#tsoy

She’s been around him long enough that it’s easy to tune him out.

Except he’s not complaining, and she is decidedly not prepared and far more defenseless against the form of distraction he’s chosen instead.

“Lucifer,” she says, meaning it to come out scolding, but it comes out more as a sigh. She reaches out, putting a hand on his chest, though whether it’s to push him away or pull him closer, she’s not sure. Her head lists to the side, opening herself up for more of the kisses he’s placing on her throat, her concentration wavering dangerously. 

His fingers dig into her hips, pulling her harder back against his chest, trailing his lips up to that spot just under her ear that makes her knees go a little weak. She gasps, melting against him like butter. 

A scream, shrill and horrible, pierces the air, and just like that, Natalie pulls away from him and glances over her shoulder to shoot him a half hearted glare.

“That’s dirty,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest and wiggling in his lap until he loosens his grip on her. He inhales sharply, but Natalie doesn’t notice, returning her attention to the movie.

“If I have to sit here, I have to find some way to entertain myself.”

“Why can’t you appreciate the little things in life?” she asks with a huff. “These movies are fun. You’re just a spoilsport.” 

“These movies all have the same shitty plot, the same shitty acting, and the same shitty graphics.”

“And you have the same shoddy attitude.”

“...Did you just say ‘shoddy’?”

“So what if I did?”

Lucifer sighs, leaning back into the cushions. Natalie, convinced he had been thoroughly scolded, leans back against his chest again, returning her attention to the screen.

She almost doesn’t notice the hands slipping under the hem of her shirt several minutes later, so intent she is to finish out this movie, until she feels the press of his warm skin against hers, his thumbs drawing circles into her hips, pulling her more firmly into his chest. She half turns, ready to tell him to cut it out again, but he takes the opportunity to return his lips to the spot just below her ear.

The words die on her tongue when she feels the flick of his tongue, and she can’t help how her body shudders in response to him or the moan that slips out unbidden. His teeth tug on her earlobe and she clenches her hands in her lap.

“Hey,” she protests, sounding a little breathless. She shifts in his lap again, pushing her shoulder into his chest, and his fingers tighten on her hips with a hiss. Frowning, she turns only her head, trying to tell him to stop — or to keep going. She’s not really sure, when she feels the source of his insistence at her back. 

She makes a little sound that gets caught in her throat, the heat that pools low in her belly familiar now. Lucifer trails kisses along her jaw, his grip remaining firm on her, and Natalie twists around as much as she’s able to catch his lips. Lucifer leans back, and she follows, chasing him with heavy lidded eyes.

He laughs when she groans, reaching out to grab at his chest, her fingers scrabbling over warm, bare skin, trying to find the purchase she needs to pull him closer.

“I thought you wanted to watch the movie,” he says, and Natalie opens her eyes to glare at him.

“Don’t be a jerk.”

“That’s an awfully rude thing to say to someone who was just trying to respect your wishes.”

“Respect my—?!” Natalie turns around so quickly even he looks a little surprised when she settles her thighs around his hips instead of sitting between his as they had previously been. She leans forward until they’re nose to nose, pushing a finger into his chest. “You,” she begins emphatically, and both of his eyebrows shoot up, “are not as funny as you think you are.”

His lips twitch, as if he’s fighting a grin though his face remains remarkably impassive. 

Natalie pouts, and his eyes are drawn to her full mouth. His hands return to her hips, though this time he doesn’t try to hide his intent as he pulls her flush against him, slipping his fingers beneath her shirt and claiming her lips in one motion. 

She doesn’t protest this time, sliding her arms around his neck, barely aware of the suspenseful music that accompanies one of her favorite parts of the movie. Lucifer’s hands skim up her sides, and she shivers, goosebumps trailing in the wake of the featherlight press of his fingertips.

He wastes little time, pushing her shirt up over her ribs, her breasts, until he has to break away from her to pull it over her head. She watches him drop the bundle onto the floor, then casts a worried look at the couch.

“You want to – here?” 

“Why not?” he asks, kissing her throat. “Your dad is at a conference. Your brother’s fall break isn’t until the end of the month.” He works his way down, his lips at her collarbone. Natalie’s breath quickens and he smiles wickedly against her skin, flicking his tongue into the dip. 

He doesn’t have a word to describe the sound she makes, but Christ, does he want to hear it again, and not only to drown out the incessant sound of the first bad movie of many she’s going to want to watch this month. Maybe he should distract her more often and save himself the pain of sitting through them.

