A/N: Okay everyone… It's time for the story to reveal its namesake. So, at a certain point, I recommend pulling up Nine Inch Nail's Closer (or, hell, even Asking Alexandria's cover is good, if you're more into a harder version). I won't say when, as to not give too much away, but I think you'll all know when to do it. Enjoy you dark, dark creatures.
She didn't hear from him that night, and the grown-ass woman part of her told her to not worry, the more-needy-girl part of her was wondering what was going on. However, she kept reminding herself that they weren't a thing. They were fooling around, and hadn't even slept with each other (although his tongue had literally fucked her stupid on multiple occasions). Even with all of that pragmatism behind her, the physical and emotional reaction she had to him threw that logic out the goddamn you-make-sense window. It wasn't just a You get off, I get off, we all get off together thing. It was something deeper than either one of them was willing to admit. However… Lucifer seemed to be much more comfortable with that idea than she was. So why was she afforded the right to be concerned with him not talking? There we go, gotta love that pragmatic brain of hers.
Thursday morning came and went, and she had kissed her daughter goodbye because she was going straight to Dan's after school let out. There was a lot to be desired about LA's public school transportation, but the fact that Trixie was able to have two school buses to take her to either house was a convenience Chloe cherished immensely. That meant she wouldn't have to leave the house. That meant she was allowed to drink as many glasses of wine she wanted, starting that afternoon, because why the fuck not? Also… why worry about dirtying glasses when you can just drink out of the bottle?
The thing with drinking out of the bottle, however, is that you aren't quite area of how much you're drinking. She's draining the bottle before she realizes that she's feeling pretty damn good. Being child-free that evening, she's donning a pair of comfortable booty shorts and a shirt that she isn't convinced might be Trixie's. The kicker: sans bra. It's wonderful to be slightly buzzed and to have soft fabric rubbing against your neglected nipples. It's just barely 20:00 when she enters the kitchen to open a new bottle of wine and look to see what is edible in the fridge. Nothing for a singular meal, but plenty of one-to-two bites of a lot of different options. Variety. A woman of the world, she was.
Grabbing the two egg rolls, literally three bites of a burger, rice with some sort of mystery sauce, and an unknown food item that didn't smell like it had gone bad. She stared at the pathetic excuse for a meal on her counter and realized that the only reason she ever ate any better was if Trixie was around. The spread before her was not fit for a child to eat, but she was an adult, and she could mix the unholy spread with wine if she wanted to. With the open bottle of wine in one hand, she was about to reach and grab a questionably safe food item when the doorbell rang. She was grateful to not have dropped the bottle, but was not grateful that she was about to answer the door looking the absolute mess she thought she looked. Fuck it, right? Come to a single woman's house at night, expect to find a goddamn mess.
She stalked to the door, wine in hand, ready to give the person behind the door her best resting bitch-face for making her current state a fucking carnival attraction for them. Opening the door and her mouth, to give them a piece of her mind, she was met with the person behind the door, wearing their version of bummin' it. There was Lucifer, in all his tall, dark, too-handsome glory, wearing dark jeans that fit him sinfully well and a black t-shirt. She has absolutely never been more of a fan of a black t-shirt than she was in that moment. She stood there, mouth a gaping hole of what the fuck, and he just looked down at her before eyeing the bottle and stealing it as he walked inside her house.
Deciding that a closed mouth was a better look for her, she locked her door and turned around to watch him just strut into her kitchen like fucking owned the place (and he could own her with the way his ass looked in those jeans), casually sipping from the bottle. "Um, hello?" she greeted, more of a question than a happy to see you.
"Good evening, Professor," he said calmly, his voice like velvet in her ears, giving her that all-over chill that only seemed to make her instantly wet. He never turned around, and for some unknown reason, was a huge turn-on. She watched as he slowly swirled the bottle around in his hand before setting it down on the counter and picking up a container. She was instantly mortified and watched in horror as he proceeded to place something into his mouth. "What the fuck is this?" he asked around his mouthful of food, still chewing with a contemplative expression.
