okteiviakom | Lucifer's Mansion, Sunday Night

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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.]

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Lucifer's eyes slid up from her fingers to her face. "Anything," he breathed. "Everything."

In the moment, it felt true.

It was also not a particularly helpful reply for Octavia's current dilemma, but she could hardly blame him.

He was just being obedient.

He was just showing his love.

Her hand traveled down his jaw again.

Lucifer's eyes fluttered shut.

"I think about touching you," he whispered. "But I won't."

"What if I let you?" Octavia asked just as quietly, fingertips ever so light against his skin. "Not with free reign, obviously."

"Please."

His voice was even quieter.

Octavia's gaze flicked down towards his hands. Then back up to his face.

She leaned over to press a kiss against his forehead. And then a single word.

"Okay."

But he would have to wait a moment to find out how.

Lucifer's hands were folded neatly in his lap. Not touching.

He let out a soft sigh at the touch of her lips.

Octavia pressed another kiss closer towards his temple, just because.

Then she moved, to climb properly onto the bed.

And Lucifer watched her. He couldn't look away: not from her primitive sense of grace, nor the picture of her back on his bed with intent to do-- something.

Not for the first time that night, all he could think about was how beautiful she was.

Octavia stretched out luxuriously on the bed.

And then rolled onto her side, facing away from him. Apart from a glance back at him, over her shoulder. "Well, come on then," she rasped, as if he was supposed to have known to move already. (He had not.)

But invitations to be the big spoon for her did not come often.

"Yes," Lucifer said, sounding faintly apologetic, somehow. He slid over towards her, pressing his front to her back. His arm curled around her waist.

It felt good.

It did.

Octavia had her eye on something to make it feel even better (for one of them), but for now... She wanted to take a moment just to appreciate this. The weight and warmth of him against her back, knowing it was his skin against her clothes.

Her hand reached back, trying to guide him to press his face to the crook of her neck.

"Tell me about what it was like," she said, quietly. But like she was still in charge.

"Almost like you were there," Lucifer said softly. "Pushing me. Holding me in your grip. Keeping this... tension in me."

He pressed his face against her neck.

"Just with your words alone."

"Good," Octavia breathed. "That's what I wanted."

Her hand ran down along his arm, all the way to his hand. Her fingers pushed between his.

"You were good."

"I... just... want," Lucifer said, as he felt that present tense force its way into his words. "To throw myself at your feet," he murmured. "Knowing that you don't even have to stand there, I can just... feel you."

He squeezed her fingers.

"And it makes me... want you to take from me..."

How had anyone ever let him go? Octavia couldn't understand. She shivered faintly, listening to him.

(A god's voice in her ear, telling her he wanted to throw himself at her feet.)

"There is so much," she whispered, her voice heavy with something, "I want to take from you."

Who had ever claimed Lucifer had the proper temperament to be God?

"Do," he whispered.

There was nothing steady about Octavia's exhale. But her hand was remarkably so, when it began guiding his. Slowly, but with a definite purpose.

Pushing his fingers down the front of her pants, now.

Underneath the edge of her panties, too.

Lucifer's breath audibly caught. But he made no moves to speed her up. Just... let himself feel as she did. "Mhm," he hummed, in recognition.

There had probably been no question about how well all of this had worked for Octavia, too. The damp mess of her underwear shed that last little bit of light on it regardless.

Or the heavy slickness that she was not at all shy about guiding his fingers to.

"As you wish," Lucifer whispered.

He slid his fingers between her folds.

He knew what was expected, now.

Octavia gave a tiny groan. Her own hand slid away, now that his was moving. She knew from (very recent) experience that her clothes didn't make it the most comfortable task, even though they had just about enough give, but that was his problem now.

"Always."

Lucifer wanted to kiss her neck. He didn't. She hadn't told him he could.

But he knew how to maneuver in a small space, slicking his fingers as he dragged them up and down in a brief tease-- then pushed them in with care.

They sank in without much resistance at all, forcing a muted little moan out of Octavia as her head tipped back against him, that kissable neck arching some.

"'S right..."

"Beautiful," Lucifer whispered, dragging his fingers back out, over her most sensitive nerve.

And back into her, languid.

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