Natalie’s fingers curl into the hair at the nape of his neck, and she wriggles closer, until her hips are resting against his. They both gasp, and Natalie drops her head to rest against the back of his. 

“Please,” she moans, though neither of them are sure what it is, exactly, that she’s asking for. 

Lucifer is quick to oblige anyways, reaching around for the clasp of her bra. He fumbles with it with one hand for a minute, then tries with both. Natalie laughs, her breath warm as it ruffles his hair. 

“I would’ve thought you’d be better at it this time,” she teases, and though she can’t see his face, she can imagine his glare.

“I’ve only done this once,” he grumbles, and she cards her fingers through his soft locks as she waits, smiling at the memory. 

“You did a good job,” she tries to reassure him, though she can’t hide the laughter in her voice. He finally gets the three clasps out of their hooks, and looks up at her with a surly expression as her bra sags around her chest.

“You did it.”

“Oh,” she says, biting her lip to hide her grin. “Did I?” She pulls the fabric away from her, dropping it on top of her shirt, and Lucifer’s eyes run over her, slowly. She feels the weight of his gaze as if it were his hand, and her heart picks up its tempo, her humor evaporating like mist against the heat of the look he’s giving her. 

He returns to where he’d left off at her collarbone, his hands cupping her breasts and working the buds into peaks with his thumbs. Natalie moans, pulling her hands from his hair to rest on his shoulders, bracing herself so she can rock against him. She feels his groan in her chest, and it makes her toes curl in her socks. 

His teeth scrape against the tops of her breasts and she arches her back. They’ve only done stuff like this twice, so she thinks it’s just a little ridiculous that her body should respond to him so readily, like her reactions to him have been carved into her muscle memory already. 

When his tongue teases a nipple, she whines, her nails carving crescents into his shoulders as she presses her hips more firmly into his, feeling him against her center. Her thighs tense around his suddenly, and he stills in response. 

“What is it?” he asks, and Natalie whimpers, though this time the sound is desperate. 

“I don’t have — I haven’t gotten any condoms yet,” she says, cursing her own forgetfulness, and feeling her face heat up. Lucifer’s expression smooths out at the confession, though she swears there’s a hint of pink to his cheeks, too, when she looks at him.

“What I have planned doesn’t require condoms,” he admits, and Natalie tilts her head at him. He raises an eyebrow at her expectantly, and the memory of their last unfinished business returns to her in a flash of heat.

“Oh,” she says, though it comes out more as a squeak, and she doesn’t have to see herself to know she’s turned as bright as her hair. She shifts over him, uncomfortably warm now, anticipation making her stomach tighten. “I see.” 

His lips quirk, before he forces them back down, though the sight of a genuine grin from him has her heart skipping a beat. She doesn’t comment on it, however, just scratching at his shoulders.

“You may continue, then.”

He snorts, and she bites the inside of her cheek, but then he lowers his head back to her chest, taking one peaked nipple between his lips. 

Her hands return to his hair, her eyes fluttering as his tongue flicks lightly against the bud, in a silent promise of what’s to come. His teeth scrape over her, and she rocks herself more vehemently against him, desperate for more friction as his ministrations wind her body up as tightly as a coil.

He groans, grabbing her hips and forcing her to be still. She whines, and he pulls away from her to rest his forehead against her chest. 

“Stop,” he says roughly, and she feels his fingers tremble against her skin. Breathing hard, she forces herself to nod.

Get condoms, she tells herself firmly, aching. Tomorrow. 

Lucifer takes another moment to compose himself, and Natalie runs her fingers through his hair, scratching lightly at the base of his neck. She places little butterfly kisses on the top of his head, on his temples, on the tip of his ear. 

When he gets himself back under control, he raises his head to look at her, and his eyes are molten, scalding her with their heat. 

“You’ll be the death of me, girl, I swear,” he mutters, and Natalie wants to laugh, but before she can he’s tipping her backwards until she’s laid out on the couch, and he’s covering her body with his own and stealing her lips. 

She returns his kiss a little too eagerly, pushing herself up on one elbow so quickly she knocks their foreheads together. She hisses quietly, leaning back to touch her fingertips to the tender spot, and Lucifer gives her an exasperated look. 

“Sorry,” she says sheepishly, and Lucifer shakes his head, though she sees the subtle softening in his expression that she’s not entirely sure he’s even aware of. Her stomach flutters for a completely different reason, and she smiles impishly at him, tilting her chin up in an invitation for more.