Chloe opened her mouth to speak, found herself without a fucking clue as to what he put in his perfect mouth, and walked over to him. She peered into the container, poked the "food" and then promptly looked up at him. "I'm not sure." Lucifer stopped chewing, swallowed, only slightly alarmed, and then shrugged. He tossed the container back onto the counter before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Seriously professor, for the sake of you and your spawn, I need to teach you how to actually cook something." Chloe chuckled at that, shoving him playfully before grabbing her bottle of wine from the counter. She narrowed her eyes at him while he took the bottle back, looking just as normal and stunning as he always did.
"So what's going on?" she asked, her tone still light and playful. He raised his eyebrows at her as if he had no idea what she could be talking about. "I mean, last time I saw you, you were acting all distant and said you were going to be really busy." She waited for a response, but when she realized she wasn't going to get one, she continued. "Now you're here just acting like your regular, albeit cheerful, self."
If he felt pressured by the question, he didn't act like it. He simply rolled his tongue around in his mouth, looking her over slowly, eyes dragging from her face down the rest of her body. "Things change, Professor," he admitted softly, tilting his head in a way that was both charming and the right kind of intimidating.
"Yeah, like your face," she added, motioning towards the side of his face that was bruised, surprisingly not as bad as he thought it would be. At least she couldn't see the laceration on the back of his head. The joys of thick, dark hair. There wasn't judgment in her tone, and he appreciated that. She probably just assumed it had something to do with work, or someone made that their partner drooled when he walked by.
"Ah, yes," he quipped, as if he had completely forgotten about his aching temple. "Just a spat after work last night," he finished, hoping she wouldn't ask any more questions. It wasn't a lie, he was in a "spat" after work, he just omitted that it was his thug brother threatening him and her, and the offspring. She didn't need to worry about that. "And before you ask, it was a tie, and I'm a tad disgruntled about it." He pouted his lips to make his point, and she seemed satisfied enough with his answer.
Chloe planted a sly grin on her face, taking him for his word, but assuming he wasn't telling her everything. He didn't have to. "I feel like I'm enabling some poor academic behavior but not telling you to go study."
"Nonsense," he chided, stepping closer towards, keeping his arms by his sides even while standing so close her head was tilted all the way back to see him. "I don't need any help enacting poor behavior." His words were deep and heated, and she felt as if her breath was sucked out of her lungs by the change in the atmosphere. They were alone. Completely alone. In her home, no fear of being seen or heard.
Licking her lips and not even thinking about the way his eyes trailed down to her mouth as she did so, she simply took a step back and tilted her head. "So, what's up with the threads? This your version of wearing sweats?"
He raised an eyebrow before crossing his arms over his chest. The t-shirt only accentuated how fucking hot he was by stretching to its limits over his arms and shoulders. Thankfully she couldn't see his chest behind his arms, or she probably would have taken everything off right there. "I'm feeling a bit bold, a bit casual," he answered, doing that thing with his face where he sticks his tongue into his cheek and literally looks like sex personified. "That a problem?"
"Not at all," she answered, making sure he could see that she was admiring him in different attire. "Dare I ask why you're feeling so audacious?"
He laughed at her vocabulary, although it didn't quite reach his eyes, like he was only half-in on the humor of it. "Might be the little squabble I was in. Adrenaline always gets me a little frisky." He honest-to-God winked at her while managing to make the term "frisky" sound normal and sort of sexy. She wanted to ignore the sparkle in his eyes; the one that seemed to be masking something. In the short time she had known him, she knew he hid behind his charming personality; a genuine mask to distract from the pain he felt.
"Frisky, you say?" she asked, her tone playful, leaning forward enough to grab the dangling wine from his fingers. Her knuckles grazed the underside of his chest and she could feel the heat of his skin through his illegally fitted shirt. "This is my second bottle," she started, taking a nice, long pull from it and loving the way his eyes darted to her throat. "You need to catch up."
"Already with you," he informed her, stepping right up to her and moving to lean down for a kiss, but she quickly dodged it. He could already she the annoyance in her face, and he fought every urge in him to not smirk at her. She was adorably square when it came to the rules; well, most of them.
"You mean you pre-gamed, then drove yourself here?" she asked, her expression hard, but not too hard. Clearly, he was coherent enough to walk around like a fucking deity, but it was the principle of the matter. "You have to stop doing that! It's bad!" It was hard to scold a man with a grin like that, and it was hard to scold a man with a fucking cock like that. Before she could register his movements, he reached out and grabbed her arm and pulled her flush against him. He only lowered his gaze enough to see her. She loved it, he could tell, her pupils dilated gorgeously to be held like that.
