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Dean's fairly sure that was something he had no intention of revealing in the near future. Though really, this took the cake when it came to things he wanted but couldn't rightly express. Because it's about as wrong as it got, about as twisted up and vile. Dean couldn't even imagine this happening again in a way that would imply Dean spilling even more information, giving up things he hadn't ever been willing to tell anyone else. But the way Lucifer said it- needed to tell him, implied that there would be an opportunity for this to happen again. A chance to say it all, even if he wasn't sure he could.

Bowing his head as Lucifer nudged up against the spot inside of him, Dean grit his teeth, eyes squeezed shut against the pleasure that burrowed deeper. It was getting infinitely harder to resist it all, and Dean could do nothing by the time Lucifer lined himself up and thrust inside. Could do nothing but sink into it, arms already shaking while he still tried to hold himself steady.

Lucifer rolls his hips forwards in a middling pace, unerringly hitting the best spot for Dean with each thrust as he leans forwards to lay lightly on Dean's back. Not enough to force him to support both their weight, but enough to make Dean extremely aware he was there.

"Let the way this feels move through you and let go," Lucifer murmurs in Dean's ear as one hand goes under Dean to wrap around Dean's cock to start slow strokes. "You know you want this; allow yourself to enjoy it."

Convincing Dean to give in now will make prying the information he wants out of him easier later, since by then there will be a certain element of why not tell him what he wanted to know.

Oh, it isn't as if Dean isn't fully aware that Lucifer's there. It's impossible to forget, giving up on attempts to blank it out with the the constant thrusts pooling heat insistently in the pit of his stomach. But with Lucifer pressing against his back, gently so, there's no escaping the full surround of him. No backing away from his insistent presence.

The words against his ear don't help matters, or maybe they do - Dean isn't entirely sure. But they certainly dig into his mind deeper, trying to tip his head away but knowing the sentiment is entirely true. If he wanted it so damn bad, why couldn't he give it up. It's not like anyone would know but him. And with Lucifer's fingers curled around his cock, all there is to do is enjoy.

Digging his fingers harder into the sheets, Dean's lips part as he starts to breathe harder, hips rolling into Lucifer's fist, only spurned on by every thrust. Really, at this rate, he couldn't help but want more.

"There you go," Lucifer says, tightening his grip slightly on Dean's cock as he strokes faster, his own hips pistoning forwards faster and harder. "Just enjoy it, don't over-think it."

Time to push Dean closer to the edge and get his hooks in in the process.

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.

Lucifer permits the grab with nothing more than a mild reproof. "Both hands on the bed unless you intend to fall on your face."

His strokes become firmer and faster with his thumb rubbing along the head of Dean's cock as he thrusts in at the highest speed and force Dean could take. "Come."

If Dean could, he's pretty sure he would beg for it. For the right to do something more than take it, even if he knows he isn't allowed. Shoulders quaking, he makes quick with the move, planting both palms back on the bed, shoving his hips back instead to meet Lucifer's thrusts. It's the only thing he can even begin to do with himself, making up for seemingly lost time while his muscles go taut.

There's no hiding from it any longer, Lucifer plowing into him harder and fast until there was nothing left but to follow an order he could resist. Forgetting how to breathe, Dean groans all too silently, just as he comes hard, orgasm causing his hips to jerk towards Lucifer's fist. He can feel himself shaking with the force of it, mind going blank as it courses through his every inch.

Lucifer's own hips snap forwards even as Dean tightens pleasantly around him only a few more times before he buries himself in deep and fills Dean again. His hand strokes Dean a little longer to make sure that Dean gave everything he could. Then he's resting his full weight on top of Dean to see how he handles it as he rocks his hips forwards at random moments.

"Maybe I should restrain you more often, if it'll get these kinds of results."

Despite his own aftershocks, Dean still manages to pay full attention to Lucifer's own orgasm, the sound of skin against skin at the last thrust. There was no escaping it, or the fact that Dean can't shake off the lingering feeling of regret that Lucifer's demands had wrapped themselves to a close.

