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Alastor looks awful.
Of course, he always looks a bit… well, ghoulish, due to his occupation as a demon. Death had bestowed a sickly pallor to Alastor’s skin, and his eyes are always just a bit too wide, his expression just a bit too crazed.
So really, Lucifer is quite used to seeing his lover look far from the healthier side of things.
But this- this is different.
Alastor’s usually impeccable appearance is skewed by disheveled hair and a rumbled suit. His expression, so usually full of life, is dulled and muted, his eyes empty and tired. Even the smile he has plastered on his face seems worn thin.
Lucifer notes this all from his place on his chair beside the fire, a long day of his own leading him to unwind before the warm blaze, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the topmost buttons of his shirt undone.
He’d been preparing to head off to bed in only a few moments- and had just about accepted that Alastor would not be returning for the night, when suddenly, demon had materialized in the middle of their shared bedroom.
“You look awful Al.” No point sugar coating it. Besides, Alastor hates skirting around the point.
“Hm, well. We can’t all always look our best, now can we?” Alastor says, though his tone lacks its usual bounce. “Not very sustainable, if you asked me.”
He glances over Lucifer at his words, and Lucifer can’t tell if it was a compliment or a slight. Probably both, knowing Alastor.
Lucifer sighs, deciding not to comment on it. Not when Alastor is looking so thoroughly put out.
“Do you want to head off to bed? I can’t even remember the last time you actually slept-“
Alastor huffs, ignoring his question as he crosses the room to stand before Lucifer.
“C’mon Al, it’s been too long since you’ve slept.” He braces his hands on the arm rests of his chair, preparing to stand, when suddenly Alastor pushes him back down into the cushion.
He sits with a thump, his brow raising in confusion. “Al?”
Alastor doesn’t reply. Instead, he turns and swiftly seats himself on the floor at Lucifer’s feet, his back pressed against Lucifer’s legs, his head leaning back onto his knees.
Well this is new.
Bewildered, Lucifer looks him over, waiting for Alastor to speak- but the demon remains silent.
“Er- Al? Is everything… ok?”
“Mmm,” is Alastor’s only response, his weight leaning more heavily into Lucifer.
And Lucifer- Lucider doesn’t know what to do.
He doesn’t move much, for starters. He’s terrified of scaring the demon off, of shattering this precious and precarious moment between them, one so very full of trust.
Because Alastor does not do this. He does not initiate touch like this. He does not seek Lucifer out in order to soak in his warmth. The most he’ll do, when they are not being intimate or sleeping, is sit far too close to Lucifer- but even then, there is always a sliver of space between them.
But this…
This is so vulnerable, for demon who so passionately despises letting his guard down. Sitting there at Lucifer’s feet, his head tipped back, his eyes gently shut- he looks small. Powerless. Humble.
Not words Lucifer would ever think to use to describe his lover. And yet, here he sits.
It’s so very unlike him. So very unlike him indeed.
“Is everything ok?” He repeats. Because surely something must be, to render him so needy.
Alastor’s nose crinkles in response. “Piss off.”
But despite his words, he makes no move to leave, instead shifting to make himself more comfortable.
Still, Lucifer can’t help but wonder at what’s gotten Alastor so rumpled, so turned about. What had worn him down enough to seek out shelter from his lover, to go in search of warmth and touch and comfort- things Alastor is seemingly never in need of. Never in want of. It’s always Lucifer who is needing support from his love, not the other way around.
Their relationship is far from a give and take, namely because Alastor never seems to need.
Lucifer is torn from his musings as Alastor shifts his head, his downy hair spilling more properly into Lucifer’s lap. He wonders suddenly at how it would feel to touch- is it as silky as it looks? Above Alastor’s shoulders is always off limits, along with various other places on his form.
But Lucifer wonders if now is an exception. He’s certainly defying most of their norms just now as it is.
Slowly, giving Alastor ample time to either snatch his wrist or to pull away, Lucifer reaches out and brushes a few strands from Alastor’s face.
Alastor doesn’t move. Doesn’t bite his hand as it comes too close to his mouth. Doesn’t snarl or hiss or pull away.
Emboldened, Lucifer tries something else. He dips his fingers into Alastor’s scarlet locks and gently pulls through the strands, the motion soft and careful. Soothing is what he’s going for, if only Alastor will see it that way.
And to his surprise, it appears the radio demon does- because as his ashen fingers slide through the strands of his hair, Alastor actually seems to melt. A soft hum escapes his lips, his head leaning ever so slightly further back onto Lucifer’s legs.
Lucifer can’t help the grin that finds its way onto his lips, his face aglow with warmth and affection- which Alastor seems to sense through the air, seeing as an ear twitches in annoyance.
But he still isn’t pulling away, so Lucifer doesn’t either. Instead, he brushes through Alastor’s fluffy hair, marveling at the softness, at how very akin to fur it feels.
Alastor would never allow this, in any other circumstance. This moment seems stolen, carved out from time, an exception to every known rule Lucifer knows, the walls that Alastor keeps built around himself briefing coming down for this.
Lucifer soaks it all in, not wanting to miss a second of this gentle version of his lover.
As he continues to brush through Alastor’s hair, his finger suddenly snags on a small knot, causing Alastor’s ear flicks again in annoyance, a soft hiss of pain filling the air as he starts to pull his head away.
“Sorry,” Lucifer murmurs, keeping his voice low to avoid scaring Alastor away, to avoid putting sense back into his lover’s head, lest he bolt up and leave him and this fragile moment between them.
