[He does get a feel, as much as time will allow, palms and fingers exploring the curves of her hips, the lace of her underwear, the smooth skin of her buttocks, the sheen of silk at her thighs, intent to give a suspender a cheeky flick and yet not even getting close to succeeding.
She's got his arm before he can do anything else, his mind barely able to process what the hell is going on before he finds himself face down in the sheets, a muffled noise of surprise at the soft impact, soon trailing off into a purr as her hands wander and her hips grind. Winger couldn't have countered that move even if he'd tried, she was fast and nimble and surprisingly strong, and he's slow and bulky and entirely untrained, but he's fine with that. Fine with being thrown on the bed, even if it does have her thrusting against him.]
Ho-ly crap. [Still muffled until he finally turns his head to the side, cheek pressed into the bed as he tries to see her from the corner of his eye.] That was awesome. A-grade ass kicking. If that's what I get for being bad, I'm not sure I'd survive the rewards for good.
[Shifting just slightly underneath her, taking the weight away from his twisted arm as much as possible to avoid too much discomfort. He can deal with the grinding and hip jerking, and he can especially deal with the hands on his ass. He can, after all, appreciate any woman capable of kicking ass.]
[ Lucifer smiled handsomely at the compliment, tilting her face over to one side so that she could actually let Jeff see it. ]
The rewards for being good would blow your pretty little mind.
[ She released her hold on his arm, but only so that she could reach for the collar of his shirt and pull the whole kit and caboodle off him. The shirt was tossed aside as carelessly as the jacket, and then she was free to bend in close, pressing her pert mouth against the frame of his ribs, just above the height of his elbow--a ticklish spot.
Her hands wandered still, catching her hands in the waistband of his suit pants to push them down to his knees. The underwear was still in place, of course, but she still ground steadily against him, rhythmic and low. ]
Okay. Now hold still. [ Another order, to see how he obeyed, crouching down behind him and catching the bottom of the underpants legs. Down they went, slowly, and her lips followed, first against the curve of his ass, then down the back of his right leg, slowly. ]
[That smile is great. A lot of this is great. Even if he is bent over the bed with a woman rolling her hips into him, it could be worse, right? It's not something he's entirely against, especially not with someone so attractive and so into him, but clawing back a little more control might be something he needs to aim for eventually.
The shirt's off easily and with his arms now free, he brings them to cross under his head, propping it up just slightly and nestling his forehead into the warmth of his own skin. The lips have him huffing out a throaty laugh, soft and far too ticklish of a touch to be legal, but he definitely wasn't going to complain. Especially not as she travels lower, pulls his pants over his hips and has her hands and lips follow the fabric. God, he didn't even care about that ridiculously expensive suit of his right now. That could get dry cleaned. It'd be entirely worth it.]
Mm. [A small content hum at all this attention, all this worship. Because that's what this is, right? A woman's hands against his body like this is just worship of his form. This isn't him obeying but her idolising him, surely.] I feel like I already need to ask you to marry me. Where have you been all my life?
[ But it couldn't be that, right? Worship of false idols is a sin, Jeff. Lucifer would tell him as much, but she was busy. Preoccupied, actually. She gave him one last lick on the thigh, then grazed her teeth against it, adding just enough suction to leave a dark bruise there. Could she really be blamed for wanting him to flinch when he sat, and remember this whole experience for at least a little while longer? Of course not.
She wasn't too rough, because for the moment it helped if Jeff was a little more obedient, a little more blinded by his own desire. She gave the pants one last rough pull, then stepped back, moving across the room. As she walked, she called out: ]
The window of opportunity for you to touch my breasts is closing in five, four, three--
[ Time to see whether Jeff would try and fail to get out of his pants in time, or try and throw himself across the room in them anyway. Either way it would keep him on his toes, and either way make a point about obeying her commands in the first place. "Everything but the tie" had been very explicit, and now he was going to pay for his flaunting the rules. In the meantime, as she strutted, she took off the bra, unclipping it at the front and pushing it back off her shoulders, before turning to see what option Jeff had chosen: ]
[Nothing wrong with a little worship. He did it virtually every day to himself, idolising himself, his body a literal temple as he desperately tried to keep it at an acceptable level of perfection. If women wanted to come visit this temple of his and show their appreciation, who was he to complain? Let them enjoy their time, let them worship, he could accept any and all praise they had to offer.
