He Nearly Didn't Catch That Her Handed Was Headed Places. Distracted.

"Hngk." About the increased pressure and friction. Little much, now, but it doesn't hurt him the way it should. Pulls a flush into his face at worst. Being a menace to that poor thing.

The quickest thing to learn about Lucifer is his hands and mouth are curious and wandering things. He's intense with them. And curious. So he does indeed find her pulse and feel it. Teeth closing around the skin there on her throat and pressing tongue to feel it. It's good. (Not a single flickering Hell Noise impulse to tear it out.)

Then he had to pull away and let her get out of own shirts and things. Snorting as some of the buttons went flying. (She'd never find at least one of those ever again.) He didn't have long to be bemused before she was pressed up to him again.

Hands and fingers right back to searing over skin. Finding details and quiet honestly appreciating them. Lingering, even. Tracing when they caught and seeking out more to follow. Takes the love bite to his throat to remind him what he was doing.

Hissing in a breath and reeling some. There went his belt! Ha!

He'd let Irene get as far as to get his fly open before he'd do a maneuver to turn her around. Drawing her back into him in a trapping hold. He wasn't done touching, thank you. Stealing some power back if you please.

She's got all this warm skin to get to. And he'd be sure to make more of it visible in dragging her pants and undergarments down to at least her knees (if they fell off after, all the better). Hands went right back to wandering.

Though they had purpose this time. One gliding up high and the other low. Starting with a cup of a breast and squeeze of on inner thigh. Only warning he gave before a thumb rolled across a peak to make it pearl. And other skimmed higher to cup and stroke between thighs, a petting. Mouth had plenty of real estate to give open mouthed kisses to skin, hot and often accompanied by teeth and swipe of tongue. Between the back of her neck and spot behind her ear and shoulder and side of her neck--plenty.

He was too girthy to get down to brass tacks immediately. In his experience, he had to do some prep work. And it's a fantastic excuse for getting those hands and fingers (and sometimes tongue) into places.

Irene gives a soft chuckle at his groan, pressing her leg more against him as she claimed every messy uncoordinated kiss. She whines when he pulls away to finish pulling off his undershirt, hands now hooking into his belt.

Never had calluses felt so good, rasping the skin at her sides. Her chin instinctively lifts at his kiss, offering her neck to him as a shuddering breath escapes her. Could he feel her pulse, frantic beneath her skin? Desperate for him?

It was her turn to strip her layers and she did so viciously, snapping a few of the more stubborn buttons off in her hurry to unbutton her shirt. Then came her own undershirt, a silken tank top and under that, her lace bra. She’d press naked breast against his chest, going in for another grind with her leg. She too was surprisingly devoid of scars to the naked eye, but rough hands still managed to catch on what few there were. A few on her back, reminders of her climb to power and a thin slice between two of her ribs from a jilted lover.

“Lucifer..” A whine escapes her, needy and wanting as she kisses along his jaw before sinking her teeth in a light love bite into his neck. Nothing that would break skin, just a need to claim him if only for the moment. Hands now attempted to tackle his belt, pulling it off and throwing it to the side as if it offended her.

[Can't just do that. (Though Pride obviously could and would do that.) It's intense and over cements the close twisting tie of his emotions and his libido. Steals a breath out of him and he dug dull teeth into the spot under Pride's ear. That's not fair.

Not that he wasn't hard and panting hot against skin in seconds. Awkwardly hunched to keep Pride to himself, almost.

Be mine, be mine, be mine. It is wildly delirious to be getting his emotions metaphorically kicked around and then be caught up intimately in someone's hands. Fingers got into Pride's hair to pull and tilt his head a bit more back where he could kiss him again. Muffling a shaky moan in it.]

[Pulled him in closer somehow.

Okay, you're here. Still.]

Don't do it again.

[Came rasping harshly out of him by Pride's ear in this little interlude. Lucifer was an infernal mess like the rest of them. Everything important always came out wrong. Like threats and violence.

He was always trying a little harder for the short list of people that got close enough to bother for.

P.S. he knew there was no promise to be made, it would likely happen again.]

With some time to adjust and get used to things, he started to breathe more deeply. More paced. Despite all the warm laves of tongue trying to make him go bonkers.

Got so far as to make his hands unclench. He was, however, still stubbornly keeping sounds in his throat. Biting his own lower lip hard with an arch that takes some of his spine right off the table when third finger is added to the mix. To his credit, he kept his body relaxed.

"Y-yes." A stuttered answer once his spine was back on table and he could respond without sounding too wildly overwhelmed. Full was good. Full was something different with this body.

Hm. Well. He'd keep that in mind.

He'd let Lucifer buck and writhe between those two points of contact, letting his tongue dip further down the shaft, flat and flickering and able to curl around the thick heft of him.

Otherwise just keeping things at that level for now-- he could hear the man's heartbeat hammering, and those shallow breaths were a trouble. Kept working his fingers in and out steadily, tongue dragging up the Fallen's torso again.

Didn't need him passing out.

"We see how well you take it, hm? Like being nice and full?"

He would then work one more finger inside, slow, just to make sure he had a chance of getting himself in all the way.

Sound was still a hair trigger. Pride was playing just fine into that as much as the touches and words.

