Octavia Blake (
okteiviakom) wrote2022-06-19 12:46 pm
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Lucifer's Mansion, Sunday Night
As requested, date night dinner had been Thai, and delicious. And dessert, right now, also delivered on both because it was banana roti.
And yet, Octavia could barely focus on it at all. Because of a talk, earlier in the week, there was... an anticipation, here. Still a little vague, still only mostly-but-not-entirely certain. Just hanging over the scene at the table, unspoken of but present.
About half of Octavia's serving of roti was still there, though rapidly vanishing. "You can really taste the banana."
[ooc: For that guy, and likely NSFW-bound.]
And yet, Octavia could barely focus on it at all. Because of a talk, earlier in the week, there was... an anticipation, here. Still a little vague, still only mostly-but-not-entirely certain. Just hanging over the scene at the table, unspoken of but present.
About half of Octavia's serving of roti was still there, though rapidly vanishing. "You can really taste the banana."
[ooc: For that guy, and likely NSFW-bound.]
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His hand slid obediently to the remote. Fumbled. Dialed it up.
His hips rocked up into a grip that wasn't there.
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Who was definitely hoping to hear more noises from him, in fact. While she herself went quiet again.
(Apart from sounds he didn't get to hear.)
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Or her hand. For a moment, the thought of Octavia's pretty calloused fingers around him filled Lucifer's mind. "Oh," he sighed, "Yes."
His eyes were firmly shut. His hips were making little movements now, into the plug. "It's just," he managed, "So close. You are--"
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And she was ignoring his need. (For now.) She was still staring at the screen, of course, but her focus was turning inward - in more ways than one. His noises, his words, it all became the best possible soundtrack for how she finally upped the intensity of her hand rubbing over her core, finally committing to chasing the edge instead of courting it.
She bit down hard on her bottom lip. So close.
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He was still babbling, but nothing much came out that made much sense. Snatches of memory, mostly. Comments on how beautiful he imagined she was right now.
His fingers tangled in the sheets and clung on. Reduced, now, to soft gasps and small moans. (It wasn't the toy, was the thing. It was the thought of doing this for her.)
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Snapped, tensing her body into those few seconds where the wave hit its peak and then crashed through her.
Intense enough that a strangled noise escaped her.
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But there was nothing to see.
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He would just have to wait to see her later. To hear about it, later.
Octavia allowed herself a few deep breaths, her head tipped back against the back of the couch. Hanging on to all of her already established selfishness.
She managed to bring the phone back closer to her mouth after a moment. Definitely sounded breathless, now. "Can you do it for me one more time?"
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But his hand had already wrapped visibly around his length.
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She wasn't asking for a long time, she was asking him to torment himself for her. To make her afterglow that much sweeter.
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Lucifer dragged a groan out of himself at the first stroke. And... then there was barely any holding back, as he gave in to the deep need swimming inside of him. His hand moved swift and hard.
Don't tip over. Don't tip over. Don't tip over--
His hand stopped abruptly, squeezing tightly on the base. The whimper that dragged out was rough.
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At. All.
"Oh," she whispered. Such a small sound, but the edge of her smirk was audible in it.
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It was a soft whisper.
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Of course she would pretend she hadn't heard it properly.
(Octavia had most definitely heard it properly, had committed it to memory, felt it all the way down to her core.)
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"Hmm."
There was a long, long pause. Very deliberately.
And then finally, "Do it."
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He rocked his hips up into his fist, moving fast, with ragged thrusts. A loud, desperate moan wrung its way out of his throat and then he was coming, coming, coming all over his hand.
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And doing nothing at all to the way Octavia's body was insisting she could go for round two, actually.
"Good boy," she breathed.
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That sounded painfully earnest.
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He was a mess, in several ways.
And her voice was still a low rasp. "You can turn off the toy, now."
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It was a relief when it finally stopped-- buzzing.
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The call ended.
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Just breathing. Rubbing slow circles onto his chest.
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For her part, she downed what was left of her cider, then got off the couch. Made her way into the kitchen, got a big glass, filled it with water.
Then she began to make her way upstairs.
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And not just because of the orgasm.
Lucifer sighed and groped around for his wine, eyes still half-closed.
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