This? This was the highest form of praise, soft lips at his thighs, even the teeth approved, hissing out a breath as she sucked against the delicate skin there. She was good, better than most already and they'd barely even begun. So how could he be blamed for wanting to grab a little more?
As the count down begins, he makes his move, pushing himself up straight with an easy push-up, spinning on the spot and making a dash for her-- except he'd already forgotten about the suit pants pooled at his ankles, the ultimate shackles in halting his progress. He falls to the floor with no grace, thumping hard onto an arm and quickly scrabbling to wrestle out of his tailored bindings. There's no way he can make it in time, but he's not going to stop his attempt just for a simple timer, one leg free and already up on one knee by the time she gets to 'one' and... by God, those breasts are distracting as hell...]
[ Jeff on his knees, pants off, looking up at her with an expression of awe--that's what she's wanted all this time. He's so stubborn, so hard to win over, but a little bit of manipulation and there he goes, right where he belongs, on his knees before her.
Lucifer steps forward, slowly, "dressed" only from the waist down, her pert breasts, abs catching the light. She stood over him, amused, then took another step forward, sliding her fingers right into Jeff's hair, holding him tight as she stepped across him. She pressed her crotch to his face, holding him tight as she ground against him. The scent of her arousal was unmistakeable. ]
Do you like that? You want to be used for my pleasure, don't you, Jeff?
[ She tipped his face up toward her, tugging roughly on his hair. ]
I'm going to ride you. I think it's only fair you do a little something for me first, don't you? [ She released her grip on his hair, slowly. ] No hands.
[He's not entirely sure how he ended up in this position when he had every chance to move, but her approach is so sultry, so alluring that he stays right where he is, on his knees, gaze cast upwards as she looms ever closer. It's not an angle he's used to, being this much lower than someone when he tends to be the one towering above others, but it certainly gives him some amazing views.
As that tight grip in his hair drags him in, he's left huffing a few heavy breaths against the warmth she presents, inhaling sharply as he's pulled back, neck craned up to meet her eyes in his. He could fight against this, of course he could, but what fun is there to be had in doing the same shit he always does when he's being presented with this? If she wants foreplay, he's quite happy to give it, so long as he can claim his own pleasure from it all.]
No hands. [He repeats quietly, almost as a reminder to himself and verbal acceptance of the challenge. Not that he's likely to keep to it for long, but he might as well begin on a good note.
Without further questioning he closes the gap again, nose pressing in against her pubic bone to exhale warmly, jaw dropping just enough for his tongue to lap out, the flat of it pressing wetly against her, even with the lacy fabric between them both. He lingers for a few long seconds before closing off with a light, but nevertheless blunt scrape of his bottom teeth, instead turning his attention to literal lip service, light but well placed movements as he mouths against her covered clitoris, hands already starting to lift to her sides because fuck this, it'd be so much easier without that underwear between them.]
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no subject
She's got his arm before he can do anything else, his mind barely able to process what the hell is going on before he finds himself face down in the sheets, a muffled noise of surprise at the soft impact, soon trailing off into a purr as her hands wander and her hips grind. Winger couldn't have countered that move even if he'd tried, she was fast and nimble and surprisingly strong, and he's slow and bulky and entirely untrained, but he's fine with that. Fine with being thrown on the bed, even if it does have her thrusting against him.]
Ho-ly crap. [Still muffled until he finally turns his head to the side, cheek pressed into the bed as he tries to see her from the corner of his eye.] That was awesome. A-grade ass kicking. If that's what I get for being bad, I'm not sure I'd survive the rewards for good.
[Shifting just slightly underneath her, taking the weight away from his twisted arm as much as possible to avoid too much discomfort. He can deal with the grinding and hip jerking, and he can especially deal with the hands on his ass. He can, after all, appreciate any woman capable of kicking ass.]
no subject
The rewards for being good would blow your pretty little mind.
[ She released her hold on his arm, but only so that she could reach for the collar of his shirt and pull the whole kit and caboodle off him. The shirt was tossed aside as carelessly as the jacket, and then she was free to bend in close, pressing her pert mouth against the frame of his ribs, just above the height of his elbow--a ticklish spot.
