okteiviakom | The Cape Rouge, Sunday Morning

At first, the feeling was pleasant. A sort of a... sense of being alive? Sneaking its way into Octavia's body and into her subconscious as she slept, like sweet and warm and enticing.

But then, of course, she woke up. And it didn't take her long at all for her to realize it wasn't a feeling she tended to wake up with. And while it wasn't really yet springtime on Fandom, the flora on the island did whatever it wanted, sometimes, and it was definitely a time of year that sometimes brought really specific sensations and urges with it, so...

Octavia was pretty sure she knew what was going on.

Which meant that she was pretty sure one of the other in the bed was going to be more or less immune, yet again (since Lucifer was both a celestial and, honestly, didn't need any help from the pollen in the first place), but the other one... Remained to be seen. Duke hadn't felt it, the previous year, but the one before that, he'd had to leave the island for the week. So who even knew how this one would turn out.

Octavia slid quietly off the bed, to her feet. Grabbed something to wrap herself up in - Duke's discarded cardigan, maybe not the best choice for containing her current state - and padded out, into the galley. Like maybe some water and... distance would help her clear her mind a little bit.

(Unlikely, but a girl could try.)

[ooc: For those two, if they so wish.]

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Duke could not contain the throaty chuckle at that look on her face.

"You can definitely suggest themes you'd like us to stick to," he offered. "I know Ancient Greece and Rome are big favorites for you."

"Promise I won't reference any of the particularly terrible emperors," Lucifer promised.

He grinned up at her. "Now will you please come join us?"

Octavia gave Duke the tiniest little nod. "You might be onto something." More than that, really.

She eyed them both for a second. (Okay, several, because there was a lot to take in, and easy to get distracted.) Then, she took another sip from her mug.

Then she reached out to set it aside.

Duke grinned, setting his own mug aside so he could stretch his arm out to her.

"Yessss. Join us!"

And lo, so Lucifer's booze and coffee was moved, too. He, for his part, just hung back expectantly, sprawled lazily across his end of the bed, watching her.

It wasn't like an early morning naked cuddle and more wasn't normal for them.

Octavia crawled between them, sweater and all, for now. She tried settling into Duke's arms.

"Hi."

Her demeanor had suddenly lost all the raspy posturing, in favor of something much softer.

Duke embraced her happily, hands not roaming anywhere in particular under or around that sweater (yet). She was in charge of that right now, how far she wanted to take the sexy side of things.

“Hi.”

Lucifer rolled onto his side, sliding an arm around Octavia and Duke both.

"Welcome back," he murmured, mouth curving into a smile.

"I didn't go far," Octavia murmured. Did they both know they smelled great? She was curling up against Duke, but she could feel Lucifer against her back, and all of her senses yearned for them. "And I'm not running away."

She had, last time, almost literally. Long runs around the island, and then when her legs had started complaining about it, she'd drummed until her arms nearly gave out, too.

"That's right," Duke said, rubbing idle circles against her through the sweater. "Well done."

"We're happy to see it," Lucifer agreed. He pressed a gentle kiss against the back of her neck. "And to have you here, where you belong."

There was something about the warmth and the safety of it all.

Something about that 'well done', too.

Mix that in with pollen and the insistent way its effects coursed through Octavia's veins, and suddenly you got her just barely looking up at Duke, with the softest, hopeful request of, "Can you say... 'good girl'?"

(Words had meanings, and power, and sometimes held ritualized pleasure.)

“Good girl,” Duke said, combing his fingers through her hair. “Such a good, good girl.”

Lucifer let out a hum in the back of his throat.

What? She was right. He really did not need pollen.

Good girl. It was a phrase Octavia had fought to be able to lay a claim to, to have it be something she could accept, crave, sometimes need. Now being at a point where she could ask to hear it from Duke - and to hear it from Duke, regardless of what their actual dynamic was like or would ever be like - well, it was a heady feeling.

The soft whimper in her throat might have felt embarrassing, had her entire system not have already been absolutely flooded with a lack of caring about that sort of thing. She was looking up at Duke with open wonder.

Duke didn’t entirely get what was happening here on her end. But he knew from need. From wanting to hear and hating to hear something all at the same time.

“I mean it,” he said. And chanced a forehead kiss. “You’re my good girl.”

Lucifer glanced past Octavia, and tried to catch his eye for a moment. Smiling, a touch.

Mostly, his gaze said that he did know what was happening. And he thought it was good.

And in fairness, even Octavia didn't entirely know what was happening here on Octavia's end.

But she was giving into it. Leaning into that forehead kiss like it was a blessing. "I am," she whispered. "I want to be."

“I know,” Duke promised. “That’s a big part of why you are.”

He caught Lucifer’s look out of the corner of his eye, most of his focus on Octavia. He let go of her with one hand to rest it on Lucifer’s arm.

This was his favorite thing. In whatever combination. Lying in bed with his two favorite people. No harsh words, just softness and love.

And horniness. That was usually there too. With it without the pollen.

"You're doing very well," Lucifer agreed, almost a soft breath.

His own hand slid up, and tangled in Duke's hair.

Octavia nodded, a faint movement.

Her expression was open and vulnerable, her voice was soft. (And her pupils blown, and hungry. Welcome to witnessing this side of her, Duke. A sliver of how small she could get when she opened herself up to giving power away.) "Will you take care of me?"

It was a question to both of them. Evident, in part, by how she added to how tangled up they all were by reaching her hand back where it could land... well, somewhere on Lucifer.

It was a little bit terrifying. Exhilarating, too, but oh. Duke could fuck this up so easily.

But not right now.

“Always,” he said. And kissed her forehead again. “Otaim.”

"Yes," Lucifer whispered. "You are safe with us, darling."

His hand stroked down Duke's neck, then his back, then-- Octavia's hip. "We'll take care of you..."

Octavia shivered between them.

"Mochof," slipped out her mouth, soft and sincere.

And she nudged the cardigan around herself a little further open. An invitation, to help, to take care.

The Cape Rouge, Sunday Morning

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