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Lucifer actually pauses his thrusts into Dean for the moment to make his next set of actions a little easier. Which is to snap a cockring into existence to fit it snugly at the base of Dean's cock.

Then his hips are snapping forwards just as hard and fast as before, with the added incentive of wanting to make Dean wild with need and ready to beg to be allowed to come if he had his voice.

"Obviously, I don't mind giving you what you want when you aren't being a pain in the ass," Lucifer says in Dean's ear as he thrusts, painting himself as willing to give within reason.

Dean isn't sure he believes that, at least not to its fullest extent: that Lucifer would always be so willing to give, only when Dean's behaving. But right now he doesn't have the mind to question it, can't even bring himself to care enough to. Lucifer had offered up a cockring around his slowly stiffening cock, and Dean only fell deeper into it all.

Rocking with the force of Lucifer's thrusts inside of him, Dean tries to keep from buckling forward any further, not wanting to lose his balance. He's still trying to meet Lucifer's hips when he can, the sound of skin on skin enough to intoxicate. Anything to make himself lose his mind, ignore the guilt for a little bit longer.

Muscles aching, Dean even tries to squeeze himself tighter around Lucifer, to do something else. Dean can't deny the quiet thrill of trying to be the one to please, to prove he can do something more.

Granted, there are definitely limits. Dean should give up all thoughts of being the one to do the fucking now, if he hasn't already. Lucifer isn't that giving.

"There's a good boy," Lucifer murmurs as Dean tightens around him, still snapping his hips forwards. A little positive reinforcement never hurts; it tends to make people more willing to please him when they can expect praise for it.

Despite the fact that it's entirely too patronizing, the reinforcement still works wonders. Dean can't help but feel almost pleased that he's done something right, something inherently pleasurable on his own terms. In the moment, he can't even manage to feel guilt ridden about it, just wanting to give it all up in a way he doesn't have to think about. Offering himself without trying to be just a toy.

Legs slipping wider, Dean can't do much more than take it and trying not to buckle forward against the desk. Trying to remain upright with his trembling is more than hard enough, his shoulders aching, his muscles squeezed tight. Breathing hard, Dean silently groans through gritted teeth, jolted with every thrust.

Lucifer leans further forwards to press Dean against the surface of the desk as he continues taking him, the chain becoming shorter as a result. At this point, Dean would be lucky to get his head half a foot away from the surface.

"Don't worry about things like keeping your balance. Simply focus on pleasing me," Lucifer murmurs with a particularly hard rock of his hips to send pleasure coursing through Dean's system. He hasn't forgotten about getting Dean ramped up and mentally begging to be allowed his relief.

Head bowing further, closing in against the desk, Dean's forehead almost knocks directly into it. Breath ghosting hotter against the top, Dean can't even see straight enough for it to matter, though for a second he pulls back only to find himself stuck fast. It's almost enough to make him panic for a second, halfway expecting to topple forward, but instead he attempts to dig his heels into the floor and shove his hips back.

Which only works to the extent that he's distracted by Lucifer's thrust, trembling as his muscles constrict. He's not sure exactly how he's supposed to please Lucifer, he's got not no clue what else he can possibly do but his wrists twist against their bonds, trying to speak desperate words against his silence.

Continuing to meet Lucifer's thrusts would be a good start. Along with tightening around him. Not to mention letting himself get lost in the feelings Lucifer is giving him instead of feeling guilty about enjoying it or inclined to be difficult.

"That's it. Be an active participant instead of just laying there and taking it." Lucifer comes only a few thrusts later, filling Dean yet again although he keeps snapping his hips forwards to drive himself in.

Dean's trying to be as active as he can muster, not truly knowing any better ways to impress himself on Lucifer. Slamming back against him is hard to manage when he has no leverage but he's damn well trying, practically panting with the effort of it. It's all he can do to keep from shouting in his own head, flustered and overwrought, starting to become too pent up to know what to do with himself.

