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This was the first time the hotel had been quiet.
Lucifer had moved in after the re-build. He had told Charlie it was so he could be around more to support her- and it was true. But he worried. Guilt and shame gnawed at his mind, as it had been for a while. He wasn't Hell's greatest dad, he had left Charlie all on her own for almost a decade. She was still so young. To her that must have felt like an eternity. He was staying at the hotel so he could help her. She deserved the world and then some, and he would move mountains and city borders for her. No corner of Hell was safe from her whims if she asked it. But he still worried. Was he doing this for her, or for him?
The halls creaked in the quiet. Lucifer could hear everything through his walls and his bedroom door. Charlie had everyone out for some more team-building exercises. As far as he knew, it was just him and the Radio Demon still in the hotel, and the whole building stood between them. Courtesy of himself, their quarters were as far from each other as possible. Tonight would be a quiet night. And while it was a relief, it was unsettling, too. It had been a few weeks, and there was always some noise coming from somewhere. If it wasn't the sinners drinking and talking, their laughing bubbling up and often growing a smile on Lucifer's own face, it was Alastor's show thrumming the radios to life, or even just Nifty cleaning, or the egg wandering around. Always something.
Lucifer dropped himself into the plush red chair by his fireplace, sinking in with a soft groan. The fire warmed his skin, clad only in a soft sheer robe that soaked in the heat. The sensations of the fabric on him helped him stave off the crueler of his thoughts. It was a pleasant distraction. With a grumble he rubbed his temples, then dragged his fingers to his eyes and pressed gently, massaging just hard enough to see colors blossom beneath his eyelids. How had he let things get this bad? No one would know, but the truth was he was weak. His powers were stiff, rusty, and... He had become afraid of what he could do again. At least when he had Lilith...
His hands dropped to his lap, the claws of his right hand digging into the arm of his left. She always assured him that his instinct was good. That the things he'd wanted, fought for- Fallen for- were GOOD. And that it was worth it because they had each other and their family. They had Charlie. Giving birth to her was the most incredible thing to ever happen to him. It reminded him why he rebelled. The sheer wonder of creating, of bringing things to life, it was overwhelming in the best way. But now... They were estranged. And Lilith was gone. She had left without a word, technically, but they'd fought before. She was exhausted, and it was his fault. Despite all the wonderful things he still had, he was crippled. While his wings regrew, the depression took root. By the time they were back and fully functional, they didn't even feel like his anymore. And when he was honest about it... Lilith changed. Her patience was thinner and thinner. Her desires were more and more demanding. And Lucifer found himself feeling like he could never keep up. The days he made her happy became more and more rare, no matter how hard he tried. He couldn't even blame her for leaving him. Charlie didn't deserve it, but he did. He wasn't the angel Lilith fell for.
Another creak of the walls- this time to his right under the grand window that looked out to his balcony- pulled him back into reality. He took a slow, deep breath and pushed it out even slower between his lips. He was in the hotel, in his robe, in his chair, by the fire. Despite the shaking in his spine, the pinpricks of cold rippling across his shoulders and arms, he told himself he was fine. He thought about letting his wings out, but- no. He could preen another night, when he had the happy sounds of kindred spirits to listen to while he worked. The thought of having them out in the silence felt cramped and vulnerable. He rubbed his arms to chase the chill away and tucked his legs under himself. Maybe he should just go to bed. If he could sleep, he'd teleport to a time when everyone was back home and even if he still couldn't go outside, he could listen until he was ready. He thought about it for a long while, staring out the window into the bleak darkness absently.
With a deep sigh, he readied himself to get up. Wiggling and scrunching his hooves, rubbing his arms a bit harder, and stretching his spine, he thought about what needed to be done before he could crawl into the covers. A list grew in his mind and stretched out into the distance. Daunting, but unavoidable. He stood, ignoring the tired ache in his feet, and headed to his bathroom. He washed his face and brushed his teeth before calling it good enough, running a damp hand through his hair to keep it out of his face. It was still a mess, but what did it matter anyways? Lucifer barely registered walking to his bed, eagerly worming his way in amongst the blankets and pillows, slotting himself perfectly amongst them. The weight of it all was a comfort like no other. His legs were propped up gently at the knees by however many pillows, bunched up blankets tucked him in on either side, and the thickest of the comforters was pulled up all the way to his chin.
