betterthanaplan | Lucifer's mansion, Wednesday night

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Lucifer's mansion, Wednesday night

Duke did not have a pineapple this time. Or flowers, for that matter, though he did bring a very nice bottle of wine for Lucifer, which he left in the kitchen for him to find.

Before wandering off through the rest of the mansion, getting more of a feel for the lay of the land, so to speak, and thinking about how to get his brain to accept the place as partially his as well as Lucifer's.

His boyfriend would be happy to hear it didn't involve netting. It . . . might involve an overabundance of plants that were inappropriate to the outside climate. And possibly multiple water features.

Duke didn't tend to do things by halves any more than Lucifer did, okay? He just . . . went about it slightly differently.

When it was time for Date Night to actually begin, though, he made sure to find his way back towards the kitchen. It wouldn't do to be late, after all.

[for him!]

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Duke gasped, thinking about Octavia in her leathers. About feeling snug and contained, even when things were falling apart around you.

"Yeah," he said, a bit distant. "That makes sense."

(He was processing it in his own way; he'd work his way around to the 'truly feel it when she moves' bit eventually.)

The distant tone drew a smile out of Lucifer, albeit one more contemplative.

"Comfortable?"

He'd move on to something further under the belt some other day. This was about... finding out what Duke liked.

Duke blinked, then wriggled a little. Feeling the ropes against the sensitive skin along his trunk.

"Yeah," he said. "This is good."

Lucifer let out a soft huff, something pleased in the noise. "And you look gorgeous," he said, his fingers almost reverent against Duke's skin as he traced some pointless pattern on his chest.

Duke closed his eyes, tipping his head back and focusing on everything he was feeling.

He felt . . . prized.

It was a very new, very pleasant feeling.

Lucifer's fingers drew a light path up along Duke's exposed throat.

Then he pulled his hand away. He slipped his phone out of his pocket.

Took a few pictures.

Duke whined a little at the loss of that contact. It took him a few moments to work out what Lucifer was doing, but when he did, he couldn't hold back a smile.

They were going to be beautiful.

Lucifer flipped to one of the pictures he'd taken. He pressed a gentle hand against Duke's chest, and then held the phone up in front of him.

"Look," he murmured.

Duke looked. His smile grew, and he looked at Lucifer again.

"You're an artist."

"When given the right canvas," Lucifer said, mouth curving. He set the phone aside, and slid both of his hands up and down Duke's chest. "How do you feel?"

Duke arched his back a little, stretching his neck.

"Good," he said thoughtfully. "Like . . . contained. If that makes sense?"

"It does."

Octavia said the same about her leathers - though Lucifer wasn't about to go into further detail about it.

His mouth curved further. "Now I'm going to put my mouth on you," he murmured, "And when I'm satisfied with you, I'm going to screw you into the mattress."

He gave the rope a firm tug.

Duke gave a delighted laugh. "Yes," he said. "Please."

And that was exactly what they did, until Duke was gasping and quivering in his bonds, far, far beyond any self-consciousness.

And when that was done, and Duke was a puddle held in place by ropes, Lucifer stretched out beside him on the bed. Not unlike a big cat.

"Mm, well, that worked out."

Duke hummed his agreement. Words would be something he could do again later. He turned his head to press his cheek affectionately against Lucifer's.

"Good?" Lucifer teased.

He didn't expect an answer. He just slid his hand up to caress Duke's cheek,

Duke's second hum had a bit more confirmation in it. As did the firmer nuzzle that came with it.

Lucifer kissed his cheek. Gently.

"I'm going to go clean you up," he murmured. "Give me a moment."

He tried to disturb Duke as little as possible, as he slid out of the bed.

Duke sighed as Lucifer pulled away, but otherwise lay where he'd ended up. Patiently waiting to be taken care of.

(By choice. That was key, wasn't it. He wasn't being useless here, he was giving himself over on purpose.

And it was amazing.)

Lucifer did what he had promised, and he was swift; returning, just a minute later, with a small bowl of warm water, some soap and a washcloth.

He sat down on the bed. Took a moment to look at Duke again, to-- all right-- take another picture. (For Duke's sake, almost more than his own.)

Then he dipped the cloth in the water and brushed it gently against Duke's belly, wiping away the sweat and the rest of the mess left by their time here. He had gotten Duke into this space; he would take advantage of it while he could.

Duke blinked lazily, watching Lucifer move and eventually finding an actual word.

"Beautiful."

The seriousness on Lucifer's face. The care and efficiency with which he moved.

It was absolutely stunning.

Lucifer made a soft, fond noise. "You are," he said, letting the washcloth slip between Duke's thighs.

He took great care there, too. "So gorgeous."

Duke arched a little into that touch. He was too sensitive to want to go much farther than cleaning up at this point, but he was too tactile not to enjoy every touch he could get.

"You," he said. "You're in your element."

"I do love giving people what they desire," Lucifer murmured.

He took the washcloth away. Dipped it in the bowl, gently cleaning it off.

"It's like your love language," Duke said. "You know, if love languages weren't a load of bull."

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