"Yes, I know, bad Lucifer," he chided, tilting his chin up to give her access to his neck. She was never one to look a gift-horse in the mouth, so she let her lips drag along his skin, never giving him enough friction to really feel it. It didn't stop him from shivering, though.
"Such a bad, bad, boy," she cooed against the edge of his jaw before lightly licking the stubble there. The groan she received for that shot straight to her center, and fuck if that didn't drive her crazy. She could play. She could so play this. Staring up at him through her lashes, she quickly turned around and walked away, gulping down the dark liquid and enjoying the warmth pooling in her stomach. She felt heat behind her, definitely not from the wine, and she knew he was following her, wherever she went, he'd go.
"I can make it up to you," he breathed out, deep and gravelly above the back of her head. "I can be good for you."
She wasn't sure why hearing those words out of his ridiculously pretty mouth made her entire body shudder as if she stepped outside in a snow storm, her nipples doing a great impression of becoming diamonds under her shirt. She had no idea what the hell was happening, and how they got to this weird sort of play, but she was into it. He was into it. If any indication to the state of her panties, as well as the hard length down his jeans, was needed to say that they were into it.
"You can be good, can't you?" she stated, less a question and more a fact for him to agree to. She turned around slowly, keeping their closeness the same. From her spot, she had to strain to look up at him, but he wasn't putting off any intimidating or dominant energy. Instead, she felt that she had the energy, she had the power, and he stood in front of her, size and all, waiting to be commanded.
"Mhmm," he replied softly, his eyes turning almost black, lips parting, and he looked even younger with the pure need she could see plainly on his features.
"Just need someone to show you how," she whispered, placing one of her hands on his hip, the other traveling up to play with the shorter hairs on the back of his neck. He groaned loudly, leaning into the touch like his life depended on it. "Right?"
"Yes," he answered, almost inaudibly, and she would have missed it if she hadn't watched his lips barely move to form the affirmation. Her entire body thrummed with a warm energy, whether it be from the wine or from the pliant god in front of her, or probably a mixture of both, and she never wanted it to end. She had never felt as confident in what she was about to do. Never felt as sure and as comfortable with herself to let something like this happen, and she was going to run with it.
She tugged on his hair, thoroughly enjoying the way his mouth twitched open before his jaw tensed as he grit his teeth. She pulled him down by her grip and he moved easily to where she wanted him to mouth along the side of his head, lips grazing his ear. The fingers on his hip moved to trail under the hem of his shirt, just barely touching skin and making him shudder almost violently. "Show me," she ordered softly into his ear, earning a small whimper. "Show me how you can be good for me."
So there she was, in her itty bitty spinster clothes, bringing a man to his knees by his hair that had no business looking as good as he did. He fell willingly, looking up at her through thick, dark lashes, face hovering over her breastbone from his kneeling position. The reverence in his eyes was enough to make her want to run her fingers through his hair, kiss and lick her way across his face, whisper sweet, terrible things into his ear, and take him apart piece by piece. She pushed his face against her skin lightly, and he indulged in kissing her through her clothes, large hands moving up to graze the backs of her legs with feather-light touch. She shivered when his fingertips traced the hem of her shorts before slipping behind the fabric to cub her ass in his palms, the heat of his breath sinking through her shirt as he nipped lower and lower.
Frustrated with the need for more, Chloe hurriedly pulled her shirt off and tossed it away without a care, leaving her upper body completely bare. He licked his lips as he admired her naked skin, tongue running along his teeth as he decided where to taste first. Lucifer's lips settled against the soft skin above her navel, pressing wet kisses along her body. His mouth traveled north and attached to one nipple before the other, laving at the sensitive buds in a quick back-and-forth motion, as if he couldn't get enough of either. She could feel his hot breath rolling across her skin as his mouth moved in a frenzy, and the warmth followed by cooling air was intoxicating. She became a glutton in that moment, needing even more from him, and grabbed his arms, trying to haul him back up to standing. He seemed reluctant to follow her lead, but he lifted himself with a finally pop, releasing a nipple from between swollen lips. She captured his mouth with hers the second she could reach him as she started to walk them back towards her couch.