He kisses her again and she sighs, relaxing back into the cushions and pulling him closer, her hands dancing over his bare skin. He settles between her legs and it’s not the most comfortable position, since he’s so big and the couch so narrow, but she hitches the leg on the outside up on his hip and he catches her thigh, holding her in place.

When he breaks from her mouth to work his way down her chest again, Natalie squirms, pressing herself tighter into the back of the couch to give him more room to move. She digs her heel into the cushion and pushes herself up a little more, until she’s resting against the arm and he has the rest of the space to maneuver. 

He looks up at all her shifting, meeting her eyes as he kisses the top of her stomach. She quivers, tightening again in anticipation, her breaths coming a little quicker as he works his way lower.

She had traded her jeans for something comfier as soon as she had gotten home, so when Lucifer reaches the waistband, there’s no button to undo, no zipper to unzip, but the slow way with which he curls his fingers beneath them and begins to roll them down nearly has her groaning.

“They’re bananas,” she blurts suddenly, before he can make much progress, and he stops, confused.

“What?”

“My pa— my underwear,” she says, feeling a little foolish. “You didn’t like the kittens so I thought I’d warn you.” 

He raises an eyebrow, looking amused. Natalie chews at her bottom lip, and Lucifer shakes his head again.

“I know not to expect much from you in that department,” he says, and though the words should be biting, his delivery has her biting back a grin and kicking out at his shoulder.

“Jerk.”

“Bananas,” he scoffs, and pulls her shorts down to reveal them. She wiggles in her spot, pulling her legs in to shake free of the material. 

“Don’t be jealous,” she teases, unable to help herself, knowing this joke might cost her as her last one had. “I bought these before I realized there was only one banana-shaped thing I want down there.”

He stops again, his fingers stilling on her thighs, his mouth falling open. His brows furrow in some hilarious cross between disgust and fury. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear you don’t want this to happen,” he says, propping himself up on an elbow between her thighs and narrowing his eyes at her. Natalie raises her hands immediately, though she can’t help but giggle helplessly at his reaction.

“No! I want it,” she says, face growing red as she tries to suppress her laughter. “I do. I just— Your face— You make it so easy.” Another round of giggles bursts out of her, though they cut off abruptly with a gasp when he drags his thumb over her center. 

With only the thin fabric of her panties separating them, his touch scorches her. He watches her carefully, his eyes still narrowed, and Natalie reaches down to grasp his wrist.

He does it again and Natalie moans softly, her voice wavering, all traces of humor swept away by the light press of his fingers. He removes his hand and curls his fingers into the waistband, pulling them down, too, leaving her entirely bare before him save for the socks that neither of them care to remove. 

Natalie resists the urge to cover up, like she had the first time and last time he’d seen her like this, meeting his heated gaze. He shifts back, spreading her legs around him, and slips his hand under one calf. He kisses her ankle first, then works his way up the inside of her leg until she’s trembling. 

“Lucifer,” she groans, “please.” 

He eases it over his shoulder as he lowers himself back onto his stomach before her. If she looks closely, she might have seen the pink tinging his cheeks, but she’s much too distracted to notice. 

She feels his breath against her first, and shivers, throwing an arm over her face to hide how red her own cheeks are. She waits, tense with anticipation, but Lucifer doesn’t make another move.

“Look at me,” he finally says, curling a hand around the thigh on her shoulder and pushing her other leg open wider, until it’s dangling over the side of the couch. Natalie takes a shuddering breath and removes her arm, looking down at him. “You’re the one always talking about communication. You need to tell me what you like.”

Natalie hears the words he doesn’t say. That he’s never done this before, that she needs to help him like he helped her when she’d done this for him. It strikes her again, just how intimate this is, knowing that everything they’ve done has been a first for both of them. 

The words catch in her throat, so she nods instead. Lucifer dips his head, and the first touch of his tongue sends her reeling.

“Oh,” she gasps, her hands scrabbling for something to hold on to. One grabs at the cushions, the other dropping to curl into his hair. “Oh.”

He drags the tip of his tongue up along her slit, and Natalie is more acutely aware of the two sides than she has ever been before. She shudders, already forgetting their agreement, her head falling back with a moan. Her hand clenches in his hair, and she arches at the next sweep, briefly forgetting how to breathe. 

His fingers dig into her thigh, forcing her to raise her head again. 

“Yes,” she says, not knowing what else to tell him, “please.”