Her hands wandered still, catching her hands in the waistband of his suit pants to push them down to his knees. The underwear was still in place, of course, but she still ground steadily against him, rhythmic and low. ]
Okay. Now hold still. [ Another order, to see how he obeyed, crouching down behind him and catching the bottom of the underpants legs. Down they went, slowly, and her lips followed, first against the curve of his ass, then down the back of his right leg, slowly. ]
no subject
The shirt's off easily and with his arms now free, he brings them to cross under his head, propping it up just slightly and nestling his forehead into the warmth of his own skin. The lips have him huffing out a throaty laugh, soft and far too ticklish of a touch to be legal, but he definitely wasn't going to complain. Especially not as she travels lower, pulls his pants over his hips and has her hands and lips follow the fabric. God, he didn't even care about that ridiculously expensive suit of his right now. That could get dry cleaned. It'd be entirely worth it.]
Mm. [A small content hum at all this attention, all this worship. Because that's what this is, right? A woman's hands against his body like this is just worship of his form. This isn't him obeying but her idolising him, surely.] I feel like I already need to ask you to marry me. Where have you been all my life?
no subject
She wasn't too rough, because for the moment it helped if Jeff was a little more obedient, a little more blinded by his own desire. She gave the pants one last rough pull, then stepped back, moving across the room. As she walked, she called out: ]
The window of opportunity for you to touch my breasts is closing in five, four, three--
[ Time to see whether Jeff would try and fail to get out of his pants in time, or try and throw himself across the room in them anyway. Either way it would keep him on his toes, and either way make a point about obeying her commands in the first place. "Everything but the tie" had been very explicit, and now he was going to pay for his flaunting the rules. In the meantime, as she strutted, she took off the bra, unclipping it at the front and pushing it back off her shoulders, before turning to see what option Jeff had chosen: ]
Two, one...
no subject
This? This was the highest form of praise, soft lips at his thighs, even the teeth approved, hissing out a breath as she sucked against the delicate skin there. She was good, better than most already and they'd barely even begun. So how could he be blamed for wanting to grab a little more?
As the count down begins, he makes his move, pushing himself up straight with an easy push-up, spinning on the spot and making a dash for her-- except he'd already forgotten about the suit pants pooled at his ankles, the ultimate shackles in halting his progress. He falls to the floor with no grace, thumping hard onto an arm and quickly scrabbling to wrestle out of his tailored bindings. There's no way he can make it in time, but he's not going to stop his attempt just for a simple timer, one leg free and already up on one knee by the time she gets to 'one' and... by God, those breasts are distracting as hell...]
no subject
Lucifer steps forward, slowly, "dressed" only from the waist down, her pert breasts, abs catching the light. She stood over him, amused, then took another step forward, sliding her fingers right into Jeff's hair, holding him tight as she stepped across him. She pressed her crotch to his face, holding him tight as she ground against him. The scent of her arousal was unmistakeable. ]
Do you like that? You want to be used for my pleasure, don't you, Jeff?
[ She tipped his face up toward her, tugging roughly on his hair. ]
I'm going to ride you. I think it's only fair you do a little something for me first, don't you? [ She released her grip on his hair, slowly. ] No hands.
no subject
As that tight grip in his hair drags him in, he's left huffing a few heavy breaths against the warmth she presents, inhaling sharply as he's pulled back, neck craned up to meet her eyes in his. He could fight against this, of course he could, but what fun is there to be had in doing the same shit he always does when he's being presented with this? If she wants foreplay, he's quite happy to give it, so long as he can claim his own pleasure from it all.]
No hands. [He repeats quietly, almost as a reminder to himself and verbal acceptance of the challenge. Not that he's likely to keep to it for long, but he might as well begin on a good note.
Without further questioning he closes the gap again, nose pressing in against her pubic bone to exhale warmly, jaw dropping just enough for his tongue to lap out, the flat of it pressing wetly against her, even with the lacy fabric between them both. He lingers for a few long seconds before closing off with a light, but nevertheless blunt scrape of his bottom teeth, instead turning his attention to literal lip service, light but well placed movements as he mouths against her covered clitoris, hands already starting to lift to her sides because fuck this, it'd be so much easier without that underwear between them.]