Lucifer followed, helping her wiggle out of her shorts and underwear on their less-than-graceful trek to the living room. Once there, she quickly spun him around to force him down on the cushions, large frame completely covering the length of the couch. She was very aware of her completely bare form in comparison to his fully clothed one, but the look of pure hunger on his face gave her the confidence to crawl up his body, straddling his chest. He lifted his head to get a taste, but she roughly shoved his head back down by a firm grip into the hair above his forehead. He hissed, eyes squeezing shut, but his lips parted in a slight smile that made her tremble. When he finally opened his eyes, they were heated in a mix between carnal need and submission; he was hers to take, hers to use.
Her own blue eyes darkening, she lowered herself down, just out of his reach, keeping her stare on his eyes. She could feel his breath against her delicate skin and could see the struggle for restraint in his features. It was everything she could have wanted. Almost as if he couldn't stand the pressure anymore, she felt his arm shift beneath her, and looking over her shoulder proved her instinct right. His hand was pressing against the very obvious bulge in his pants, likely trying to relieve the painful tension of his erection, just a little. With the hand not in his hair, she reached behind her, gripping his wrist hard to still his movements, tsking in disproval. Chloe turned her head back to look down at him, his pained, almost dire, expression clear, and another wave of arousal slicked between her thighs.
"The faster you make me cum, the faster you get to take your dick out." She licked her lips and tugged at his hair as he began eating her out with the enthusiasm of a starved man being handed a hot meal. She felt his hand travel from her thigh to hover fingers over her entrance, but she tugged his hair in protest. "No cheating, just your mouth." He whimpered into her flesh, but he listened, moving both hands hold her hips to keep his tongue and lips the sole players. It was downright sinful the way he could work his mouth against her, and she shamelessly rode his face with wanton abandon. She could feel his hums of approval and arousal every time she ground herself down on his tongue, wondering if he was a free-diver in his spare time. The man never seemed to come up for air, so to speak.
A particularly slow, rough drag of his tongue against her clit produced those tell-tale signs of imminent release, forcing her to lean forward and brace herself on the armrest of the couch. A litany of oh gods and yes, yes yes echoed through the air, nothing but breathy chants and strangled moans. Lucifer's own muted groans and whimpers were the icing on the metaphorical cake of cumming on his face. It was a shame she couldn't see said face, but having it between her thighs was a close second. Decidedly riding his face as if it were a mechanical bull, she looked over her shoulder to objectify what she could see of him. She could see the muscles along his stomach tensing and relaxing as his hips rolled into the air, minutely, but enough to be obviously searching for friction. He looked fucking amazing, fucking wonderful covered in tight black cotton and denim, the thick pipe of his cock straining against the seam of his pants. Keeping herself up with one hand on the armrest, she reached back and palmed at his erection, earning her a lewd cry up inside her.
His mouth stopped moving, undoubtedly open and lax from the relieving friction of her hand, so she roughly grabbed at the bulge and squeezed with enough pressure to get his attention. "Don't fucking stop," she grit through her teeth, enjoying the way he panted and groaned against her wet inner thighs, a mixture of her essence and his saliva, before diving back in. She envisioned the way his face must look, stubble-covered chin and jaw, glistening with their combined fluids, pupils blown, black swallowing rich brown, shapely lips puffy from use. No amount of porn could ever come close to that image in her head. Squeezing his hard cock through his jeans, white-knuckling the armrest, and stilling her hips over him, she imploded in a fantastical supernova; her internal walls collapsing and expanding in a dangerous rhythm.
It rocked her, the sheer force of it, and she was afraid she was going to smother him if he hadn't pressed his hands up against the backs of her thighs, lifting her ever-so-slightly. When her brain was no longer short-circuiting, she found that her desire hadn't dampened at all; her need hadn't been sated, even in the slightest. What she needed was to be filled, to have a heavy, solid cock inside her. God, did she want to sink down on every glorious, thick inch of him and feel of the burn of the stretch for days. When the faculties of movement were available to her, she quickly, forcefully, shifted down, pressing her back into the back of the couch, sliding one leg between Lucifer and the cushions with the other draping over his legs.
