okteiviakom | Lucifer's Mansion, Sunday Night

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Lucifer's Mansion, Sunday Night

It was a very 90s alt rock kind of evening at the mansion, this particular Sunday. Which didn't actually mean much except that Octavia had commandeered the living room sound system for a bunch of Jane's Addiction and the like.

And also that dinner was even more of a relaxed affair than it usually was, meaning it was one they could enjoy on the couch. Easy, relatively non-messy finger foods.

"What was this one, again?" Octavia asked, reaching for one of the dessert ones.

[ooc: For that guy.]

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"Better," Octavia decided, pushing back against his hips juuust a tiny bit.

Lucifer thought about icebergs and TED talks about visual design. He gripped her hips with both hands, this time, and rocked into her again.

Three.

Four.

"Five.,"

"Oh, you're getting the hang of it," Octavia noted, low and a little breathless, bracing herself a little more heavily against the wall. "Didn't think you had it in you."

A beat.

"To be in me."

She was hilarious.

"Oh, I always have it in me."

That... was surprisingly like a growl, wasn't it?

Lucifer rocked into her, pushing her further up against the wall. Six. Seven.

That was a lot like a growl, especially compared to everything before it. And it stoked just about every desire Octavia currently felt in her body.

"Didn't -- seem that way," she half-panted, "when it looked like you thought I'd told you to just use me to keep your dick warm."

She was definitely doing her best to meet the thrusts with a little backward movement of her own.

"Just had to-- adjust," Lucifer managed.

He was holding on by his fingernails, and he knew it. But he was good at that, even if he'd forgotten for a moment in his lust-heavy fog. He could hang on. He just needed to focus-- on anything-- but what she was doing to his cock.

Eight. Nine. "Fuck," he gasped, and rocked into her rough.

"Oh," Octavia gasped in turn, because -- well, that was a good thrust.

A laugh bubbled up, low in her throat.

(Maybe a bad sign.)

Ten.

She'd said ten. Lucifer's hips almost moved for another one, but he couldn't-- he shouldn't.

His hand slid from her hip and groped for the wall.

It was his lucky day.

Maybe?

"I've changed my mind." She could do that: she was in charge. Answered to no one. "Ten more." A beat. "You count out loud, this time."

Oh no.

"Yes," Lucifer said helplessly. His hips managed a little helpless tremble, and then the thrust they had hoped to make followed, and once again he wasn't so sure he'd make it-- "One," he gasped. "Two."

And now that he handled the counting, Octavia could devote her focus to more important things.

Like her very best effort to squeeze the muscles around him at a somewhat opportune timing.

She had definitely recovered her devilish streak tonight. No amount of hollow marketing phrases could quell the building tension in Lucifer's stomach, and he knew that not after the, "Three," but definitely after the hoarse, "Four."

At "Five," his fingers dug back into her hips, and he came to a brief stop.

Octavia pressed back against him, and shot him a look over her shoulder. She looked a little smug. "No stopping," she said. "Come on, Mr. 'Always Have It In Me'."

That renewed squeeze was unfair, probably.

That was why she did it.

"Nghhh," Lucifer managed, intelligibly. Think of something. Anything. Snails?

"Six," he stammered, feeling the slide of his cock through her body rather-- acutely. "S-seven."

She was wet, and so beautifully tight around him.

By now, Octavia was kind of guessing he was probably trying to distract himself by trying to focus on other things. Luckily, though, Octavia had ways of trying to... catch more of his attention.

"Come on, now," she breathed, her own voice a little strained from all this. "Feel how -- perfect that is? How you're, mm, filling me up? Don't you just wanna get balls deep and just let go and -- and let me feel your cock tremble while you just unload in me?"

Oh he could see it right now, how bloody incredible it would be to just let go, shove her up against the wall, and ride her beautiful arse to glory, no matter what vague ideas he might have had at the start of the evening.

"Eight," Lucifer groaned, and felt it all rising up, his balls tightening up. His hand shot forward and caught the wall again. "Octavia, please."

There would be no mercy here.

"Bet you'd love it." Her voice was rough, but hadn't lost all of its lazy mischief, not even as she talked a little quicker. "Getting what you've been reaching for since you didn't get to shoot your load down my throat, when you didn't get to spill all over your hand... You could get what you want and just hold my ass to your hips, just fill me up with your cum right here --"

He had two options, neither of them good.

Lucifer groaned and dropped forward, his forehead against the wall. His entire body went still. "If you don't--"

"If I don't, what?" Octavia replied breathlessly, squirming back against him. "Eight is no place to stop, Lucifer."

"If I move even an inch I will come," Lucifer whispered, strained and hoarse and utterly wrecked.

Now that was something Octavia was going to playing over and over in her head at some point in the future, him sounding like that.

She glanced at him. "Too bad for you."

"Octavia."

He was delirious with want, pride, and terror all at once.

And here was Octavia, not budging.

"Not my problem."

Lucifer whimpered.

He pulled back, feeling her slide along every. Sensitive. Nerve.

It was too much.

He came the second he pressed back in, his poor abused balls emptying themselves half across her skin, half inside of her. Filling him with relief, the release of pressure. "Oh, fuck--"

Octavia gave a soft gasp as she felt him give up.

"Oh, that's it," she murmured, in a soft and soothing manner that wasn't going to last. "Give me all of it, Lucifer, let it all go."

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