Perhaps having learned from her own mistakes in her exploration of him, he doesn’t just lick her in wide, rough strokes. He shifts from longer, lighter touches to shorter, heavier ones. He slips his tongue between her folds experimentally, and Natalie moans softly in response, the fingers clutching the cushions dropping to join the ones in his hair in encouragement. 

When he dips the tip into her entrance, her hips flex involuntarily into it, and she whines, a low, keening noise as her thighs close around his ears. He pushes them back open, repeating the motion in shallow thrusts that have Natalie rocking into him again, her back arching.

“Lucifer,” she sighs, and her fingers close around his horns now, a firmer grip that makes it easier for her to push closer. The warmth that had been building earlier condenses into something hot and molten and pulsing, but it’s a gradual thing, not nearly enough to bring her to the edge she remembers. 

She tugs at his horns, pulling him up slightly, and the sudden absence of his tongue leaves her empty and aching. 

“More.”

He obliges, repeating the same motions he had done first, except this time he ends the stroke with a flick against the bud at the apex of her thighs. Natalie reels, her mouth falling open. 

“There,” she pleads, pulling him closer, “oh, please, th—” she cuts off with another moan when he teases it. The pleasure that had been a slow, crawling thing feels the exact opposite now. It hits her fast and hard, and she yanks on his horns insistently, her back arching off the couch entirely.

He closes his lips over the little nub, sucking on it eagerly, and Natalie feels her voice break when she calls out his name, only distantly aware of her increasing volume. 

She feels a pressure at her entrance, and then one of his fingers is inside of her, thrusting slowly and then picking up to match the urgency with which his mouth is working against her. Her head swims, her vision blurring, and she her mind goes blissfully blank until all she knows is his name and that she’s burning and it’s for him.

Another finger presses into her, joining the first, and she tosses her head back, her toes curling in ecstasy. 

“Yes,” she chokes out, because this is what she wants and she doesn’t want him to stop, not ever. She doesn’t know how else to convey to him that this is all she needs. He had asked her to tell him what she liked and this is it, this is everything, he is everything, and she feels like she’s going to fall off the edge she’s barreling towards and never stop.

But she doesn’t fall. She explodes instead, that heat at her center radiating outward in waves until she feels it in the tips of her fingers and toes, lightheaded from the force. His name rings in her ears, and it’s only after that she realizes she had done that, too, perhaps loud enough to alert the neighbors.

She feels shattered, suspended in a million fragmented pieces, and then Lucifer is pulling her back to her body, his forehead pressed against her shoulder. She didn’t remember him moving to get there, but her arms come up around him anyways, and she holds him until she stops trembling and her breath starts coming easier again. 

Right as she opens her mouth to speak, there’s a scream, and she nearly jumps out of her skin, scrambling up into a sitting position underneath him and forcing him back too. 

But it’s only the movie, the sound fading into the credits, and Natalie remembers what they had been doing before he’d so thoroughly distracted her. 

“We missed the best part!” she complains, shoving at his shoulder, still a little breathless. Lucifer looks both amused and slightly offended. 

“I’d say you just had a much better time than the dead girl,” he drawls, sitting back, and Natalie feels herself flush. He raises an eyebrow at her, and she puffs out her cheeks, standing to gather her clothes and tug them back on. He watches her, and she sticks her tongue out at him before casting the TV a forlorn glance.

“I don’t disagree,” she says, her cheeks growing hotter. “That was… really good.” She glances at him and can’t hide a smile at the way he draws himself up, rather unconsciously, she guesses, with pride. Her heart skips a beat. 

She’ll never say it to his face, but he’s adorable.

“But!” His face drops, and her smile widens wickedly. “The night’s still young. There’s still time to start it again and watch it all the way through this time.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“As a heart attack,” she says solemnly. “I’m not breaking my tradition.”

The face Lucifer makes she couldn’t recreate if she tried, and she laughs, dodging the pillow he throws at her as she makes her way to the bathroom.

“I’m gonna clean up first, but can you get it set up for me?” she asks sweetly, ducking out of the room and laughing again at the string of curses that follows her. 

Disgruntled as he may be, the movie is still ready to go when she returns, and she settles back between his legs contentedly, pulling his arms around her. 

She turns her head to look up at him as the opening credits roll, and leans up to press a kiss to his jaw. 

“Thank you,” she says sincerely, and he looks away, muttering under his breath. She returns her attention to the movie, but there’s no mistaking the press of his lips to the top of her head several minutes later, nor the softly mumbled, “happy birthday, kid.”