And though Lucifer finally comes, again, Dean is left squirming after each new thrust, barely managing an attempt to push back and fuck himself on Lucifer's cock. He doesn't have a clue how the angel's managing it, excruciatingly sensitive himself now but wanting it all the more as the moments tick by.

Dean may want to take a look at the fact Lucifer is an angel for how he's managing. Not that Lucifer is ready to come again yet; right now he's just refusing to let up on Dean.

"How long until you beg to be allowed to come, I wonder," Lucifer says as he maintains his inerrant thrusts against Dean's prostate in an effort to push Dean to that edge he's not allowed to actually fall over without Lucifer's say-so. "Yes, yes, you can't beg out loud, but you can beg in your mind."

Except Dean was starting to get exceptionally tired of his own silence. It was making him want to shout that much louder, his voice stopped up somewhere in the back of his throat, threatening to fill his heads with words he couldn't say out loud. Lucifer was still thrusting and Dean was starting to lose his grip, hips crammed harder against the desk as he tried to rut himself to orgasm.

But there was nothing there except the space in front of him, nothing but the absence of any possible friction he could get. Dean desperately didn't want to beg yet but he was falling ever closer, Lucifer beginning to take his ultimate toll.

Dean better get used to the idea of not being able to say anything out loud. That's going to be the case for quite awhile.

Dean being unable to do anything directly to satisfy himself was admittedly part of the allure of bending him over the desk. There's also where it was an effective means of showing dominance due to the way it permits him to restrain Dean for his own use and put him on display at the same time. Two birds with one stone.

Lucifer's hips snap forwards harder, pushing Dean to his limit in an attempt to give him that final push towards begging. The prospect of Dean doing so was exquisite. "Beg for me. You know you want to."

Please.

There it is. And once Dean lets it go, a whole slew of begging follows. It's not as if Dean gets many opportunities to ask for help with any kind of permissible reason. It's always too much, too painful, and Dean's always too damn stubborn to give himself over to vulnerability. And yet he can't help himself this time, Dean crashing into desperation, muscles clenching painfully tight as he tries to coax himself into spilling over.

He knows Lucifer wants to hear it as badly as he wants to say it, doing everything he can to provide the kind of pleading no one ever expects from him. But it's all he can manage to think through now, needing to come badly enough that it hurts.

Lucifer listens to Dean beg for a minute, savoring the experience. It's not often someone manages to get this sort of reaction out of him. Best to enjoy it while it's happening. Eventually though, he does take pity.

"Since you asked so nicely," he says, snapping his fingers and freeing Dean of the cockring. "Come."

It doesn't happen instantaneously - it takes a few slams of his hips back towards Lucifer's for Dean to really spurn himself on. Until it's all over. His orgsm hits him agonizingly hard, coming with all that he has left across the top of the table. If he'd been able to make noise, it would've been a desperate groan, aching. But it's left rattling around inside his head, his hips still jerking with the aftershocks of climax, even as the rest of him goes limp.

Lucifer's hips snap forwards a few more times before he comes in Dean yet again. Then he slows to a stop and gives Dean time to piece his brain back together as he evaluates how exhausted he was.

Except Dean doesn't exactly want to piece his brain back together. He's not sure there's anything but guilt to be found there, and he's not entirely sure he can take it in Lucier's presence.

Head still dropped down, hovering just barely above the desk, Dean tries to wrench it up once more, chains clinking as he attempts to siphon blood back to his brain. All it does is make him feel like he's spinning, still breathing hard, trying to move his feet back together as close as they can go. All that's left is the dwindling desire of the moment, the fact that he can't help but face how badly he wanted this. But that doesn't mean he has to like feeling vulnerable now that it's quiet.

"I think you may need a rest," Lucifer says quietly in order to make Dean need to focus his attention on him. "Real rest, not time spent on your knees again."

Not that it isn't tempting to see if Dean would behave better during the second go-round with the memory of the first time still fresh in his mind.

