Chapter Text
Lucifer’s golden hair is silky soft after being washed and dried, long bangs fall over his face like airy curtains as his middle part hasn’t settled yet. Homare combs through the locks with both of her hands, his eyes are closed as she does so, relishing in her dull nails raking over his scalp.
“Are you feeling any better?” she asks.
“Just a little more, Homare.” His hands find her waist and fingers slip past her black shirt. The jacket and mantle has already been discarded. Lucifer himself is only wearing an open robe. There’s a pillow under his knees that he stands on. Even sitting on his heels, he reaches up to her chest, where he’s resting his cheek.
“Let’s get you to bed.”
“No, not yet.” He looks up at her past his eyelashes. “Are you not warm in those clothes?”
“I’m a little cold, actually.” The corners of her mouth tilt up. “Would you warm me up, sir?” The nails on his scalp feel heavenly, scritching and scratching him gingerly. He lets out a low groan, eyes fluttering shut, tail thumping against the white floor, then he moves his hands up, pulling her shirt up and exposing her stomach. He tugs her bra up by his teeth, freeing her tits with a light bounce, then swirling his tongue over her nipples, feeling them stiffen to his wet touch and the cold air. Homare lets out an amused hum and rewards him by petting his hair more.
The hands move down. They slide beneath the waistband of Homare’s trousers and slip them down to her knees, where the boots prevent them from going any further. Pungent smells of arousal hit his sensitive nose and his eyes dart to her trimmed bush.
“Now, how are you going to warm me up?” she muses. “Getting on all fours for me?” Ignoring her, knowing she’s raising her brow without even looking up, Lucifer follows her suggestion and leans down until his palms are on the floor. He crooks his neck up and licks through her folds, spreading them apart. The tip of his tongue detects her clit and he hears her breath stutter. The grip on his hair tightens and she thrusts her hips forward, rutting against his face. “Yeah? You like the taste?”
“Mhh,” not bothering to fight her hands, he follows her lead, allowing her to get off on his tongue. He must slump his back and shoulders, shrinking into himself to get comfortable, settling in a bestial position. It’d be humiliating were it not for how the musky, thick juices coats his tongue and rids his mind of all higher thought. His entire world shrinks to the drop of slick trailing down his chin. Homare’s palm is put on his forehead when she decides she’s had enough. Looking up he sees her cheeks flushed pink.
“Bed now, darling?” she asks, panting. He hasn’t the thought capacity to respond, only nodding and getting back up on his knees. Homare places a hand on his shoulder as she tugs her boots and trousers off. She heads towards the bed, tossing off the rest of her clothes while Lucifer waits patiently on the pillow. Once she’s seated on the edge, she curls her finger up. “Here, boy.”
He gets on all fours and crawls.