Still twitching from orgasm, but even more so from Lucifer's insistent strokes, Dean all but bites his tongue to restrain his still silent noises. Little needy breaths puffed with every slow rock of Lucifer's hips, Dean's almost grateful he can't come close to pleading. It had stopped being quite so strange to not be able to speak, his noises pent up somewhere inside of himself. But he still wanted to reply, wanted to say something about what 'more often' really meant. What he was supposed to be expecting from here on out.

Luckily for him that angels can read minds, hmm?

"Surely you don't think this is going to be the only time I'll have you," Lucifer says in response to the questions bouncing around Dean's brain. "At some point--not necessarily tomorrow, or next week, or even a couple months from now--you'll get the itch to call me for more. Because you want this. All of it. Being told what to do, being punished for your stubborn refusal to do what's demanded, and finally giving in."

Even as he talks, his thrusts changes from being at random moments to a steady, slow pace. He's not going to let Dean rest. Not yet.

Dean doesn't want it to be that easy. He doesn't want his mind being pried open and explored, his thoughts read - not when they're quite so shameful. His desire for it to continue, to keep going, for Lucifer to come back and do it all over again is wrong, but it's not like anyone else had ever come close to fulfilling the rough abuse he knew he wanted. Deserved. The reminder for him to comply, the shakedown of his guilty conscious.

He didn't expect for the thrusts to continue, to carry on into something more rhythmic once again - he's sore, aching. But somehow still ready for more. Trying to bury his face away between his arms, Dean knows he's only trying to avoid the fact that he still wants it. Needs it, is terrified of what this will be when Lucifer leaves. And yet his hips still rock with it, another groan blocked by his silence.

Lucifer keeps the pace slow, content to let Dean's need for a faster and harder pace grow. He could do this all night, even if Dean can't. Time to keep Dean from being able to think about anything that wasn't what Lucifer wanted him to.

Lucifer examines the thoughts bubbling up from where Dean's trying to hide them, looking for ideas. And finds one. He plants an image of Dean at the desk with hands cuffed behind himself, new cuffs on his ankles in order to force him to keep his legs spread, and a collar and chain keeping him bent over for Lucifer to do as he pleased with him into Dean's head. "You want this, or something like it, don't you?"

It's entirely unfair. Being pried open and laid out; Dean couldn't stop it even if he wanted to. Who doesn't want their worst fantasies to be explored sooner or later- Dean can't be the only one. And it isn't as if it was something he'd dreamed about, not really. Not that exact image placed inside his mind. Even then, it's still a hugely appealing idea, something he can't deny he's just about bowled over by. Chained up and forced, allowed to feel the way he does without having to blame himself for it.

He doesn't want to say yes but it's blatant despite it all, the word brilliant across his mind. It's not helped by Lucifer's slow pace, intoxicating and distracting all at once. It makes it that much easier to falter, to beg inside his mind, gone hazy with desire for something he couldn't even let himself realize he wanted.

"As I thought," Lucifer says, taking hold of Dean's wrists and leaning back off Dean's back to pull Dean's arms behind himself so the six-inch chain could be replaced. Then he pulls out of Dean, cleaning himself off with a thought even though there's not much point, and gets off the bed.

"Get over to the desk." He doesn't add 'now', giving Dean time to have a moment to refocus before moving.

Dean hadn't exactly thought that it was going to happen now. But a second later he's being pried back off the bed, arms pulled behind his back while he blinks wide. Still entirely overwhelmed by the sudden shift in gears, Dean all but stumbles back off the bed, standing for a good second and staring abruptly at Lucifer. He flashes a look over to the desk and then back again, not putting up a fight about the situation but just looking altogether surprised. He'd started to expect he was just going to be fucked where he was.

Apparently not.

Finally Dean gets with the program, making his way over to the desk situated in the corner of the room. Standing by it, Dean stops, looking back to Lucifer with eyebrows raised, expecting more instructions while his heartbeat picks up to rapid fire in his chest.

Why be predictable? Lucifer has to admit that the look of confusion on Dean' face was pretty entertaining. No need to mention that he wasn't originally intending to fuck Dean at the desk already.