He focused on the sensations, knowing that the thoughts from before were lurking just on the edge of his mind. He didn't want to think anymore. Not about that. So he thought about the lovely blankets. The cold had followed him in, but he knew soon his own heat would gather and wrap around him and keep him comfortable throughout the dreamless night. He shivered again, but sighed contently. This was the best thing he could be doing for himself. Sleep was important. Rest would clear his mind. His body was heavy and his mind was slow. His eyes slid closed and the lights winked out without a sound.
A long pause.
The noise of the distant city finally seeped into the room, quiet but the only thing his ears could detect anymore.
This wasn't going to work. His limbs may have been aching and tired, but just below his skin his nerves burned. He was so close to sleep, yet he was restless. He tried rolling onto his side, sliding one leg under the pillows and one over, pulling the tangle of blankets and his robe along with him, but after just a few moments it proved to be useless. He tried his other side and found it feeling just the same before flopping onto his back once more. His legs were spread wider now, his elbows out to the sides while his hands came to rest on his chest. He could feel his heart beating just a little heavier from the tossing and turning. Without thinking, he slipped his hand into his robe and pressed his fingers against his own skin. His ribs here practically just like a human's. His fingers pushed and traced the lines of them, faint but still detectable. His mind raced back to Lilith. She would touch him like this, in the earlier days. She took the lead often back then. And he had welcomed it. He had loved it.
His terrible, traitorous mind brought him back to the first day they had tried having sex. Lucifer had seen the blueprints, knew what the humans looked like, but he had still not dared to be close to them. Not dared to think of them as anything other than... well, Other. So he sat with Lilith, in the perfect garden, and they both realized that he had nothing to offer. Lucifer couldn't help the soft smile as he thought about the awkwardness that ensued. Many things were still new to the both of them, so Lucifer's creation of his own compatible parts took time but wasn't strange. They had shared so many laughs. And then when they fell, it had been like a new kind of flame lit in his heart. They tried new things- they tried everything- and just like that Charlie was made.
One hand crept down and felt along his stomach, long since healed. He allowed it lower, tracing the lines of his hips, but stopped there. They had only done it like that a few times. It wasn't long after Charlie's birth that his state declined the final time, and... He wondered often when exactly Lilith started seeing him differently. He knew he had been a burden... It must have been so tiring for her to assure him constantly. That was probably why she had started demanding that he took control. And he couldn't blame her. So he did what she asked. Or he tried. It apparently wasn't enough. And he hadn't changed his form since. He'd gotten used to the weight. Was it a reminder? He wasn't sure. But he kept the ring, too, so...
He lifted his hand so only the tips of his claws and the bottom of his palm ghosted along his skin, and gently extended his reach to his thigh. He traced up and down, his mind still reeling. He was supposed to be a leader. Lilith had wanted him to lead with her. Wanted him to take charge so that it wasn't all on her. This was all His punishment, after all. His siblings new he hadn't wanted power when he rebelled. He just... He wanted support. He wanted to share his ideas and see them love his creations as much as he did. As much as they all loved the light.
He dug his claws in in an attempt to curb the thoughts, knowing where they were going. He couldn't think about this now. But what could he do? Every direction he turned, the bad thoughts were there. There was always something waiting to drag him even farther down. His own body wasn't safe. This form he kept- it was for her. One that couldn't create life on its own without magic. It was what she wanted.
What was it that he wanted?
The question ground his gears to a halt. He'd obviously searched for things to make him happy. Or feel happier, no matter how briefly. But what did he WANT? What could he do to make himself happy? A finger twitched toward his core, bumping his flaccid cock. He frowned. Should he go back to having nothing? Just for a few days, to see if it helps? But the touch had sent a small thrill through him, and he felt a little more awake. He quickly pulled both of his arms out from under the covers and stared at the canopy above his bed. He shouldn't. What if it just makes him think of Lilith more? What if he makes it so much worse instead of better?
