

"--as I am. By far."

Octavia's smirk was a fraction wider only because it was half hidden. Right, so that worked.

Time to do it again, only a little quicker. Once, no - twice.

"But you're very pretty."

"Thank you," Lucifer said, a flush crawling up his skin and onto his cheeks.

Not over the compliment. But what she was doing was definitely working.

Good. Octavia had set on a brisker pace now, as she glanced up his body, seeing that flush.

And then down again. "You're also pretty stiff."

That was its own kind of pretty, really.

Lucifer smirked. "Well," he said, "I believe I have you to thank for that."

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