Once Dean finally gets moving again, Lucifer follows him a short distance behind him, giving him the instructed instructions. "Spread your legs and bend over."

Trying to breathe evenly and failing miserably, Dean turns on the spot, pressing his thighs flush up against the desk. It takes him a moment to prepare himself, failing miserably at trying not to think once more. It's hard enough to quash the guilt on a daily basis but this? This takes the cake, Dean trying not to fall under the weight of his shame.

But he wants it. Spreading one foot out wider and then the other, Dean leans over precariously, enough so that it's blatant without unbalancing himself. Clenching his jaw tight, he's already twitching, fingers curling into desperate fists behind his back.

New cuffs like the previous pair appear on Dean's ankles, chaining him in place as his legs are spread a little wider. Then a smooth collar of the same material as the cuffs appears snugly around Dean's neck, its chain keeping Dean attached to the desk where he's bent over.

After Dean's fully in place, Lucifer sends Dean the view he sees of him, spread out and waiting, fresh come trickling down his thighs. "I'm almost tempted to take a picture."

It's not the image that gets him but the words, Dean's reaction to try and snap his head up in concern of Lucifer actually fulfilling that potential. The chain chinks into place loudly and the reverberation of it makes Dean's neck ache, bowing down further instead so as not to wrench his neck out of place. But it's still a nearly terrifying idea: Lucifer having photo evidence of this. Of this failure for him to be anything but twisted.

Huffing a stern breath, Dean shivers for a moment, the warmth of Lucifer's body pressed against his own gone for the time being. It only causes his impatience to flare, the precarious feeling of being watched, explored at a distance. But for reasons he can't explain, it makes his cock ache, shoving his hips harder against the desk.

Lucifer waits a little longer to give Dean more time to get more impatient before walking over to push his way back inside Dean. This time, there's no time given for Dean to adjust as Lucifer starts snapping his hips forwards fast and hard. Dean wanted rough? He's getting it.

Standing there is excrutiating, Dean almost starting to squirm by the time Lucifer finally comes around. There's only so much waiting he can take, so much time spent crammed up anticipatorily inside his head. And then finally Lucifer slots back home inside of him, leaving Dean to nearly cry out if he'd been capable. Instead he just exhales a sharp breath, tensing all over, trying to bow down further and slam his hips back against Lucifer's. He can't help but try to take part, try to force himself into it just as hard - anything but just stand there and take it all.

"Good," Lucifer says in Dean's ear as his hips continue to snap forwards, making sure to hit Dean's prostate on every thrust. Dean's attempts to meet his thrusts was a good sign; one that implied that Dean was maybe ready to admit how much he wanted this a little more easily.

Dean's not sure he wants the praise but the way his body responds to it says otherwise. Trying to keep up with Lucifer's thrusts in his position is nearly impossible but he attempts to work himself back when he can, when he isn't being rattled fully by the pounding of thrusts against his prostate. There's no escaping it, his filling arousal rising up above the lip of the desk, raw and overly sensitive. Staring down at himself only makes him heat that much more, part of him wanting foul words from Lucifer, the rest unsure he can stand it.

"As I said. You want this," Lucifer murmurs in Dean's ear, aware that Dean's well turned on by what's being done to him. "Maybe we should see if you can come again already. Or maybe I should make sure you can't come until given permission to."

In other words, finding another way to restrain Dean; even though with the way he's tied to the desk as Lucifer pounds into him, he's going nowhere fast.

The thought of being forced to hold off, in any manner, is enough for Dean to heat considerably. Ducking his head down and away, Dean tries to resist the temptation to straight up ask for it, as if he hasn't pleaded for enough already. But maybe there's no sense in trying to deny any of it anymore, he just doesn't know. It's too hard to think through what he should be ashamed of and what he can't stand waiting for, what he actually wants to beg for to quell his need for good.

He wants to be held back, wants his release stopped at the very edge until he can't stand it; wants it to hurt. But he's almost thankful he can't even say it, even if it's lingering right there, easy access in the back of his mind.

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