But what if it helped? He was created to be beautiful and wonderful. Could he be those things again? The thought made him shiver. Was he still beautiful? He held his breath, and lifted his hand, fingers pinched ready to snap. Was this stupid? It wasn't that big a deal. He was being dramatic. But it FELT like a big deal. It felt silly.
*Snap*
He returned his hand to the covers, holding very still. His breath was caught in his chest. Transforming was a sensation he rarely had to describe, and it was difficult when he had tried. It was like parts of him were asleep until he moved them. He couldn't feel anything change, he could just feel the change once he moved around. And now he was stalling. He wiggled his hips so slightly that it wouldn't have been visible under the blankets, but sure enough the sensation was strange and a little alarming. It was similar to the feeling of nothing there, but he knew it wasn't the same. He took a deep breath before tucking his arms back under the blankets, and very gingerly traced his fingers over his hip to his crotch, keeping the thin fabric of the robe between his hand and his body. He shivered as sparks shot up his core; he was more sensitive than he thought he'd be. It really had been a long time. With another deep breath, he pursed his lips and closed his eyes, draping his other arm over his face.
Was he really going to do this?
He pressed and spread his fingers, his pointer and pinkie slotting to either side and his middle and ring fingers sliding over the center. They fit perfectly.
This was silly. It was embarrassing-
"Mmph.." He hooked his middle fingers gently and bent his wrist up, pulling his whole arm to add to the pressure. His hips ground in little circles, and he savored the welcoming waves of soft pleasure.
He wanted more.
His hand expertly found its way under the robe, and he wasted no time in spreading himself with his pointer and ring fingers, rubbing the full length of his middle finger up and down, and side to side. His movements were small and uncertainty still clung to him, but this was nice. He exhaled the breath he hadn't realized he was holding and hooked his legs over the pillows that were otherwise in the way, giving himself even more room.
He was mostly dry. He was nervous. Of what? What was he really so scared of? He rested his hand on his hip again for a moment, then set it beside him on the bed. Then he drew it up out of the covers. What was he embarrassed of? His own body? He finally pulled his fingers up to his mouth and placed them in. His eyes slid closed once more as he felt around his own mouth, seeking to gather as much saliva as he could. His tongue was long and soft, the faint bumps of his taste buds an intriguing texture. His fingers were salty- his nerves really had gotten to him. But he didn't mind. His head filled with the sensations and for a moment, he forgot what he was doing. He felt back until his gag reflex twinged, and he held still. He shivered, relaxed, and kept going, swiping his fingers over his tongue again. He withdrew slightly to tangle his tongue between the digits, squishing at it and marveling at how soft and pliant the underside was.
He pulled his fingers out of his open mouth, curling them to minimize how much spit dripped to his face and chest. The air felt cold to the wet fingers, and he quickly stuffed them back into the blankets. Rather unceremoniously, he pushed his two middle fingers slightly past his folds. He could feel how tight his entrance was. Instead of pushing farther, he rubbed small circles and moved his hips up and down. The rhythmic change of pressure felt so perfect, and he choked out a little whine. The pads of his fingers stroked the sides of his inner labia folds, sending shocks of pleasure up his whole body, and then his fingers pressed up into the bottom of his clit.
"Ahh~ fuck," he sighed sweetly, doing it again, and again, and again setting a slow but steady pace. His fingers felt plenty warm now as he slid them down once more, pressing and teasing at his entrance. He was still tight, and still scared.
If only he had someone there to soothe his racing mind.
The thought struck him still. Shame threatened to creep in, but he shoved it aside.
His fingers moved again, and then he locked them in a slight hook, moving his hand instead. Was there a soul in hell that would be patient with him? Gentle? Someone who would stay with him and fuck him until he couldn't move, much less fret about what nonexistent eyes watching him would think? The thought turned him on more than he expected, a blush forming on his cheeks when he teased precum out of himself and spread it around.
He was the King. He could have whatever he wanted. And he wanted someone to slowly tease their slicked finger into him, just barely pushing against the right ring of muscle the way he was doing to himself right now.