When they were face to face, they were both panting, her cheeks flushed and hot. She quickly attacked his mouth, not even sparing a second to make eye contact. The heady flavor of herself on his tongue made her moan deeply into his mouth as her hands roamed all over his clothed body. She trailed the hand not over his cock under his shirt, digging her blunted nails into skin, taught over ridges of muscle. She never wanted something more than she wanted him. It burned, it ached how badly she wanted, and she was going to allow herself to take whatever he put out.
"Take it off," she demanded against his chin, not moving to make the job of shedding his shirt any easier for him. With the speed of light, he reached behind his head and muscled his way out of the material, and she wasted no time putting her lips against his collarbone. She sunk her teeth into the skin below the slightly protruding bone as she raised the hand at his crotch the button of his jeans. His breath hitched in the most erotic way and he lifted his face up to allow her lips to travel up his neck. She could feel the muscles in his lower abdomen tremble as she traced just below the waist of his pants. Sucking at his neck, her fingertips danced around under the band of his underwear, and he continued to writhe under her ministrations, hips undulating in a tantalizing figure-8. That was what broke her.
Without being gentle, she made quick work of his illegally tight jeans, opening up the fly and grabbing a fistful of cock through straining boxer briefs. He slammed his head back against the armrest, a loud thud made it sound like it hurt, but he didn't seem to give a flying fuck. His mouth opened even wider in a silent scream before closing to let his teeth sink into plumb bottom lip. She shifted herself up to be eye-level with him, and at the same time, she shoved his underwear down, tucking the band under his balls to have his hard length fully exposed for her. Her free arm ran under his shoulders and she was able to grab the hair on the back of his head, turning his face towards her. They were so close, noses bumping together, lips brushing accidentally, breath hot and wet between them.
"Oh, fuck," he breathed, forcing his eyes back from viewing the back of his skull to hold her focused stare. He was panting and it was beautiful, hips still moving, trying to fuck his cock in her fist with hungry desperation.
"Yeah, does that feel good?" she asked, her voice higher in pitch, but still soft. He whimpered, a deep, ragged sound, nodding his head frantically as if afraid she might stop. She couldn't help the pleased smirk that pulled at the corners of her mouth and she started stroking him harder, quicker. "You made me cum so fast," she breathed, slightly moaning in the memory of how great his tongue felt inside her, on her clit. "So good for me. I can't wait to ride your cock." She watched his jaw muscles tense with a lewd growl, his entire body rolling beneath her as his lips captured hers in a searing kiss. His mouth opened for her tongue and she plundered the taste of Lucifer and herself in the hot, wet vacuum behind his teeth. He sucked her tongue lightly and she squeezed his cock in return, a pleased noise escaping her throat when he gasped. One of his hands shot down, wrapping around her hand on his cock and making her squeeze even harder. He thrust up into their hands, trying to set the pace and pressure, but that wasn't what she wanted.
Nipping his bottom lip, almost drawing blood, she pushed his hand away, completely abandoning the throbbing member to pin his wrist above his head. He looked shocked for a moment, but her sensual hums of disproval made him melt back down into a pliant puddle beneath her. "All those times you told me I need to take what I want," she teased, squeezing his wrist in a warning to stay put before dragging her hand over the curve of his arm to his chest. "Are you going to let me? Are you going to be good and let me take what I want, Lucifer?"
"Oh, fuck," he groaned, as much an answer as she needed, licking along the hinge of his jaw, rough stubble scratching her tongue. He continued to squirm beneath her like an ocean and she was the ship braving the waters. Shamelessly she eyed his entire form, biting her lip while she explored every inch on display, imagining what she couldn't see.
"Do you have any idea what you look like?" she asked rhetorically, voice raspy from arousal and smooth like honey. His eyes fluttered slightly, his mouth turning in the faintest of smirks, but he did not answer her. "Yes, you do, don't you?" She trailed her hand down his torso, tortuously slow, her fingertips rising and sinking along every swell and dip of his abs until she was tracing the prominent iliac furrow above his hip. "You know exactly how irresistible you look every day, and then you show up here, dressed like that," she continued, a monologue of her confessions, admitting what he did to her. "Like you knew I wouldn't be able to resist." Chloe nipped at the underside of his jaw before swiftly moving to straddle him. His hand clenched above his head, but he kept his arm up and let her place his over arm above him, as well. She held his wrists, keeping her body over his, squeezing her knees around his ribs enough to make him wince slightly.
