A Musebox

Without thinking on it, Dean leverages his weight over to one palm, practically toppling his face down onto the sheets, suddenly trying to bury his hand between his legs and make a grab for Lucifer's wrist. Not because he wanted him to stop, but because he wanted him to pick up the pace. Go harder, go faster, do something. Anything to keep his mind from making an appearance. It wasn't like he'd ultimately fantasized about Lucifer taking it easy, no. That had never been his need. He just wanted to forget that he'd ever wanted it in the first place.