Dean almost jerks up all over again, caught off guard by his own sudden need to turn and look Lucifer in the eye. A rest? He's not entirely sure what that truly means - if Lucifer's going to let him sleep, if he's going to knock him out while he looms over him the way Cas does, or if he's about to leave and return months from now, like he said earlier. Dean can't read the answer to it in Lucifer's tone, not trying to wish for any particular outcome with the hopes that he'll earn it.

But he can fully agree with the fact that he'd like a break. Even if he's not entirely sure that he's capable of sleep.

Lucifer straightens so he's not partly laying on Dean, lightly running his fingers along Dean's spine to make him shiver before pressing his thumb on the back of Dean's shoulder-blade. It doesn't feel anything but cool at first before it gradually becomes uncomfortably warm as Lucifer pours in some of his Grace to leave his mark on Dean for the dual purposes of claiming him as his and to counter the writing Castiel left on Dean's ribs enough to be able to find him. He wants Dean to have than permanent reminder of what he's agreed to.

Then he moves back enough to pull out of Dean, getting cleaned off in an instant and taking a moment to enjoy the view and commit it to memory to last him the next few months.

With the weight of Lucifer removed, Dean finds himself breathing a touch easier, lungs filling desperately to try and return to himself. Not that he exactly wants to, but Lucifer's touch lingers long enough for him to forget for another flickering second, shivering, unable to stop it. But it's the press to his back that leaves him confused, at least until it starts to burn somewhere deep. Dean figures he should've guessed he'd ended up marked by this in a whole different way then simply stained with Lucifer's come. No, the angel has to be able to find him again, and easily. Dean tries to squirm for a second but gives up the fight within seconds, too exhausted to know he'd get anywhere.

And then Lucier steps back and away and Dean slowly remembers how to feel exposed, wishing he could stand upright and keep Lucifer's eyes off him for mere seconds. But there's nothing he can do, nowhere he can move - Lucifer can just take the image with him and leave nothing to waste.

Lucifer waits to release Dean longer than strictly necessary, not above letting Dean worry that he was going to be left as he was for Sam to find. But then, after what has to be an agonizing eternity for Dean, Lucifer snaps his fingers to remove the chains that kept him attached to the desk although leaving the collar and cuffs where they were along with leaving the chain for the cuffs on Dean's wrists intact. "Come here and kneel."

Dean had almost begun to panic. It's not like he could easily see over his shoulder as to whether or not Lucifer was still there, and being left in this position? Not his idea of a good time. Not when he'd have way too much explaining to do in order to get out.

But with a snap of Lucifer's fingers, Dean is almost immediately standing bolt upright, his back aching. There's finally a reprieve, and with it, Dean expects Lucifer's departure, and his so called rest to come with it. And yet he's still wrong, Lucifer demanding more, leaving Dean to linger until he cracks all over again, glancing sideways first to stare a hole in the wall. Slowly walking his way over, Dean places himself carefully in front of Lucifer before dropping down to one knee and waiting.

"It won't hurt you to be on both knees," Lucifer chides as he threads his fingers in Dean's hair while waiting for him to comply. Even so, he's pleased that Dean cooperated. True, it took him a moment to do so, but in the end, he did without any further prompting.

No, it won't. Though, Dean can't help but enjoy the hands in his hair. But in increments, Dean is still trying to hold on to glimpses of his dignity. Even if it's shot away just as quickly as Dean drops his other knee to the ground. There's nothing he can do but comply at this point, entirely unsure of what to expect now that Lucifer seems to be changing tactics away from a so called rest period.

Lucifer runs his hand over Dean's hair in petting motions as he looks down at him. After a moment he adds a chain to the cuffs on Dean's ankles in case he was to get the bright idea to try to get up.

"Let's go over a few things, shall we? You're now mine, which means I expect obedience. You'll get some lee-way, but it will be extremely limited. Don't press your luck. Also, if I tell you to be at a certain place and time, I expect you to be there. Don't make me come find you. Also, about your voice." He pauses to make sure Dean's paying attention. "You're going to be doing without it for at least the next two months."

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