She searched his dark eyes, taking in every ounce of desperation they bore into her and drinking it down to her soul. Lowering his center over his aching cock, she rubbed her wet flesh along the rigid length, drawing a whimper out of him. Pressing herself down more firmly, riding the line a little too close to pain, she leaned her body over his, her skin melting along his in a languid flow from her lower stomach up to her chest. Her breasts pressed below his chest, flattening down and creating alluring cleavage, she licked a path up to the hollow of this throat. His breath shuddered, hips rolling up frantically, arms straining behind his head, but he stayed put.
"Want to know a secret, Lucifer?" she asked in a whisper, one hand in his hair, the other trailing up his side, over his neck, and towards his mouth to let her fingertips trace his parted lips. He nodded, just barely, looking wrecked already, and she planted a wet kiss to his sternum before continuing. "From the moment I saw you, I knew I wanted you," she breathed against the prickled surface of his goosebump-covered chest. "Deep down I knew I wanted to fuck myself stupid on your cock." She let the k sound pop with her mouth open, looking at his utterly wrecked expression with carnal fascination. His cock twitched against his stomach and he let out a low, strangled groan, wiggling to no avail. "Oh, you like the sound of that?" she taunts, knowing exactly how she's teasing him.
"Please, please, please," he chanted, her fingers staying on his lips as they moved. The flash of wet, pink muscle was just too inviting for her to pass up on, so she sank two fingers into his mouth, past his teeth. He groaned, nodding in desperate approval as he gently bit down on her digits, tongue meeting the pads of her fingertips and softly sucking. She gasped, dripping between her thighs from the wanton display. He was pure sin, all dark hair, dark features, and the unfair way his thick lashes rimmed his eyes to give the appearance of a natural-looking liner. Pouty lips stretched ever-so-slightly by her fingers, and the hot, wet feel of his tongue stroking along the length of them.
"Please, what, Lucifer?" she asked as coyly and as mean as she could. She could tell it was torture for him, every painful second her heat was pressed against him, denying him entrance into the one place they need him to be.
"Take what you want," he groaned, muffled by fingers, but still clear as day. His arms flexed against the armrest of the couch, his back arching her up slightly, making it very apparent what she was being asked, pleaded, to take.
"Just like that, Lucifer?" she questioned, her voice just barely admonishing. She could see the frustration clear on his face, that tick of annoyance when something so wanted was just out of your grip. "You'll be that easy?" Her voice ended in a higher lilt as she shifted her hips again, pulling her fingers out of his mouth slowly, dragging the glistening digits down his lip and over his chin. His bottom lip snapped back up, almost bouncing, and she tilted her chin up, looking down at him, waiting for the right words…
"Just for you," he whispered, his pupils blown but the sincerity was palpable. There was a moment of pause between them as they stared into each other's eyes, allowing a second of recognition and understanding to mingle in their shared air. "You can take anything you want from me." His gaze was heated, his lips parted, breath coming in shallow pants. She could almost feel the rhythmic pulse of his heartbeat through the rigid length pressed against her. His admittance and complete submission broke through the dominating façade she was presenting and let her desire rage through her like a blazing wildfire.
Frantically she reached down between her legs, grabbing hold of his cock and rubbing the head through her folds to coat it in her ample arousal. She stared at him while he stared directly at what she was doing, eyes wide and bottom lip between his teeth. When she paused with the tip pressing against her entrance, his eyes lifted and he wet his lips. It was a signal of 'ready' if she ever saw one. She sank down relatively quickly, not minding the sting of the stretch, white-hot but so fucking good. They moaned in unison; a long, drawn-out, breathy sound made in harmony.
As soon as she was fully seated onto every glorious inch, stretched to a searing limit, she bent down and kissed him roughly. Tongues pressed against the other's length, wet and slippery, tasting the other as if to remember the unique flavor. He made a soft sound into her mouth, almost a whimper, when she started to move her hips in small rotations, keeping him deep inside her. She could feel that dull ache deep within, the pressing against her cervical wall, unpleasant if done improperly. She reveled in it with him, allowing that throb of sensation to keep her grounded and present; to remind her that this was allowed, this was dignified. This was consensual.
