okteiviakom | Lucifer's Mansion, Sunday Evening

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Lucifer's Mansion, Sunday Evening

The main course of the evening would be a nice salad, this week. And that meant Octavia was chopping a lot of fresh things into a bowl that was fast filling up.

"Finally a dish that caters to my skills," she rasped, glancing over at Lucifer putting his finishing touches on the dessert.

[ooc: For that gently modded guy, and likely some SP because that is the Sunday mood.]

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But he had all of Octavia's attention. She didn't miss it.

She nodded.

"Maybe next time we'll do that in front of this mirror," she rasped. "I'll remind you what it looks like when you get fucked. When you're on your hands and knees, just taking it, for as long as I decide."

"Yes," Lucifer sighed, his chin falling to his chest.

"I'll just wring every last bit of pleasure out of you for myself," Octavia promised, watching him. Intently. Even though her eyes were on his face, she was keenly aware of every breath, every tension. "And then I'll consider allowing you to get yours."

Lucifer's hips made little useless circles. He couldn't stop them.

"I want," he tried, and then he groaned again, his eyes searching out her face, her chest, her...

Yes.

Nothing he was doing right now was useless. Not when it was all something Octavia could commit to memory and cherish for a long while to come.

(Ha ha.)

"Yes?"

That was obnoxiously light.

"I want to come," Lucifer whispered, voice hoarse. "May I?"

Octavia smiled.

And said, "No."

(It wasn't as easy to say it as it looked. Not when he sounded like that.)

"You can do better than that."

Lucifer groaned as another cycle rolled over him. He wanted to tip over, press his forehead to the cold mirror, just to give himself an anchor.

He didn't.

"Please."

"No," Octavia said again, sweetly.

Lucifer whimpered, and his head tipped back a bit again, hips moving. Waves of sweet, dangerous pleasure rolled over him, pushing him ever higher.

Had to. Say things. Yes.

Yes. Yes he should, because Octavia wasn't budging.

Octavia was, however, wishing she'd thought to catch any of this on video, but fumbling around with her phone was the last thing she wanted to do when she could just be looking at him, instead.

All shallow breath and wide eyes.

"Yes, yes, yes," Lucifer chanted, and suddenly-- he was there, perched right at the edge.

His hand shot out to touch the mirror.

"Octavia, please, I want to come so badly, let me--"

"Beg," Octavia breathed.

Because she could.

Because she wanted to.

"Please, please, please..."

A different chant, then.

Lucifer forced himself to look, to stare in the mirror, to watch himself pant and mumble the words. To drag his gaze away from himself and to her eyes, watching him through the mirror.

"Please let me come," he gasped. "Please."

When their eyes met, Octavia's skin felt electric.

She held for just a second - probably felt like longer, it did to her - and then finally said, her voice all hoarse, "Do it."

"Thank you," Lucifer groaned, his hand sliding down the mirror.

He let it all go. All the restraint, all the chilling thoughts. Thought about her, the way she looked at him just now, the fascination on her face.

Her body, responding to his fingers, forever ago, and--

His hips spasmed, and the muscles in his abdomen pulled tight. His eyes shut, and he let out a filthy moan as he spilled himself into the cylinder (thinking about her saying milk you dry in that voice--).

Octavia gave a soft gasp, like she was feeling some of that.

He was -- she had no words for it. All she could do was drink the sight of him in.

"Oh," Lucifer whispered.

And then, "oh," as he realized the bloody thing was still moving around him, trying to push him for more.

And then Octavia was right beside him. (When had she made the decision to stand up? Probably at the same time as she'd been doing it.) The vibrations got weaker before she tossed her phone back on the chair.

Then she reached for the cylinder, and the power button at the end.

Lucifer looked aside, feeling an-- incomplete sense of relief as the stimulation diminished.

And then she was there.

"Octavia."

As the power clicked off and the rest of the rumbles went away, Octavia's free hand slid onto the small of his back.

(His skin was warm against hers.)

"Should probably ease this off, yourself."

Lucifer gave a shallow nod. He reached down, prying the damned thing delicately from his softening length.

Before it had a chance to start hurting. "There," he said, as it came off.

Octavia took it from him, and set it aside to wait for cleaning.

Her newly free hand slid onto his stomach.

She pressed a little kiss to his upper arm.

"Hello," Lucifer said quietly. And... tentatively slid an arm around her waist.

The hand against his belly slid up, up, up, until it could slide onto his cheek.

She urged him gently to turn to face her.

"Hello."

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