Octavia Blake (
okteiviakom) wrote2022-02-13 11:31 pm
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Lucifer's Mansion, Sunday Night
It was Sunday night. There had been dinner: some nice takeout from some place on the mainland, followed by an even nicer dessert from some other place on the mainland. Panna cotta with fresh fruit was getting up there on Octavia's list of favorites.
But she had other favorite things, too.
And that was probably why they were already halfway up the stairs.
"Was that passionfruit on purpose?"
[ooc: For the Devil, and SP. NSFW bound, most likely.]
But she had other favorite things, too.
And that was probably why they were already halfway up the stairs.
"Was that passionfruit on purpose?"
[ooc: For the Devil, and SP. NSFW bound, most likely.]
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Last but not least, the arm pieces slid on, held together by a strap across the top of her chest, another across her back, criss-crossing with the chest harness underneath it.
There was something particularly practised about the way she fixed the clasps around her arms.
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Hard enough to yank her inward, though not so hard - he hoped - it would actually hurt.
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Didn't entirely even surprise her, although the way she moved with the yank was a little stumbly.
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Lucifer pulled it back, up over her head. And reached aside, for the night stand.
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"What are you doing?"
Oh, that felt like a misstep, somehow. Speaking.
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He wound the scarf around her hair, working it into a ponytail. "Or I'll make sure you are."
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It wasn't bad if it was soft, right?
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Making sure she knew he thought she was his to do with as he wanted.
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Anticipation pooled like a jittery weight in the pit of her stomach.
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His hand slid down, and wrapped around his length.
(Payback. A bit.)
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But that wasn't exactly something she would focus on when her gaze was drawn down to his hand, was it?
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Lucifer lowered his hips, and... rocked himself against her panties. Making sure to slide, ever-so-slowly, between her legs.
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And when he'd still been wearing pants.
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His eyes flicked towards her face, his gaze dragging down her body. "You look like something out of a magazine, do you realize that?"
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That wasn't an objection. Just... magazines were a little outside her frame of reference. (But what little she knew, it didn't feel like it fit.)
Anyway, her voice was soft, the word a very short one on purpose.
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Another slow glide.
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Oh.
The muscles in her abdomen jumped. The widening of her eyes was a little more subtle.
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The warmth between her legs said she didn't want one.
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He lifted himself up, and... slid forward.
"I'm working up to telling you I expect some help," he said, as he settled in front of her face.
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(Quite so easy on her.)
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She didn't plan to keep it up for very long.
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Lucifer reached out and pressed his thumb against her lower lip, nudging it down.
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