The chuckle made his skin feel too hot even before the intense commands and singular secretive moan. "Hahn, fuck--" A hoarse cuss and groan. Giving in to the instinct to buck hips between the cock gradually hollowing him out and the tight encirclement of his own leather clad grip. Shit. Fuck.

He lost track of his restraint. And his inhibition in those final moments. Unabashedly loud. Near incoherent. An almost Note slipping out of a final husked cry as he pushed back and came hard enough to paint some of his release onto wall in front of him. Body tighter around Pride.

v

The sound of his Name, as always, drove him a little fucking crazy. Always sounded so perfect coming from Lucifer, though he would never admit it aloud. But he craved it, hands tightening further on that throat as his hips drove into Lucifer hard and with abandon.

Did notice the other’s efforts to bring himself to the finish line though. Couldn’t keep in a breathless chuckle that slipped from his mouth and into Lucifer’s ear.

“Come undone for me,” he hissed out between exhales and barely choked back moans of his own, able to keep all but one from slipping out against Lucifer’s shoulder. Had to take in another breath before practically growling. “I want to hear you louder.”

[The small blessings of a very sturdy desk, he couldn't have kept himself off the ground before long without it.

He was a mess in minutes. Reluctance to act so distant about getting his insides rearranged melting off him as moments ticked. It was hard to keep it together. Didn't even really want to.

Some years ago, someone installed all these fucking secret tunnels into his chest and more and more people were slipping through them. Not a lot, but more and more...

The sounds Pride made were electrifying. Even more than the sting of his poor dick hitting the underside of the desk in tandem to the Sin's onslaught. Sound of flesh hitting flesh, too, left him seeing a few spots in his vision. It's a lot. It's borderline too much. The claws breaking into his skin at his hips makes it impossible for him to move or think.

There's just--]

P-Pride-- [Slipped out of him urgent and desperate. Uneven and searching. The hand not on desk edge went over his own shoulder to get hold of the fabric of Pride's shirt at the Sin's shoulder while he was leaned in so close. Just trying to anchor. To touch someone as he felt so hollowed out and secure at once.]

[The plan, before Pride had so rudely interrupted, had been to work himself with a bit of lube and his own fingers, but here we are 'god laughs' and all that.

Hard to say how he would have weathered out a more dry and brutal approach, but Pride hadn't gone that route.

Don't fucking artificially inflate his ego right now! His head and heart were all over the place and he didn't know where they got off to, just that he felt sore about their recent manhandling.]

H-ah! [A short, sharp, cry into the surface of the desk. That's a lot to just take in a swift go. When he truly wasn't used to being under someone else, especially. It's a hot, fiery, lance of a sensation to be suddenly full despite any resistance his body might've offered. Felt only marginally different from the sting of pressed in claws.

He sent a hand up to blindly find the edge over his own head to grip tightly, making the wood there creak. Focus frighteningly narrow on the grip, fill, and hold on his hips. Aware of the warmth radiating off of the Sin hovering so close to his back. Comforted.]

i know a handful of people who see performing oral as a purely submissive act, and i just can’t bring myself to agree. it can be, of course—i have a healthy appreciate for putting a sweet thing’s pretty little mouth to better use. but god, i love the feeling of being down on my knees, watching your knees tremble and your legs buck as you try to stand tall. i love having you splayed flat out, the way your back arches and your voice shakes, as you try to get closer, closer, closer. you’re mine. mine to pleasure, if i so wish. there’s a certain kind of dominance in that.

holding a magnet to your crt girlfriend's face for just a moment so you can watch her emotions and personality all coalesce and dissolve around the pretty little spot of void you've made in her

[Why was the Sin grabbing his face and not fucking doing what he was to--

So unexpected was the turn around that he hit the desk with a startled grunt and a fairly dumb blink down at the desk surface under his face. Realizing he'd lost control of the situation and bristled.

His face was overheated and he knew that meant he was bright red. So he hid a bit by pushing forehead into the surface of the desk. Truth of the matter was, he was inconceivably strong. So if he wasn't fixing this situation in some way, it was very telling.

About as much as his silent reach to hook thumbs under waist band and easing everything down to just near his knees. Don't look at him.

He had the opposite want on eyes that Pride did. When he was feeling exposed and vulnerable. A mix of uncertainty and want leaving him a bit shaky.

This felt different than the first time he'd given himself over.]

[How does it feel? To whip your emotions and thoughts around at break neck speeds? He'd like TO FUCKING KNOW.

I can think of some more. [Eyes lidding all the more as Pride came in near. Don't tell anyone, but his dick did a tiny alert twitch on his thigh when the Sin came in near long before Pride started saying something to him at his ear.

Some reason he didn't think Pride would take the second offer.

Narrowed gaze went from nearly sleepy soft, whiskey lazy. To sharp and dangerous as he stood up. Stepping up close and bumping Pride back until the back of the Sin's thighs were bitten by the edge of the desk in question.

He stared down at Pride's face for a few tense seconds--then reached to one side to open a drawer in the desk, taking out the bottle of lubricant.]

Move. [Like he hadn't just nearly trapped the Sin where he was. And also like he didn't plan to budge to make it easier Pride to squirm back out of that space. He wasn't.]