whatwas | (no subject)

Lucifer laughs, and offers more of the same punishment; he can feel even the currents of electricity running down her spine to every inch of her body, and he has a nice portion of that devoted to making her need to punch him again.

"You'll lose your voice before I'm even done with you," he taunts.

She'd try again, but her body has locked up in silent convulsions, arched like a bow off the bed.

A tiny, coherent portion of her mind wails for mercy. The rest of her just keens.

Instead of letting her rest he keeps on lazily stroking her, and slides down to use his tongue as well.

"Luce-"

Screaming, hard.

He continues tormenting her for almost an hour, before abruptly rolling them over. After the near-ending, he's in a peculiar mood--devious even for him.

"Surprise me."

She can't. She just shudders, and collapses down against his chest, with a shaky sob. She can't surprise him, she can't do more than twitch.

He laughs softly, arms around her in a way that ensures even if she wanted to move away she couldn't.

"Are you whole?"

Another, deeper sob.

Something like that.

If she were Sam he wouldn't let her recover, but he reins himself in, soothing her toward the next stretch of the evening.

Eventually, Break's body stops trying to wrench itself apart, and she settles down in his arms with a soft sigh.

"We haven't really started yet."

He sounds so happy saying it. After all there is an end goal here.

"Stirrups and a turkey baster."

Break informs him, dazedly. She isn't moving.

That gets an almost-laugh.

"Riding the wave of the future?"

He can be patient, but he's not moving until she does. And neither of them are going anywhere near the door.

"I'm going to have to do all the hard work for this anyways."

She reminds him, poking at his shoulder.

"I could have if you'd asked."

Gender means less than nothing to an angel.

He kisses her, a little smug, a little teasing.

"This part was your idea."

"Be quiet and fuck me."

She orders him, managing to push herself up, sitting upright.

"If I'm quiet you'll just have to make more noise."

But he wastes absolutely no time in pushing up into her.

Break lets out a gratifying yowl, eyes rolling up in her head.

She'll have to deal with him massaging her nerves as he fucks her hard; he likes those sounds, that look on her face.

She has to focus to keep herself on top of him, writhing, riding him and the waves of dizzying pleasure and pain that slide through her.

Break could probably go mad like this.

A small part of Lucifer knows that would really only be a mercy to her. That was, after all, what the fake break up had been about in the end.

But another part of him wants to be utterly irreplaceable, and it's that as much as the need to mend things and have something that's just theirs that keeps him going. He holds her as steady as she can be, leaving light red marks with his nails.

You're like the sea.

She thinks at him, nearly insensate, drowning in him.

The sea--?

It's hard, even for him, to be fully coherent right now.

Mine.

That doesn't really follow. But. She drives herself down hard, with a last wail.

And he follows soon after, holding her tight against him, shuddering. His hand reaches down to trace his name in her foot, making sure it's still there.

You're sure about this?

Not the foot, of course. Everything.