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[mycursedface]

Medusa, living as she does in a cave, is still not entirely used this whole having doors business. Nor is she used to knocking, but it wasn't all that long ago that she was living here, so she remembers to knock.

And hope that Sam's in.

And that he isn't...busy.

(she has the invitation in her hand)

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[mycursedface]

His movements are...distracting, to say the least. Her feathers may be gold, but feather-thin and she can still feel his hands running down the undersides of her wings.

Her fingers dig into his shoulder everytime he does.

But it's more his reaction that makes her own breath come short. All he has to do is smile, sometimes, and she turns red - now, he's gasping and moving and clutching at her, all because of her.

Because the way she does this.

And that.

And, what would happen if she did -

Ah.

Must remember that.

And slowly, she speeds it up in time to the movement of his hips.

[necessary_child]

Sam moans her name fiercely, bucking --

-- and pulls together the last of his coherence to look up at her with blazing dark eyes.

"Meda." Voice scratchy and gasping. "Meda, can we? Can we?"

[mycursedface]

Oh.

(she's supposed to be able to breathe, when he's looking at her like that?)

"Uh, we can-we can try?"

[necessary_child]

"Beautiful Meda," Sam whispers, hands tugging as gently as he can remember to be at her thighs, pushing-pulling them apart, slipping clever shaky fingers between them...

"Beautiful, beautiful Meda."

[mycursedface]

And she was going to make life easier and just end up stradling him, easier for that and easier for what he asked, but that...

pleaserightthere

is distracting enough that her balance trips and she ends up falling back against him.

"Bloody. Distracting. Lucifer."

[necessary_child]

Sam only laughs, and pulls her against him.

Softly, "Call it payback, Beautiful."

[mycursedface]

Somehow, she manages to end up back properly on his lap, her legs either side of his and herself mostly balanced - wings apparently help in these situations.

"It seems," she says, attempting not to laugh, "a bit," kiss, "counter," another kiss, "productive."

[necessary_child]

Sam makes a soft, moaning-gasping sound at the feel of her on his lap.

"Fun, though," he manages, and pulls her close.

[mycursedface]

"Distracting."

Medusa kisses him, hard and fast, settling her arm back around his shoulders for support. Because, he asked, and she said they'd try, and you can't try without, you know, trying. Which is why, with some maneuvering, she slides him into her.

(She can't help but gasp, slightly and very unevenly, but it doesn't...hurt. Feels odd, but not anything to pull away from)

"Like this?" She asks, not sure if she wants to watch his face or bury her own against his shoulder.

[necessary_child]

Sam half-gasps, half-growls, arms snaking out to hold her hips, eyes blazing again.

"Like that," he manages breathlessly, voice shaky. "Meda..."

[mycursedface]

"Hey, Luce," the Gorgon says softly, bowing her head a little because her cheeks are flaming red and, somewhere, she doesn't want him to watch her. It's easier, even as she starts to move her hips.

[necessary_child]

Sam swears and moans and gasps in all the languages he knows, but always, every few words, Medusa's name is on his lips. Somewhere, far back in his brain, he's wondering why she's not looking at him, but that part of his brain is not in the pilot's seat right now.

[mycursedface]

Medusa is many things, but one of them is a dancer. She knows how to follow a beat, how to pick up the tempo. She kisses his neck, his jaw, kisses and sucks at his skin (when she's not gasping, that is, because this is what her body wants even if her mind is still slightly distant), and she runs her claws lightly up and down his increasingly slick back.

And even as she does those other things, she rocks and slides her hips against him (and oh does she know how to move her hips).

Sex has a rhythm of its own; it's not that hard to pick it up. Not really.

[necessary_child]

Sam moans her name, over and over, fingers digging into her hips, his own hips bucking and rocking against her.

[mycursedface]

"C'mon, Lucifer" she whispers, then gasps again. "P-please..."

(it's possible that even she couldn't explain what she's asking)

Medusa digs her fingers into his shoulder, but her other hand slides up and into his thick hair. And her fingers might not be particularly gentle, but she still twists herself just enough so that she can catch his mouth and kiss him. Not particularly skillfully, given they are both moving, but she kisses him as deep as she can.

[necessary_child]

Sam kisses her fiercely, arms around her, hips shifting against hers with increasing urgency, increasing need...

Until at last he cries out, muffled against her lips, and bucks hard one last time, and slows to a stop.

[mycursedface]

Which she doesn't think about, not...not really. Her own arousal and desire, which had never peaked to there, slowly starts to even out, even as her fingers gently stroke his hair, his back.

A little shakily, she twists her head away from his (slightly) and takes a breath. Then another, before she kisses his cheek.

[necessary_child]

Sam lies back, eyes closed for the moment, and just - breathes. His fingers trace absently over her back, around the buds of her wings.

[mycursedface]

Medusa shivers at that, moving her hands to trail against his chest as he lies back against the bed.

[necessary_child]

Eventually, as his breathing returns to normal, his eyelids flicker open.

Softly, "Hey, Beautiful."

[mycursedface]

Just as softly,

"Hey, Lucifer."

[necessary_child]

He leans up and kisses her briefly. "Love you."

[mycursedface]

And despite everything crawling around in her head, that makes her smile. She leans down to meet him, kisses him back just as briefly before slipping off.

"I love you, too."

[necessary_child]

One of Sam's long arms reaches out to catch her fingers with the tips of his.

"You all right, Meda?"

[mycursedface]

"Yeah, I'm fine."

She tangles her fingers with his, but doesn't move closer.