There was a part of her that wondered if she should take a moment. Allow herself to appreciate the magnitude of the moment. It was huge. This was something she wasn't sure if she was ever going to have again. Something that ate away at her soul, made her feel guilty for wanting, made her feel weak and vulnerable where she used to feel strong and powerful. Lucifer brought that back. He had a presence that was both dominating and inviting. He wasn't intimidating to her, he simply stood proud and confident, and she respected it more than she would ever admit to him. Now, the confident and collected man lay beneath her; pliant and willing, open and accepting, and the appreciation she felt for him could easily bring tears to her eyes. She swallowed it down. She would not cry with his dick inside her. She would, however, bring them both down in a blaze of heat and lust.
Undulating her hips, she rose up and sank back down, finding a pace that suited her. She brought both hands to the bend of his elbows, gripping the muscle and sinking her blunted nails into skin. She knew it had to bite, just a little, but he didn't seem to care. If anything, he wasn't aware of much else going on besides the feel of her wet heat wrapped around him and his hips pushing into the cushions of the couch with every down-ward motion. It was a hard decision, whether she wanted to taste the desire in his mouth or if she wanted to watch him slowly fall apart. She could feel the muscles along his hips flexing under her from the strain of remaining still, and he was being so good, doing what she wanted him to do. What she really needed him to do. This was for her. She needed the control, she needed the ability to manage the situation, and he had no problem laying his body down for her to plunder. There would be plenty of time, he hoped, for him to be able to worship her in all the ways she deserved.
She sped up her pace, the beginnings of that addicting tingle forming at the apex of her thighs and burning into her lower stomach, spreading like the light from a single candle. She could feel the sheen of sweat along her skin brought on by the heat of arousal, the cool air keeping her nipples hard and sensitive. Every movement made her breasts bounce, a tantalizing display in front of him, and she watched his hooded eyes dart between each breast while he wet his lips. He made eye contact with her quickly, and with a small nod, he lifted his neck up the short distance and licked a line from her ribs to the underside of a firm mound, licking up until he could suck a nipple into his mouth.
She always loved that. Sure, it felt good to have her nipples sucked, but it really felt good to have them sucked and licked while she was being stimulated below the belt. It was like an instant charge to her nether regions, and she could feel the tingling of another orgasm approaching. With one hand propping herself up on the armrest above his head, she used the other to dig into his thick, dark hair and press his face harder into her chest, effectively suffocating him in boobs. He seemed perfectly fine with the potential for death by breast, though, as he continued to eagerly suck and nipple on her pebbled flesh.
"Just keep doing that, Lucifer," she breathed, her hips rolling roughly over his pelvis, every downward drag giving her swollen clit the perfect amount of friction. "I'm going to cum again, and then you get to." She smirked and bit he lip, looking down at him as he growled in want and frustration, the vibrations rippling through the skin still in his mouth. "Bite a little," she ordered, her voice not nearly as stable as she had hoped. He obliged her wishes, gently biting the nub between his teeth and rolling the hardened skin delicately. She cried out, fingers tightening in his tresses as her second orgasm ripped through her entire body. She was quieter this time, only because every muscle in her body clamped down and tightened, forcing the air out of her lungs and any utterance of a sound to be strangled.
Chloe had enough wits about her to feel his hips moving beneath her, trying to help her ride out her bliss while her legs weren't functioning enough to move her own body. Breathing deeply and bending down, she captured his lips with her own, tongue lightly caressing the seam of his lips before pulling back. She lifted her arms to rub her hands along the exposed and straining expanse of his arms, pulling his elbows towards her in invitation to finally touch. He frantically brought his hands to her hips, squeezing the mix of bone, muscle, and tendons and pulling her further down on his length.
