okteiviakom | Lucifer's Mansion, Very Late Friday Night

Entry tags:

Lucifer's Mansion, Very Late Friday Night

There'd been the club.

And then some texts with Duke.

And then Lucifer's house, and specifically Lucifer's bed, where Octavia was now catching her breath and brushing her hair out of her face with a slightly lazy and uncoordinated hand, flopped down on her back.

[ooc: For the Devil in question, and some slight residual NSFWness may occur.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

Lucifer sighed, and-- finally reached for her arm. That could be safe, no?

"I just wanted to see you," he said.

It was safe. At least Octavia didn't try to pull away from the touch.

Her voice was like gravel. "What did you see?"

That wasn't really what this was about.

"You murdering him repeatedly," Lucifer said, tilting his head. "He just couldn't work out how he didn't wind up the redeemed hero of that story, I believe."

Octavia's nod was a little shaky. "He saved my life," she rasped. "And he thought that made up for him taking Lincoln's."

Lucifer sat forward a little, running his hand gently up and down her arm.

"And didn't into account that the math of redemption isn't so..." He looked thoughtful. "Mercantile."

"Became something like him in the end, anyway," Octavia muttered. Shoved at her hair again, but it just flopped back down. "Did you know, when Duke -- found out..."

About everything.

About her.

"It was from Pike, too."

"He is like a bad penny, isn't he?" Lucifer asked, mouth quirking briefly.

Or he was a symbol of the time things had started irrevocably tilting the wrong way for Octavia.

"Mm."

She was looking down at her lap, now.

"Please come back here," Lucifer said softly, abandoning her arm to just... sneak his arm around her waist.

Octavia leaned into it, a little, after a moment. She was still going to make him pull her in the rest of the way, though.

Maybe she needed that.

Well, then she was in luck, because Lucifer gave her another moment to move herself - before pulling her into his arms, back down onto the mattress, with a sigh.

Octavia let him.

And immediately resumed all that burrowing she'd been doing earlier. Like she was trying to make herself feel small on purpose for once.

"I was hardly judging you, you know," Lucifer said softly, tugging the blankets up as best he could so she could cocoon properly.

Octavia draped one leg over him. Wrapping herself around him.

"'S not about that."

There was so much to genuinely judge her for, anyway.

"Then what?" Lucifer whispered into her hair.

"I don't want to talk about it."

No matter how tempting it was when he spoke to her like that. Her own murmur sounded soft, almost apologetic.

(It was about control, and her past, and her future.)