'You're doing so well,' they would say. Lucifer panted and bit at his lip, pushing his finger in and out ever so slightly, enough to get him used to the feeling and not so much that it hurt at all. Slowly but surely his finger sank in deeper and deeper with each thrust, and soon he was following it with a second digit. He could hardly organize his thoughts. His mind was flung between the shocking thrills of pleasure flowing through him, the slick heat of his inner walls pressing his fingers from every angle, and how much it turned him on to imagine some sinful soul looming over him telling him he was taking it perfectly. The faceless entity would smile down at him and watch his face as they pushed a third finger in- he moaned in a pleading tone and his legs stiffened, stretching taut. What expression would they see? He picked up the pace, moving his arm at the elbow now, fingers and wrist adding angles and twists to every movement. His other arm finally was removed from over his eyes.
'Let me see your beautiful face, please,' the voice in his fantasy said. 'Keep your arms behind you so I can see everything.' Lucifer obediently arched his back to shove his free arm behind him, sandwiching it between him and the bed. The new arch of his spine changed the angle of his working arm, and he whimpered as he found himself rubbing electrifying circles over his clit, each push and pull building pressure in his core, but he missed the feeling of something inside him. His insides twitched, clenching on nothing, and-
"Nnnnh, ohh, Oh- Oh fuck," Lucifer heard the wet squelch of his desperate clenching, and felt the warm gush of more slick pouring out of him. He needed more. His arm was getting tired, and it was getting hard to think. But he was going to get more. He sat up and snapped the fingers of his other hand, summoning a small, soft rubber dildo. He'd had this one for a long time, but this was going to be the first time he had the courage and determination to use it. He flipped onto his hands and knees, and tugged one of the larger pillows until it was wedged tightly between his legs. With another snap, black satin-y straps circled around the pillow parallel to each other. Between them, perfectly aligned under his dripping cunt, was a satin square with a hole in the middle. He grabbed the dildo from where it floated and stuffed it between the brace and the pillow, yanking the tip through the satin hole until the flared base hit the edges. He paused and stared for a moment, barely breathing. His everything from his skin to his guts prickled with excitement. The dildo was no more than five or six inches long, and probably only a few centimeters wide at the widest. It was simple, and he liked it that way. It was perfect.
"Phew... Okay. Okay, mmphh," Lucifer leaned back, arm trembling as he held the dildo steady and lined himself up. The second he felt the tip push at his soaked entrance, he shivered in excitement and anxiety. What if it hurt? What if he was doing this wrong, or going too fast-
'Please, don't stop. Please. You feel so good,' they would say, looking up at him with desire like no other. Their hands would wrap around his hips and grip him, not forcing him down but holding him close. Like they were desperate to keep him. He lowered himself slightly and felt the tip start to push him open before lifting up again. Maybe he wasn't really ready for this yet...
'It's okay, Sweetheart. Come here.' Lucifer seated himself just behind the dildo, the base of it pressing into his clit. He wiggled his hips and keened, elbows locking and legs pushing him farther into the mind-melting feeling. It slid so easily over his swollen clit, rubbing against his folds and soon he could hear the wet sounds of his precum covering everything. 'You feel- hahhh- you feel so good, my Little Light.' Lucifer found himself grinding against the curves of the dildo with fervor now, pleasure building startlingly fast. He pushed it down to lay flatter against the pillow and sat on it, the resistance from the brace keeping it pressing deliciously into him as he wiggled and bounced, following every jolt of pleasure he could. A silent melody overpowered his mind, guiding his whole being into a rhythm that pushed him toward his building orgasm. He rolled his body back and forth, and wiggled his hips side to side in small circles between bouts of furious grinding. 'Don't stop, please, Lucifer. Don't stop!' And he couldn't. The strain of keeping the pace he had built was part of the game. He couldn't stop, not now, and each thrust in time left him gasping and in suspense for the next one.
"Yes, yes, it's so good, please," he whimpered, and his core burned when his fantasy responded,
'More.'