"You look fucking incredible like this," he groaned, shifting his feet on the couch, bending his knees to give himself leverage to fuck up into her from the bottom. "All flushed and glowing after taking what you wanted." The haze of her post-orgasmic bliss made her feel heavy, but his unforgiving grip on her hips lifted her just enough to allow him full range to thrust his length all the way in and out. It was an awkward position for him, his tight jeans still snug around his upper thighs, restrictive if not for his superior willpower in blowing through obstacles in the art of Fuck. He was already dangerously close and he didn't care. He was chasing his release like a hound chasing a hare; efficiently, with the speed of a Formula 1 car.
Chloe took the ride, allowing her body to jostle with every thrust, her hands weakly clinging to his chest as he was given the grace to seek what he needed from her. The noises he made continued to be the most erotically beautiful sound-poetry she had ever heard, and she tried to store all of them in her memory for future lonely nights. His string of curses and grisly moans signaled his imminent release, and she was pleased that he came inside her, filling her up in a way no man had in many years. She moaned as she felt his cock turn rigid, pulsing against her inner walls and pumping her full of his release. She loved having it fill her, slide out along her inner thighs; it made her feel sexy, dirty, complete. His labored breathing continued as he pulled her torso down, laying her face on his chest and stroking along her hair with one hand, hot breath puffing and tickling her scalp. She wished she had been paying attention to the rest of his face, but the way his mouth twitched and opened during orgasm was too good a show to devote attention elsewhere.
They lay there, panting and hot, somehow both sticky and slick with a combination of bodily fluids that could hold close-second to that of a hotel room bedspread. The high of the evening wearing off, breath filling lungs easier, and minds slowly coming back to a stark reality out of the fog that great sex could put you in.
"Holy shit," Chloe whispered against his neck, more to herself and the air in the room than to anyone else.
One of Lucifer's hands rubbed lightly up and down her back of its own volition while the other dangled off the side of the couch, fingers brushing the floor. "What the fuck just happened?" he asked more to himself than anything else. She could almost hear the disbelief in his tone, the incredulousness of someone not able to comprehend they just got what they wanted.
"I think we just had sex," she replied, almost as disbelieving as he and without any fucking tact whatsoever. They were back to themselves, mostly, anyways. Neither had moved, or even tried to, and they continued to bask in the post-orgasmic afterglow while their brains tried to comprehend what the actual fuck had just happened. That wine, and whatever he had pre-gamed with…. She would have to look into getting a lifetime supply of that shit.
"Oh, thank fuck," he breathed, sighing in relief and bringing his free arm up over his face. "For a moment I was worried that I had just experienced a fucking wet fever-dream," he sighed again, the hand on her back squeezing her ass just slightly, as if making sure she really was naked on top of him. Chloe chuckled, wiggling her hips a little and planting a soft kiss to his neck. "I feared I was about to wake up, in my bed, ashamed, with my sheet cum-glued to my bits." There was a brief moment of silence before Chloe snorted into laughter, Lucifer following suit after feigning offense.
"So, you finally did it," she stated, once she was able to stop giggling like a twelve-year-old girl. "You finally got me naked."
"Oh, I never had any doubt I would get you naked, Professor," he chimed, throwing on his typical smug face before kissing her forehead affectionately. "I just wasn't sure the means to which I would get you there."
She stuck her tongue out at him, slapping his chest playfully. The heat of his skin and movement of muscle beneath her palm brought fire back to her center, and she slowly peered at him through her lashes. "Shower?" she asked, voice low and sultry.
He raised an eyebrow up at her before running his tongue along the inside of his bottom lip. He rolled his eyes, sighing, as he gently shoved her towards the back of the couch to rearrange himself and start to stand. "Bloody hell, she finally gets a ride and now I'll never get her off me," he sighs into the air, mock exasperation laced in his words, accent thick with spirited energy.
Her mouth fell open wide, surprise and sass clearly expressed on her soft features. "Oh, that's how it is?"
"Can't a man have a few minutes before you attack him again?" he retorted with a smile before bolting up the stairs as quickly as his ridiculously well-fit jeans would allow. Once she was alone, she smiled to herself, face tipping down towards her chest as a blush spread over her cheeks and nose. She was happy. She felt free and alive, and fucked, and she would not let herself feel guilty about it. It was too natural. Too right. She would let that horrifying truth sink in at a later date, when she didn't have 6'3" (191 cm) of well-built man about to get into her shower.
All of that could be dealt with later. It was still playtime.