Alastor’s ear twitches again, but he relents and leans back into Lucifer. He uses his shoulders to nudge at his knees until Lucifer shifts to part them, Alastor settling back between his legs, his cheek resting on Lucifer’s thigh.
So gentle. So peaceful. So trusting.
Alastor’s eyes close once more. And it’s strange, Lucifer suddenly thinks, just how innocent Alastor looks like this. It’s hard to imagine the form nestled between his legs is capable of such pain and destruction.
Lucifer ponders it as he runs his fingers through Alastor’s hair, massaging at his scalp, careful to not be too rough. As he passes by the joints of his ears, careful not to touch them- Alastor almost ripped him apart when he touched one once during a moment of intimacy, early on in their relationship- Alastor’s body suddenly goes ridged as he sucks in a breath.
Lucifer freezes, certain that Alastor is about to pull away, that Lucifer has just crossed a line so clearly marked in red-
But instead of leaving, instead of turning and sinking his teeth into flesh, Alastor pushes his head back into Lucifer’s hands, in the process causing Lucifer’s hand to brush Alastor’s ear again.
Lucifer holds his breath, not believing what he’s seeing, what Alastor is allowing. He wonders where the current boundary is set, what Alastor is currently ok with- but he knows better than to ask. Alastor hates spelling things like this out, prefers to simply respond in the moment to whatever Lucifer tries.
And so, tentatively, Lucifer reaches out to touch the tip of an ear- and to his surprise, Alastor doesn’t pull away. He runs his fingers down the shape of it, marveling at the velvety feel, noting as Alastor’s mouth grows thin. Taking the hint that the moment to touch has passed when Alastor flicks his ear from his grasp, Lucifer turns his attention back to his head, lighting scratching at his scalp as he works his way up to his ears and-
As he scratches at a place just behind Alastor’s ears, the demon’s body grows ridged once more, a shiver coursing down his spine as a soft sigh leaves his lips. He melts further back into Lucifer, and as Lucifer continues to give attention to the base of his ears, lightly scratching behind them, the demon’s ears grow flat against his head in contentment, his head tilting to provide a better angle.
“I didn’t know you liked having your ears scratched,” Lucifer says with a smile.
“I’ll exterminate you and your entire family if you ever bring it up.”
Lucifer gives a small laugh. “No you wouldn’t, you love Charlie too much to hurt her.”
Alastor huffs, but doesn’t reply, his irritation forgotten as Lucifer scratches at the place behind his ears again.
Lucifer holds in a laugh. Who knew that the easiest way to calm Alastor’s seesawing moods was simply to give him a scratch behind the ears? So many fights could have been avoided if Lucifer had known. So many unfortunate demon’s saved from an untimely death.
Smiling at the thought, he begins to run his fingers through Alastor’s locks again, massaging at his scalp, paying extra attention to the base of his ears, watching as Alastor positively melts.
Before long, it becomes clear that demon has fallen into sleep, so rare as it is for him. His head lolls onto Lucifer’s thigh, his eyes peacefully closed, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Lucifer continues petting him, his soothing and repetitive motions reeking of the feeling in his chest, his warmth and affection bleeding out through his touch.
Alastor turns his head a bit in sleep, the angle looking increasingly uncomfortable, and Lucifer suddenly pauses, looking over at the crackling fire as he contemplates the likely hood of being torn to shreds for what he’s considering doing.
But Alastor looks so peaceful, and he’s so clearly needed sleep- and the angle his head is in is so painfully awkward that Lucifer throws caution to the wind after mere moments of debate. It’s worth the risk, or so he tells himself.
Slowly, so slowly, he leans Alastor’s body forward by just a hair, sliding himself down from his place on his chair so that he sits on the floor behind Alastor, the radio demon’s back nestled against his chest. It’s a bit awkward, with their unfortunate height difference, and Lucifer has just about decided that it was the wrong move, when suddenly Alastor is shifting.
He gives a soft sigh as he shifts himself forward a bit, leaning more heavily onto Lucifer’s back. He turns then to nuzzle his face into the crook of Lucifer’s neck, his breath warm on Lucifer’s skin. His lanky body curls in on itself as he tucks into Lucifer’s embrace, allowing the angel to wrap his arms around his waist, his cheek resting atop Alastor’s head, his knees bracketing either side of him.
The demon shifts again, adjusting himself to get comfortable.
“You stopped petting.”
Lucifer hadn’t even realized the demon was fully awake.
“Sorry,” Lucifer replies, quickly resuming his gentle touches. Alastor gives a small hum of pleasure.
Despite being on the floor, Lucifer can’t help feeling immensely comfortable, with the warmth of the fire so close, with the weight of his lover in his lap.
A fond smile grows on Lucifer’s face, his chest feeling far too small to contain the multitude of feelings that reside within.
“I love you,” Lucifer murmurs, his eyes trained on the fire as it crackles and hisses, his words a feeble attempt at expressing the pounding in his veins.
“Shut up,” Alastor grumbles back, nuzzling his face even closer.
Lucifer’s grin grows, and try as he might to peel it from his face, he soon finds the endeavor to be impossible. And so he lets the expression sit, nestling his cheek into Alastor’s hair, the glow of the fire not the only cause of the warmth on his face.
And as he feels the demon fall into slumber once more, Lucifer can’t help but thank the heavens for casting him out all those centuries ago.
Because had he never fallen, he never would have wound up with Alastor in his embrace.
And what is the splendor of a realm of perfection when compared to the love and affection of a man such as his?