Lucifer knew exactly how close he was, and he could hardly bear to stop now. But he had to. He had to-
"Oh- OH! OH SHIT, AHHNNNG!" The thought of his fantasy finally fucking into him drove him a step too far, and his orgasm caught him. He fucked down onto the dildo as hard as he could as searing waves of pleasure rolled through him. "Yes, yes! More!" They would fuck him silly and wouldn't stop until he screamed- their hands would claw at him in passionate need and keep him bouncing on their cock- "Ahhnhnghnghnggg," he moaned, whining as the orgasm subsided. He finally slowed, feeling the sweat pricking his skin. He shoved the tangled blankets off his back, leaving only the thin robe haphazardly clinging to him. He wanted more. His whole body was radiating heat and he wanted it inside him.
He raised his hips, feeling cool air rush against his damp thighs. A shiver crawled up his spine as he felt more cum drip from him. He was back in the position from before, one arm holding him up while the other reached to hold the dildo steady. This time, the touch of it sent buzzing shocks through his nerves. He needed it. Now. He lowered himself, legs shaking. It felt like it was never-ending. How was there still more? How much could he take? Worry crept into the edges of his mind.
'Darling, it's okay. You can take it. I know you can.' They sounded like they were trying so hard to hide how much they wanted it. Lucifer could hear the hunger in their voice, but they were waiting for him. He imagined the feeling of their cock eagerly twitching between his fingers, and he stroked it a bit. The tip of the dildo nudged back and forth in him, and he keened at the sudden pleasure. Lucifer lowered himself more, feeling the dildo fill him up. It hadn't looked as big as it felt. 'Go on, Sweetheart, you feel so fucking good on me.' Lucifer imagined they would buck up teasingly, and mimicked the motion. The gentle pumping in and out of him made it even easier to take more in, until finally he felt the top of the pillow against his skin. For an instant it was cool, but the feeling was fleeting as the heat from the rushing of his blood emanated from every inch of him. He pulled his hips up, his lower back bending up and up. The wide head of the dildo rubbed his insides so perfectly, he couldn't wait anymore.
'Can I fuck you, Fledgling? Please, I can see how badly you need it. You're shaking. Let me take care of you.'
"Please, Yes," Lucifer whispered, voice cracking as he dropped himself back onto the imaginary cock. He barely registered his desperate yelp as he set a fast and steady pace, fucking himself like he meant it.
'You've wanted this for so long, Sweetheart. You're already falling apart on my cock, and we've only just started.' Their voice was laced with a teasing chuckle and Lucifer felt his face and neck flush. He was going even harder now, pushing himself up quickly before slamming back down, wet sounds accompanying the electric burning of his nerves. His mind was alight with pleasure, his face screwed tight and lost in it all. He bit his lip at a particularly hard thrust, and repeated the motion when it yanked him into the path to another orgasm.
'Look at this pretty little thing I have fucking himself so perfectly on me,' they'd say, setting the unrelenting pace.
"I- AHH~" Lucifer gasped, choking on his own spit as he felt the tension built through his whole being. He struggled to catch his breath, coughing and moaning in tandem until it turned back into whimpering. "I'm pretty?" He asked, a thrill building at the base of his neck.
'You're the prettiest thing in existence, Little Light.' Their response shot the building shiver down his spine, and it added to the incredible pleasure rocking his mind. 'You're so beautiful, so, so, So P-Pretty for me, you're so- ahh~ pretty-' their voice wavered as their own closeness seeped in. The sound of how good they were feeling- because of Lucifer- it made his grace sing.
"Do I make you feel good?" Lucifer panted, the words gushing out of him before he had to pant to catch his breath again. His chest was tight as it heaved, his arms and legs shook with every movement, but he fucked himself with the pace that had been set and keened as the peak approached again. Everything felt good, and in his mind he was being watched with a desire that burned hotter than Hell's wrath.
'So good, fuck, you're so pretty bouncing on me- ahhnn, you're so good- don't stop- just like that!' They would dig their claws into his skin now, frantically pulling at him to keep going, and Lucifer was helpless to do anything else. 'Look at your gorgeous cunt, clinging to me so desperately- Hnnngg, you're so wet and needy and beautiful, so perfect and pretty, ohh, oh fuck, Lucifer, Lucifer! I'm- Ohhhhhh fuck I'm- I'm close,' Lucifer kept going, never having wanted something as badly as he wanted to make his fantasy feel good, so good, too good to stop themselves from shooting their cum in him.
