Lucifer

lucifer really regrets this (no he doesn’t).

the bathroom smells of cheap perfume and cigarettes, the shitty ventilator on the ceiling not doing much to help aside from exuding a constant whirring noise.

lucifer had buried his face in your neck a long time ago, inhaling deeply. you smelled much better than the bathroom did- or maybe you smelled the same. he was drunk enough to tip over if he was pushed juuust hard enough.

you weren’t any more sober than him, though. the two of you had met not long ago at the bar just outside the bathroom- maybe it was an hour or maybe it was even longer, he had lost track of time- and he offered to buy you a drink. he wasn’t really sure what caused him to even ask, but you were giving him the okay before he could think too hard.

drinking with you was fun; you were nice, made him laugh, and you were oh so warm. he spent a long time talking to you, his hand ‘accidentally’ brushing past yours, his words ‘accidentally’ coming off a tad too flirtatious. luckily for him it seemed like you were accidentally!doing a lot of things, too.

he’d say it took about five or ten minutes after that before your hand was around his wrist and dragging him away.

it started off small, it really did! he swears on it. he hadn’t meant to get carried away.

it started with a kiss or two, then said kiss or two turned into three, four, and he started to lose count. kisses morphed to hands on bodies and hands on bodies morphed to skin on skin. well, as much skin as you could expose in a club bathroom.

lucifer held you against the wall, one hand under your thighs, the other one bracing himself on the wall as he pushed up into you. he’d occasionally take his hand from the wall and slip it under your shirt, fingers brushing over your stomach and trailing up your chest.

you did a much better job at staying quiet than he did. though, he could tell you were struggling. he felt the way your throat bobbed with each hard swallow, the way you bit on your tongue and the way your head would thunk against the wall when he thrusted just right.

admittedly, his thrusts were sloppy. he was drunk, leave him alone. he kept a manageable pace, though, grunts and moans leaving his lips whenever your hands would tug on his hair or slip under his shirt.

it was much harder to keep quiet than he thought. lucifer’s neck hurt from having been constantly shoved against your neck, lips licking and kissing at your skin to distract himself from how embarrassingly quickly he felt himself get close to coming.

it didn’t help when the balls of your heels pressed into his lower back and only caused him to slip further into you. he thinks he’s doing well- i mean, he’s lasted this long so far.

all of that goes down the drain when your nails rake down his back. the groan he lets out is dirty and his hips stutter. he manages to not come, though, and prides himself on that fact. luckily, you didn’t look too far behind him.

his back was stinging, his head was spinning and he wasn’t sure how quiet he could stay. lucifer was secretly waiting for someone to overhear and he wasn’t sure what he’d do when that happened.

the bathroom was luckily empty, but that just made sounds echo even more. every thrust of his hips up into you made a slick sound echo in the stall and his head spun each time.

you seemed to sense his struggle to keep his voice down and he felt your fingers snake down from his neck to his jaw. even with the slightest tug, he went willingly. your lips were soft and warm and your tongue was rubbing against his and fuck that really didn’t make him any softer.

letting out a pathetic sound into the kiss, his hand tightened its grip on one of your thighs, hoisting you further up the wall. “fuck, fuck,” he manages between kisses, huffing into your mouth, tasting the alcohol on your tongue.

“ah- mmph, hey— m’gonna have to slow— ah, slow down a bit before i-“

being cut off with some more kisses wasn’t too bad. but he swore that if you pulled his hair one more time he’d cream in his pants like a virgin. fortunately, the ventilator helped a little- the constant buzz dulling some of the sounds he made.