okteiviakom | Lucifer's Mansion, Saturday Night

"Good."

She wanted it to be, for all that she feigned just being in this for herself.

But all gentleness had definitely left this situation a moment ago. Octavia seemed more than willing to actually work herself up into a sweat, rocking him forward again.

And again.

It wasn't all that much different from when she wore her harness. Her attitude seemed just slightly so, though. Something about the confidence of each thrust, and...

He'd figure it out sometime when she wasn't fucking him. When every stroke didn't send pleasure burning through his belly, and he could feel the skin of her hips brush against his. "Fuck me, yes," he managed, "Take what you want..."

Octavia really wished she could have had a picture of this, for Duke or just for herself: the way he was bent over in front of her, the strain in his shoulders. But that would've meant taking at least one hand completely off him and fumbling for her phone, and that just... wasn't happening.

She didn't even hear the noises she made, her breath littered with grunts and moans. All that seemed to register were whatever noises he made, or their bodies together.

All of this was intoxicating.

"You're mine."

"I am," Lucifer babbled. "I am..."

He remembered faintly about the phone, scrambling to grab it again. The motion unbalanced him, and he sagged forward further, his face pressed against the mattress.

"Octavia," he sighed, and reached down, finally, to take himself in hand.

Maybe they needed a timelapse set-up or something. Because Octavia wasn't really managing to think about taking pictures, either. Not when it would have involved letting go of him while he was so perfectly bent over for her.

"Oh, good Devil," she panted. "That's right, just let me -- take you."

And taking him she was. The grip on his hips was actually starting to try and rock him just slightly backwards into every thrust, too.

The thought of taking pictures was still somewhere in Lucifer's mind, but it was hard to focus. So hard.

He worked himself feverishly for a few of those thrusts, deeply enjoying the feeling of Octavia pulling him onto her dick.

Then he remembered.

He pulled his hand away, groaning loudly in both frustration and the sheer-- fuck, that thrust went right up to his balls. He fumbled for the phone, holding it up haphazardly, hoping it was pointed in the right direction - at Octavia - when he pressed the button.

It was good enough, or at least Octavia thought so. She would have said if she hadn't.

But the sight of his fumbling sparked something.

So she pulled him into another rough thrust, then stayed there, buried to the hilt. "Oh, no," she said. (Breathed, panted. The strain was getting to her, and it was amazing.) "Do it properly, this time."

Had she just stopped? Lucifer whimpered, slumping forward a little.

Suddenly he could hear how harshly he was breathing. "Yes," he managed, forcing his head back up. Forcing himself to focus on the phone in his hands.

He held it up again, staring blindly at the screen. Tried to frame her, and his own gorgeous behind, and what she had buried in there...

Click.

Yes, she'd stopped, and it had been more than worth it just to see him struggle, just to take in the effect she'd had on him. Was having on him.

Octavia didn't say anything - but as soon as he'd taken the picture, her hips pulled back again. And thrust back in. No adjustment period, just right back to that harsh rhythm she'd had before he'd reminded them about the pictures.

It ripped a loud moan from her. Definitely chasing something, now.

"Oh fuck," Lucifer groaned, his thumb fumbling for the button to make one last picture before the phone wound up on the bed. He had done his best, Duke would just have to...

Something.

He planted his arms back on the bed, and dropped his head between them as he rocked back to meet her thrust this time.

After a moment, his fingers snuck back around his cock.

"You know I could forbid you from doing that," Octavia told him, breathless.

Wasn't intending to. But it felt good to say, while her hips were relentlessly snapping against him. Felt right.

"I know," Lucifer breathed.

Had half-expected it.

Was still expecting it.

But it was hard to worry about that when his entire body was telling him to smush his face into the mattress to smother the deeply filthy, repetive noises beginning to spill out of him.

Worry or no worry, Octavia let that possibility hang over him and his pleasure. She couldn't see his hand, but she could see the movement in his shoulder, in his arm. And couldn't stop watching.

The grip of her hands on his hips was so tight by now that he was going to end up with tiny crescent indents on his skin from her nails.

