okteiviakom | The Cape Rouge, Monday... Noon? Ish?

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The Cape Rouge, Monday... Noon? Ish?

"I think my spring is coming, Octavia. And I can't wait to see what it's like."

There had been no surprise in how hard it had been to say goodbye. Ilian had been impossibly calm and steady, and Octavia had just done her best to keep it together. Be brave, like he'd wanted her to be. Nou fir wamplei in, em bilaik stoda kom nes soujon noumou. Easy for him to say when he'd already done it, when she was the one left to mourn him all over again.

(That last glimmer of someone seeing something human in her before the bunker, The Dark Year, the valley. The last time in six years before the multiverse saw fit to yank whatever had been left of her back to Fandom, to put herself back together again.)

"If you want to honor me, maybe you should plant something. Grow something."

How was she supposed to do that, Ilian?

Everything hurt again.

And Octavia was finding it very hard to even get out of bed. In fact, she hadn't, yet. Just kept laying there, either staring at the ceiling or the line of already slightly smudged dots along the inside of her forearm. Ilian had drawn them with a marker, explaining to her about the tattoos of his clan. Just another thing she'd never had time to learn before.

She knew this had all been a gift.

But right now it was a little hard to ignore how much it also felt like having been stabbed in the gut again.

[ooc: Open for thems that live here, should they so wish.]

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Duke raised an eyebrow. Tilted his head.

"Works for me."

That'd be another decent way to maybe shut his brain off.

A pause.

"...Would that be more helpful than trying to get you to sit down for a glass of water and something to eat?"

LUCIFER.

"It'd be a hell of a lot easier." He was still much too twitchy to just sit and eat something. As evidenced by the way he was shifting his weight from foot to foot, hands messing with whatever they found in his pockets.

Lucifer contemplated it.

"It's worth a shot," he allowed, shucking off his jacket.

Duke pulled his undershirt off -- he'd already discarded his overshirts early on in the punching.

This was so romantic.

Romance seemed unlikely in the current immediate post-Haven climate.

(Lucifer just wished he could get Duke to sit down and talk about Wade...)

Either way, he unbuttoned his shirt as he began his stalk towards Duke.

Duke was nowhere near ready to talk about Wade. Not to anyone who knew him at all well. The less talking he had to do right now, the better, really.

Which would be why he was already reaching for Lucifer to pull him into a kiss before Lucifer was even done with that shirt.

In some way it was almost a relief. Two weeks of trying to communicate with Duke on any honest level and failing, now giving way to a type of communication that, by its very nature, had to be personal.

Lucifer shoved Duke up against the bulkhead, true to his word, and kissed him back.

Oh yeah. This felt like exactly what Duke needed. He pressed his kiss harder, nipping at Lucifer's lower lip, grabbing onto Lucifer's arms. Not quite pushing back, but gripping tight, encouraging Lucifer to push harder.

This wasn't subbiest sub to ever sub Duke. This was the Duke who had suggested to Octavia that they could maybe make their games a fight.

This was a Duke who wanted to be made to submit.

Perhaps one day Lucifer would have to have a conversation with Linda as to how he'd wound up with two partners who held that as a major kink, but-- well. He wasn't going to object. He was good at playing this game, after all.

Lucifer obliged him, shoving him back harder, putting just a touch of that celestial strength in it. He pulled away from Duke's mouth for a moment to bite at his jaw, at his neck.

He'd gotten the hint, was what that said.

Duke sucked in a hard breath at the bites, shutting his eyes and tilting his head up for a moment to give Lucifer room -- then pulled away as best he could to return the favor and attack Lucifer's own neck.

Lucifer's hand slid up into Duke's hair, clawing it back into its chaotic shape. He growled, something in the back of his throat, but he made no move to stop Duke yet.

The hair grabbing dragged a moan from Duke, and he dug his nails into Lucifer's arms as he nipped at his ear.

"You're still wearing too many clothes," Lucifer pushed out, voice low, pressing Duke into the bulkhead with the back of his arm while he grappled with the button of Duke's trousers.

Duke laughed breathlessly. "Hey Pot, this is Kettle." He didn't reach for Lucifer's fly just yet, though, just kept scraped his fingers down Lucifer's arms and rested his head against the bulkhead while he let Lucifer work on his pants.

"Still giving me sass, are you?" Lucifer asked.

He shoved Duke's jeans down his hips.

"Seems like. You going to make me stop?"

Please make him stop, Lucifer. That grin was begging to be wiped off his face.

"Yes," Lucifer growled.

And flipped him over, shoving Duke chest-first against the wall.

Duke grunted, then laughed again. "That's a start," he gasped, flexing his fingers against the bulkhead. "Think maybe you can do better, though."

"Barely getting started, darling," Lucifer smirked, pulling Duke's head to the side so he could leave a string of kisses and bites along the length of his neck.

Duke groaned, rocking back against Lucifer as much as he could. Tension in his body not so much easing as redirecting, focusing in on this experience instead of the hurricane in his head.

Good. If Lucifer could at least help in that small way... "And there's plenty of things to bend you over in here," he added, smirking.

And leaving one rather rough bite right above his shoulder.

Duke laughed, bright and wild. "Quit talking and start doing, babe."

"That's not up to you, is it," Lucifer smirked.

He shoved Duke up against the bulkhead again, and this time, his hand crept down to a rather more sensitive target than Duke's fly.

Duke let out a soft cry, pressing even more firmly back against Lucifer. Needing pressure from him in every direction he could get.

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