"I'm almost- I'm- ahhngg," Lucifer was barely coherent, all his energy going to fucking himself on their cock and keeping himself upright, "I'm so close- Haah, too, ohh~" That one small sentence was like a dam breaking, and he found himself babbling uncontrollably.
'How good does your cunt feel, full of me?'
"I feel so good, sososogood, Ah! Fuck, please, plea-e-e-ease," he sobbed, so close he could taste the ecstasy approaching him.
'And?'
"And-" Lucifer blushed madly, "I- I'm so full, your cock in my cunt feels so- AANNNNGG!!" A scream tore through him as his insides twitched, clenching and nearly stunning Lucifer with the white hot pleasure. Any embarrassment he felt referring to himself like that burned up into desire.
'You can take it, Feather. You're so good,' the pace didn't slow, Lucifer didn't get any reprieve as he writhed and approached the very edge alarmingly fast. 'Do you know how you look, Fledgling?'
"I- I'M- I'M PRETT- PRETTY, I'M PRETTY," Lucifer blubbered, hardly breathing between gasps and moans and cries. His body tensed, and then it was too late. "I'M CUMING, I'M CUMING! OH MY-" He ran out of time, and screamed.
'That's it, don't stop. I'm not done with you yet, Beautiful,' they'd say, and the erratic fucking didn't stop. Hot tears rolled down Lucifer's face as he came, and he kept cuming, unable to do anything but shake apart. 'I'm going to fuck you until those pretty eyes roll back into your perfect skull,' they'd promise. Lucifer wanted to beg, but he couldn't even manage that. The only thing he could do was sob and let his head bob up and down with each thrust. Overstimulation seared his nerves, and it was so good he lost his mind. Nothing mattered but them fucking him, taking what they wanted and giving him what he'd needed all along. He needed them to cum with him.
'Oh FUCK, LUCIFER- JUST LIKE THAT! PERFECT LIKE THAT, OH FUCK,' they'd tense under him, hardly able to contain themselves- hunting down their orgasm in each thrust- ruthlessly digging it out of him with their aching cock- 'CAN I CUM IN YOUR PRETTY CUNT?! PLEASE BABY, IF YOU KEEP GOING I'M-' they'd choke on their own words, because Lucifer wouldn't stop.
"I NEED IT, I NEED IT, GIMMIE- OHHH GIVE IT- YYESS" Lucifer's world shuddered as the silent scream pried his jaw open and sucked all the air out of him. He shook, unable to move, each twitch of his guts igniting new hellfire in his nerves. His whole body seized. His fantasy's face contorted in unfathomable pleasure as they sank their cock as deep as it would go, pumping hot cum into him. "Yes, fuck, yessss," Lucifer could practically feel it. He stayed like that, trembling and sweating, and didn't move until he found himself flopping over, half conscious. He felt an incomprehensible mess slide out of him as he found his way onto his back, trying and failing to untangle his feet from the blankets. His heart was racing, but the pure bliss coursing through him made the sound satisfyingly pleasant. He stared up to the canopy for who-knew how long- he was drifting in a sea of buzzing static and relief- and then a sly whimsy crossed his mind. With a tired flourish and a snap of his fingers, a gorgeous mirror hung itself above him, framed perfectly by the canopy behind it.
"Holy shit..." his voice was shaky and his heart stuttered when he saw what he looked like. His hair splayed out in all directions, his robe clung to his skin in some places and was flung haphazardly in others, his legs were visibly shaking, and everything was damp. His cheeks and eyelashes were shining from tears that now felt refreshingly cool. At some point his eyes had turned red and his horns had sprouted, though not to their fullest. His chest was thumping, his breathing steady but deep. He looked ravished, and it made him flush. He stared. When was the last time he dared to look at himself for this long?
"Am I... Beautiful?" The bright orange blush across his face only made him more embarrassed. But something felt different, deep down. He felt... Happier. No, it wasn't embarrassment, it was more like bashfulness.
"I am beautiful."