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The morning sun is rising higher in the sky but Lucio makes no attempt to get out of bed. Some days are meant to be started lazily, are meant to be slow and unhurried. The blond is leaning back against the headboard of the bed, you nestled in between his muscular legs, back pushed against his warm chest. The position is ideal for spoiling you whilst at the same time enjoying just being close, he revels in the feel of your skin against his.
The sighs and whimpers coming from you are like music to his ears, administered by the soft pad of his finger that is leisurely drawing circles on your clit. The pace of his movements is intentionally chosen to draw things out. Lucio doesn’t want to deny you your pleasure but he’ll be damned if doesn’t savour the moment, making the path to your peak a slow but steady one. He has done this many times before now, knows how to read your reactions, knows how to interpret your every moan and shudder and he adjusts his actions as such.
You lean your head back against his shoulder, resisting the urge to grind your ass against his half hard arousal pressing in your back. Lucio wants mornings like this to be all about you, having no expectations except for you to enjoy and relax.
He kisses the soft spot where your jaw meets your neck and you hum in approval. Skilled lips follow the path that leads down to your clavicle, to your shoulder. Barely brushing skin, tender butterfly touches. It makes for a considerable contrast when he suddenly bites down on your shoulder, careful enough not to break the skin but forceful enough to leave a mark. You yelp, both at the sensation of pain and at the jolt of pleasure that courses through your abdomen. You crane your neck to glare at the count with mock annoyance and are greeted by his devilish smirk, emphasized by the popping of his dimples.
“I can’t help it. You are too delicious, my dove,” he gives as a poor excuse, but he does soothe the bite with soft kisses, his fingers on your sweet spot never pausing their movements.
Lucio’s other arm wraps around you from behind, gliding up from your abdomen to cup your breast. The feel of cold and smooth metal brushing against your nipple has you shivering with delight. Your eyes flutter shut when he starts playing with your nipple in earnest, rolling it between his fingers. It satisfies him immensely to hear you moan in answer to his touch. Tension starts to build in your stomach and you both know that you won’t last long anymore. You feel breathless and dizzy, the ability to think slowly being lost as your mind can only concentrate on the sensation of his skillful touch.
“A-ah, Lucio… Please,” you gasp, no longer able to form coherent speech. It only spurs him on, his fingers moving faster, the circles he’s drawing becoming tighter.
He predicts that one day he will get off just on your moans alone. All his life Lucio had desired to be adored, to be admired. To be a god to the common people, trembling on their knees in awe of his magnificence. Now that dream felt empty, silly even. Nothing compared to the satisfaction it gives him to hear his name spilling from your lips like a prayer, drunk on the pleasure he was giving you. The pleasure only he could give you, knowing your body so intimately well.
Every gasp, every whimpering moan of his name tells him that you’re climbing closer to your peak. Your hands are grasping his thighs, trying to ground yourself on his presence. Your legs are trembling and he hold you close to him, his lips caressing your shoulder.
Lucio doesn’t stop, just goes on and on and on…
Stars burst in front of your eyes when your orgasm washes over you, your whole body tensing and shaking. Your cries of pleasure only cease after Lucio guides you through your high, steadily bringing you down again into his waiting arms.
“Good morning, dove,” he murmurs, smiling. A good morning, indeed.