She couldn't stop marveling at how she could feel every thrust into him.

Definitely couldn't stop doing it, again.

It wasn't that Lucifer never got this, but-- well. Duke was Duke, and had his own ways. Octavia's unrelenting nature was something else entirely.

Overwhelming, in a very good way.

He felt the pressure building in his abdomen, his hand moving faster and faster just to keep up with her. He moaned helplessly into the sheets, his breath twisting into something vastly more desperate.

And why did that just make Octavia want to push his desperation a little bit further?

"Stop."

It was out of her mouth before she'd even thought it through. But she wasn't stopping anything, oh no. She was still pulling him back into her thrusts at the breathless pace she'd settled into.

The burn in her muscles blended together with the coiling in the pit of her stomach.

That wasn't just a whimper, it was a whine.

And his hand dropped away from his cock immediately, as if her voice had torn straight through his body.

"Does it ache?" Octavia rasped, her voice heavy with... all of this. His obedience, his whine, the way she clenched around the toy.

She wasn't sure she was even expecting an answer. It felt more important to drive home she knew exactly what she was doing to him.

"Yes."

That might have been an answer.

Or a response to the way her latest thrust hit all the right nerves, filling him with something sweet and jagged and aching with the lack of release. He pressed his face to the mattress again. Dug his fingers into the blankets.

That couldn't have shoved her a little closer to the edge, could it? Because it kind of felt like it had. Her breath caught in her throat a little.

"Good," she managed. "You're here for me, first."

But all signs were pointing to his misery not likely being too long, now. The hands on his hips were getting a little restless, like they couldn't bring him back close enough, no matter how hard they tried.

She had set the scene enough that there was a part of him that... wondered. About her coming, with that cock in his arse and his frustrated release so close and yet so far. Tossing him aside, leaving him to his misery until she came down enough to have a use for him again.

It wasn't a fantasy he had ever spent much time on before, but Lucifer was an angel of desire. And it was hard not to develop any new fantasies when her desire was like-- this.

"Only for you," he babbled. "Only for you."

Octavia was going to be nicer than that, this time.

But it was certainly something to think about.

And right now, Octavia was thinking less and less about anything at all. Her hips worked with an increasing sense of desperation, just pushing her closer and closer to where she wanted to get, even as she wanted this feeling to last forever. And not just the physical, but also -- where her mind was.

Confident and unquestionably in control.

A stray thought pictured him like he was, but with his hands bound. Too bad she didn't tell him that was what ripped that strangled moan from her.

Lucifer wanted to touch himself so badly, the instinct almost overrode all sense. It was that mental image that kept him where he was, clinging to the bed in a desperate attempt to keep his hands busy.

To endure the pleasure, the sounds she was making.

He managed to turn his head just enough to catch sight of her from the corner of his eye.

Octavia, moving like a bloody conqueror.

He whimpered into his arm.

Guess this was what was still left of the queen she'd been. This vicious, relentless, deeply private part of her that had found an outlet and was digging its claws right into it.

Or pounding her dick into him, as the case may have been.

Octavia met his glance, caught that little one-third glimpse at his face and the beautiful, desperate strain written all over it. Her breath stuttered again, and --

"N-now, do it."

He'd have to be quick if he wanted to join her in going over the edge, because she could feel it revving up and maybe if she really tried, she could hold it off for the length of more than one thrust --

He was never going to make it. Not after all that, the stretches of waiting, pleasure cresting high and then falling again.

But Lucifer tried anyway, his fingers gripping desperately around his cock. Moving without finesse, just hurtling towards an edge that seemed too-far and too-close all at once.

As soon as she saw his arm move again, Octavia lost just about all focus she'd had on him. Her eyes squeezed closed on their own, and everything fell away except the sensation of the movement into him pressing the toy against her.

She made it through two rough, desperate thrusts before the pleasure burst inside her, and she choked on air as it seemed to clench-and-release its way through her.

But did she stop?

No. The movements just got... messier, more erratic.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject