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“Aw, come on! Ya telling me this ain’t the most en’ataining shit ya’ve seen all week?” Anthony whispers harshly to the bartender, who seems rather intent on polishing a molten hole straight through a wine glass. Or at least, trying to. “Look at King Lucie- he's squirmin’ in his seat!”
“Right…I still think you’re a dickhead.” Husk replies bluntly. “You shouldn’t be meddling in other people’s..” The former overlord hesitates, as if debating whether the use of his next words are appropriate or not, “love lives.” He concludes, sparing the schadenfreude ridden sinner a disapproving glance before it’s back to polishing, polishing. Angel scoffs.
“Oh come the fuck on now- they need this!” He reasons with a hushed rasp, gesturing what he thinks is discreetly at the apparent needy sinner and seraphim across the room. Who he thinks are none the wiser. “They need me! Someone of my skills, who can give ‘em that little nudge,” He pokes a gloved finger through two others connected by the fingertips on a different hand in lewd emphasis, “that they need!” Husk just grumbles lightly, shaking his head and setting the glass aside before he grabs for a bottle.
“Maybe they do,” The gambler starts as he pops the cork, “but you realize you’re fuckin with the Radio Demon and the goddamn King, both of which could maim your ass in seconds..right?" He inquires, reasonably. Then takes a swig, and then another for good measure. Angel rolls his eyes, holding out his empty glass for a refill, which the barkeep reluctantly indulges.
“Yeah, yeah,” The taller waves a dismissive hand, “You underestimate me, Whiskers. They’ll be thankin' me when it’s ova’- just you watch, baby.” The actor delivers with a playful wink, one which makes the other recoil and swallow more deliberately. And Husk does- watch, that is. Not like he could do much else.
Well, there is one thing.
”You’re cut off, by the way.”
⛧⛧⛧⛧⛧
Fuck this shit.
Lucifer exhales, strained and quiet, shifting uncomfortably on the plush couch cushions. He’s long since abandoned his drink, the half full glass standing harrowingly next to Alastor’s significantly less empty one. Normally they’d be on their second glass by now, fighting to see who can handle the contents better, hurling insults that slowly lose their bite somewhere along the way. Today is different.
Lucifer is hard.
He doesn’t know why, though he has a reasonable guess. Perhaps dancing the fine line of hate and intrigue like they’ve been doing for a while now is finally getting to him. Something in the way Alastor looks at him, dark, scornful eyes becoming hazier and burning brighter with each passing glass, a nightly ritual Lucifer looks forward to far more than he wants to admit.
Alastor keeps Lucifer on his toes. Never loses his composure like most sinners are prone to do. And that scorn, which Lucifer mirrors with ease, is ever present, never fully conceding. That might be the most alluring part of it- of having Alastor’s undivided attention. The unmistakable contempt that makes every part of Lucifer sing with adrenaline. With pride. With undeniable delight.
Sometimes, he swears he can tell that Alastor feels the same, looks forward to playing this game as much as Lucifer does. Pathetic? Maybe. Thrilling as all hell? Fuck yes. He knows very well that he shouldn’t, but he still plays it again, and again, and again-
Ah. Still hard. Not helping.
Lucifer’s eye twitches. He looks over to Alastor- oh damn, when did he get so close? He hadn’t even noticed the man switching seats. Now he’s just one couch away. Lucifer crosses his legs, inconspicuously as possible, swallowing dryly as he tries to survey the demon as normal-fucking-person-esque as he can.
Alastor also has his legs crossed, looking composed as ever. But the more Lucifer strains to hear it, the more apparent the sound of crackling static becomes. Uncharacteristic. Alastor’s breathing is just barely off from its usual rhythm, too. His features are pulled together almost angrily, and there’s something in his glare that Lucifer does not recognize, something that makes him just barely suppress a shiver. Why the hell does this feel so intense?
Alastor meets Lucifer’s stare head on. He cocks his head in the king’s direction, his grin pulling tighter while he regards the blond with a simple “Hm?” and a raised eyebrow.
It should not do to Lucifer what it does.
It’s embarrassing. Frankly humiliating. Getting hard, worked up over literally fucking nothing. He needs to leave, needs to take care of this situation before it gets any worse, to scrape the shame off his inner walls and pretend he’s not imagining Alastor’s hand instead of his own. Fuck, situation getting worse. He clears his throat.
“I uh, think I’m gonna..turn in for the night..” The king says, unable to meet the demon’s calculating eyes for fear of cumming where he sits if he looks into them for too long. He’s about to get up and follow through on his word, but of course, it’s not that easy.
In a flash, Alastor is on the same couch as him, dangerously close to discovering what Lucifer is so desperate to hide. “The night is young, your majesty. Are you certain?” He purrs in that silky tone, that horrible voice of his that makes Lucifer want to bash his head through a wall and be fucked bruisingly into the nearest one at the same time.
Alastor casts a languid glance behind Lucifer, at the duo by the bar before continuing. “You’ve hardly even touched your drink, sir.”
Lucifer wants to fire back that Alastor’s had even less than him, but he doesn’t get the chance. His face is suddenly grabbed by a firm hand, forcing him to look away from the aforementioned drinks and into the demon’s eyes instead. “Are you feeling alright, Lucifer? You’re looking rather unwell.”
Lucifer should slap him. Call him an audacious dickhead for putting his hands on the King of Hell so casually.
He does neither of those things.
Faintly, Lucifer can hear some hushed commotion behind him. He cannot be bothered to give two fucks about it right now. His traitorous cock gives a twitch in his straining slacks, and Lucifer has to physically resist the urge to just bite down on Alastor’s fingers- why? Some kind of retaliation? A way to channel his frustration? To know what they taste like? He’s not quite sure. But the thought makes him scared he might start to drool if this goes on any longer.
“‘m fine, thanks. Just..need some sleep..” He shudders as Alastor’s eyes never leave his own. Even when Lucifer looks astray, dark eyes trace over the angel’s face with such rapt interest, it makes Lucifer squirm. He looks like he wants to say something more. So much more.
“Would you mind if I picked your brain for just a minute or two before you go?” Alastor asks, and it sounds soft, each word drawled meticulously. Lucifer bites back a whine. Why won’t Alastor let go of his face? Why is Lucifer not stopping him? Those are two questions the seraphim cannot seem to answer.
“No, no, sorry..can’t, we’ll do it tomorrow..?” Lucifer pants, forcing himself to meet the overlord’s eyes again. There’s something there he just can’t put his finger on. But it kind of feels…like…
Alastor runs his thumb over Lucifer’s cherry colored cheek, slowly. “Flushed.” He breathes, and Lucifer gasps at the sudden feeling of static dancing over his skin. He can feel himself starting to pre now, and holy fuck he needs to get out of here.
Lucifer stands abruptly, shooing Alastor’s hand away with whatever strength he can muster. “I really have to-” He cuts off with a groan when the consequences catch up to him. Of course there’s the soul gutting feeling of pulling away from Alastor’s touch, but mostly a god awful head rush that roots him in place for a time. When the painful glittering star fall comes to an end, Lucifer blinks down towards the Radio Demon.
Who is looking directly at his tented pants.
Fucking Heaven and Hell .
Lucifer gapes uselessly for a beat, mouth opening and closing around a grand total of zero words while cold anxiety zips down his spine. He swears a flicker of flame escapes past his dumbfounded lips before he is swallowed by fire and shame, making an unceremonious getaway to his tower.
Fuck. Shit, fuckfuckfuck.
Lucifer wheezes so hard it burns between his ribs, a horrified laugh ripping out of him while he tries and fails to calm his raging heart. Raging boner too, actually, but that’s clearly in vain. Seeing as he’s already leaking in his damn pants, he finally starts to put the pieces together.
There had to have been something funky in his drink. It’s the only explanation, assuming he hasn’t lost his fucking mind enough to get rock hard from Alastor just looking at him. Lucifer has more self restraint than that, dammit!
He finds he’s surprisingly calm about the whole thing. No one had tried to force themself on him. No one had jumped out and tried to take pictures, or shame him. At most, this is probably just some lame prank pulled by one of the guests. So, he breathes fairly easy.
In addition, angelic immune system and all, Lucifer isn’t nearly as affected by whatever this is than most would be. Honestly, it’s kind of a nice feeling- the heat buzzing away under his skin. He just hopes he can satiate himself well enough, not let the opportunity go to waste.
He doesn’t care enough to point the finger at anyone for the time being. Right now he needs to fucking cum and get this bullshit over with. He leans back on the door and palms himself through the damp fabric for a bit, bottom lip pulled between his teeth while the friction builds.
“Mm fuck…gotta get my hands on whatever did this to-”
Knock knock knock knock knock, knock knock.
S h i t .
Lucifer knows that obnoxious set of knocks. And he hates how it makes his cock give an excited jump under his palm. Lucifer falls deathly quiet, even holding his breath while adrenaline floods him from head to toe. Surely Alastor had heard him just now, but there’s still hope that he hasn’t, right?
The silence stretches. Dreadfully, agonizingly so.
.
.
“Your majesty.”
“H- WHAT THE —!”
Lucifer whips around at hearing that voice right in his fucking ear, instinctually hurling his fist towards the sound, but Alastor is faster, side stepping and catching the king's wrist with ease. He smiles thinly, an ear flicking downwards in amusement.
“Tense? My apologies dear.” He says, and oh, oh fuck- Alastor’s never called him that before. The angel smothers a whine with a harsh clearing of his throat, ripping his wrist from Alastor's grip and turning to fix the demon with a hard glare, arms crossed.
“I thought you had a thing about being a gentleman. You’d think knocking would be part of that.” Lucifer says, a bit raggedly. He doesn’t bother trying to cover up his tent at this point. Alastor has surely seen. No turning back now.
"But I did, Lucifer. Surely you heard?" Alastor drawls, more than a little amused. His gaze never drops below Lucifer’s waist.
"You know what the fuck I mean." The seraphim huffs, casting his gaze to the floor. Maybe a little sheepishly.
Alastor huffs a laugh through his nose. “Well, pardon the intrusion, sir. Things were a bit dire, you see.” The demon chuckles.
Lucifer feels something snaking up his leg. Tendril. He snarls and moves to counteract it but god fucking damn it- it was only a distraction.
The second Lucifer takes the bait, Alastor pushes him full force until they both crash against the door, the wood rattling something fierce under their combined weight. The king lets out a strangled groan and moves to twist free, which he could do effortlessly. But he doesn’t bother trying when Alastor presses flush against him, diving down and burying into the crook of his neck.
Any sort of verbal retort doesn’t make it past a single syllable, living and dying on the angel’s forked tongue in comically short succession.
Alastor is silent. Lucifer freezes as if magically compelled to do so, not pushing back or pulling closer.
Until he feels it.
“We’re in a similar predicament, you and I. Aren’t we?” The sinner drones against his neck, beginning to pepper kisses there while he presses his sizeable fucking erection to Lucifer’s abdomen.
Holy fucking shit.
Fit for a fucking king.
That’s when the angel presses closer, arching off the wood and tilting his neck against all better judgment with a shuddering sigh. That seems to please Alastor, and he lightly runs his hands down Lucifer’s sides, lazily sliding his tongue over the newly accessible stretch of skin.
“I knew you’d see it my way.” Alastor rasps, and Lucifer knows he is fucking done for. He pulls Alastor back by the antlers, unkind in doing so. Feedback hisses at the same time Alastor does, and he looks a mix between shocked, angry, and apprehensive. Lucifer doesn’t let it last.
“Kiss me.” He demands. The first proper words he’s spoken since Alastor jumped him. “Before I have your fucking cum in my mouth and you won’t want to anymore.”
Alastor properly growls at that, pupils flickering to dials for a fraction of a second.
And does as he is asked.
He pulls Lucifer up by the waist to help close the distance. Even with Lucifer in heels and on tiptoe, there’s still mountains and valleys between them somehow. It makes Lucifer reel while he resists the urge to climb Alastor like a damn tree, choking back a moan when his clothed arousal is pressed between them.
Their kiss is heated, clumsy. Fucking maddening, frankly. It is unbelievably slick and has Lucifer pressing impossibly closer, dragging the other down harshly by the hair the same time he delivers a sharp nip to that wicked tongue.
“Easy.” Alastor scolds, digging his claws into the angel so hard he can feel the man's nails pricking through his clothes. Then he bites the fuck down, tearing into Lucifer’s tongue like he’s not the King of Hell, like Lucifer isn’t anything at all. Just flesh without a pulse, maybe.
Lucifer fucking keens, almost losing balance and folding in by the ankles while the taste of angelic blood bursts between them.
Oh, that is so unfair.
He shakes, tilting his chin higher while Alastor sucks on the muscle, drinking him down with abandon. And Lucifer just lets him. Eyes fluttering shut, weakly grasping at the taller’s shoulders with trembling fingers, he has not a single protest on the brain.
He hates that.
He loves that.
When Alastor finally pulls back, the man licks his lips clean and gathers the string of saliva between them, if only to savor any and every trace of that saccharine splendor. He smiles. Of course he fucking does. What else would he do- frown? Alastor smiles every second of every day, as far as Lucifer is aware. So, there’s no excuse for the pang of arousal that vibrates in his core when he sees it for the thousandth time- that smug ass, self-satisfied, prideful smile. And maybe that’s it- why they ended up here. Two self important souls who want more than what they’re owed, just dying to take each other down a peg. It was only a matter of time, wasn’t it?
Or maybe it's the drug. Could be that too.
Regardless, deep down, Lucifer feels this might be a losing battle. But that doesn’t mean he can’t put up a good fight.
With that thought, Lucifer begins sinking to his knees. Alastor hums in approval, shoving him down the rest of the way just because he can. The devil grunts and bares his teeth to the sinner, harrowing glare clashing with Alastor’s amused, dilated one.
“Fucking push me again and see what it gets you.” He cautions. That’s twice now Alastor has treated Lucifer like a glorified ragdoll. He’ll be damned if he admits how much of a turn on it is, or how badly he needs to cum right now. Though, Alastor might already be well aware of both those things.
“Much better..” Alastor purrs, completely ignoring the threat. No the nonchalance does not make Lucifer’s stomach do a flip. Alastor thumbs over a rosy cheek, something truly rapturous and hungry in those illuminated eyes. “I almost thought you wouldn’t follow through, with this blasphemous mouth of yours.” His gloved finger breaches the shorter man’s lips, dragging down the plush, swollen bottom one and pulling back before Lucifer can capture it between his teeth, gnashing at the open air with a half snarl, half smile. Alastor chuckles darkly. “Really now. There are more productive ways to use it, no?”
“Fuck you.” Lucifer spits. And Alastor’s smile is absolutely shit eating.
“Funny.” He mutters in reply. And he doesn’t have to explain why that is. Lucifer knows what he means by that, wants to punch him for being a smartass right now, while he’s just about ready to blow his fucking load from all this bullshit foreplay. Instead of doing either of those things, he just grumbles and makes a grab for Alastor’s pants. The overlord takes a step back and lightly shoos the offending hands away. “Patience, mon roi.”
Lucifer growls. “I don’t fuckin have any pechéur.” He retorts angrily, the faintest hint of a demonic echo creeping into the last word. “You volunteering to pick up the pieces of my exploded dick or what? Get on with it.” Lucifer demands. Alastor properly cackles at that, like Lucifer’s suffering is a goddamn joke to him. Not even ‘like.’ It obviously is.
“You’re very funny, mon petit.”
With that, Alastor begins to pull down his slacks. Torturously slow, just to drive Lucifer that much more up the wall. And Lucifer is not having it this time.
He snaps his fingers, and when the light and sparkles dissipate, the pants are nowhere in sight.
.
.
Fuck.
Maybe Lucifer shouldn’t have rushed it. He could’ve used that time to brace himself, mentally, physically, for the sheer magnificence staring back at him. Alastor might be even harder than Lucifer is for crying out loud, flushed furiously from tip to base, and believe him, it’s a long journey to and from. The thought that Lucifer might be the first in Hell, hell, maybe even the first ever to even catch a glimpse of this thing has him clenching around nothing, the wave of fleeting pleasure doubling with the action as he whines unabashedly. After he makes Alastor come, that’s going straight inside. Without a shadow of a fucking doubt.
Alastor sucks in a breath when the slutty noise hits his ears, one of them flicking outwards when it does. He grabs hold of that monstrous fucking cock and holds it out to a drooling Lucifer, not entirely unlike he’s trying to bait a wild animal into coming closer. It looks as if he’s about to chastise the smaller for his sleight of hand too, but before he can, the devil propels himself forward, immediately beginning to trail kisses down the impressive length. So Alastor settles for wrenching a hand in his blond locks instead, falling silent while he watches Lucifer work. That’s okay- Lucifer has more than enough to say to fill the void.
“Fucking hell..you’ve really been walking around with this thing, Al? The whole time?” He says, breathy and genuine while he flicks his tongue out, groaning madly at his first taste. His own cock gives a pathetic jolt in his slacks when he feels Alastor shiver just barely, the grip in his hair tightening to a satisfying degree. Lucifer shivers twice as hard. Not like it’s a competition.
“.. Can I?” The devil asks nicely, faux innocence painted across his features, blinking owlishly up at Alastor through his lashes while he pokes his forked tongue through a lazy smile. Alastor returns it. And that smile may be warm, but his eyes are fully black now, making his irises stand out that much more amidst the dim room lighting.
“So polite.” He says, almost adoringly. “Of course you can, dear.” The sinner replies, placing his dripping tip on that sliver of Lucifer’s tongue with his free hand, emphasizing. “Just watch those teeth for me, will you?” He adds, playful and yet gravely sincere. Lucifer is done listening, content to take as much of Alastor in his mouth as he can on the first go. Which is apparently a lot.
Alastor hisses, and Lucifer feels another jolt of static race across his scalp and trickle down his spine, circling around to stop at the tip of his aching cock. He moans loudly around Alastor at the feeling, hips thrusting forwards in a fruitless effort to chase it. He whines, a pitiful thing before he throws himself into getting Alastor off, a desperate attempt to get the sinner to repeat the action and relieve at least some of the burning pressure currently eating him alive. Fuck, the drug must be really kicking in now. He can’t hold back his voice as the blissful torture worsens, gets so much better at the same time Alastor begins to fuck him in earnest, seemingly mirroring his increased desperation. It’s rough, unkind, uncaring.
Naturally, Lucifer moans whorishly at the change, falling limp while Alastor fucking uses him, content to just relax and let the pleasure thrum through his veins and prickle over his skin.
Until more static joins it, and Lucifer nearly screams. Holy fucking shit- could he really come from this? No, no, that would be embarrassing- he won’t .
“Fucking divine,” Alastor finally speaks, seemingly unaware of Lucifer’s internal anguish. Or maybe he is, because Lucifer literally feels the words on his skin, cascading down the front of his chest in a way that should not feel so fucking incredible when it zips across his nipples. No, no, no. “How lucky am I to get to see you like this, mon cheri?” Alastor rasps, and Lucifer’s eyes roll back despite how hard he tries to fight it. Alastor needs to stop talking, or-
“How many have dreamed of having you exactly where I have you now?” The demon drawls, like sharp honey, and Lucifer can hardly take it, tears gathering in his eyes. Not from Alastor hitting the back of his throat in the most bruisingly wonderful way, no- just the reminder of who and how they are. It should be Alastor down on his knees, servicing his king like a good, loyal subject. Instead, Lucifer is about ready to cream his pants from being treated like some lowly Lust Ring inhabitant, and in the moment he finds he could not be any more fucking elated.
Lucifer moans and swallows around the throbbing, glorious cock in his mouth in furious reply, willing his eyes to focus properly so he can burn Alastor’s expression into his brain. Maybe Alastor doesn’t like that. Or just hates him. Because the next thing Lucifer knows, he can hardly breathe. His eyes blow wide as the tendril crushes his windpipe, making his inconsolable cries flatline on the spot. No- ohmyfuckinggod - NO .
“So perfect, so good for me Lucifer. Look at you mon étoile- you’re taking me so well.” Lucifer thrashes violently, but makes no attempt to actually break free, because holy fucking shit- why the hell would he? It only drives Alastor to wrap more around him, binding his hands and ankles while his thrusts falter barely, becoming sloppier. Oh god. Lucifer thinks he might pass out, the lack of air making his head spin while he jerks uncontrollably, the pleasure just building and building and buildingandbuilding behind his navel. He’s almost scared of the rapidly approaching orgasm that threatens to put an end to his immortal life. It’s already so fucking good, unreal, and raw and everything he could ever ask for. How could it possibly get any better than-
“Waste none of it, okay? Mon coeur?”
There’s no radio filter. Over any of those words.
Lucifer blanches. He can’t fight it anymore.
Alastor slams in to the hilt, pressing Lucifer’s face flush to his pelvis. And he feels it, then. The shift. The visceral burning- the means to an end. He swears the room shakes under his boots, feels it in his curling feet. And then there’s a pause. That feeling when the roller coaster stops short, right before a huge drop. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh shit–
The tendril unwraps from his throat at the same time a dress shoe grinds down on his neglected cock.
“Scream.”
And Lucifer does.
He screams and screams until he feels ill with the effort, humping the sole of Alastor’s shoe like a bitch in heat while his vision whites the fuck out. He can’t see- he can’t fucking see anymore through the stars and the static, can barely hear either through the deafening radio feedback, but holy fuck can he feel. He feels like a damn supernova, like nothing else in his life has ever fucking mattered at all. Or maybe it has, because he ended up here, seizing with what has to be the greatest orgasm he’s had in eons, and he can’t stop screaming.
Alastor is laughing above him, fucking roaring with it while he works Lucifer through it, bearing down on his clothed dick with sadistic, dizzying vigor. The sound is more static than anything else, far more inhuman than should be possible. And he doesn’t stop, not even while shooting his load down Lucifer’s throat, though it is interrupted by bloodcurdling grunts and groans while he holds Lucifer still, forcing the angel to take every last drop. Lucifer sobs between swallows as the pressure of Alastor’s foot on him weakens considerably, straining against his shadowy restraints until he breaks free, frantically moving to touch himself, to keep the embers of heaven and hell within him burning. But it’s too late. His insides pulse angrily, feeling sorely empty while weaker, less mind numbing waves of euphoria roll through him as he continues to swallow spurt after spurt of Alastor’s spend. He groans, disastrously turned on by the circumstances and yet so very frustrated.
“Not to worry, your grace.” Alastor huffs, sending something warm besides cum to Lucifer's stomach. Jesus fuck, when will it end? Not that he’s complaining. He curls his tongue and sucks at the tip like it’s all he knows how to do, which it might as well be. “The next one will be much better. I..” He sighs contentedly as the stream finally comes to a stop, “..can assure you that much.”
Lucifer shivers with delight. Oh fuck yes. They’re both still painfully hard it seems, and it’s a good fucking thing, too.
It’s gonna be a long night.
Alastor crouches down to Lucifer’s level, reaching down to press a hand over Lucifer’s spoiled slacks. Lucifer groans at the feeling of warm squelching under the fabric, and he bats Alastor’s hand away with a bitter whine. Alastor hums, visibly pleased. His gaze becomes almost fond while he scoops Lucifer up in his arms, encouraging the smaller to wrap his legs around him, which the monarch does with alarming eagerness. Alastor snickers softly and walks them to the bed, relishing in Lucifer’s little whines all the while.
“You know. I bet it was Angel Dust who did this to us.” The demon says shakily, his words warped by the effort it takes for him to toss Lucifer on the mattress. In the time it takes the demon to crawl forwards after him, Lucifer is already stripping frantically, not having the mind to consider just snapping his fingers instead. “I’ll have to thank him, won’t I? For allowing me the pleasure of sharing tonight with you.”
He tugs at Lucifer’s soiled pants while the angel fights with the buttons on his copious layers. Alastor watches him struggle for a bit before he waves his hand, and then the clothes are swallowed by a sickly green glow, which eats away at the fabric until it is gone, destroyed. Lucifer is left only in his boots. With an added crisp snap of his fingers, Alastor is fully nude. Lucifer, bedeviled, blinks. Drinks in every inch of Alastor’s form. Then glares.
“Hate me for it later, mon ange.”
Lucifer actually gasps. Alastor has called him many pet names tonight, but fuck, that might be the one that does him in. His reaction doesn’t go unnoticed. Alastor traps him against the headboard, and Lucifer tries not to whimper at the visual, cornered like prey, Alastor’s weighty cock hanging dauntingly between his legs.
“Right now, I’d quite like to be inside of you, mon ange.” He leans in close to press a kiss to Lucifer’s knee. “Would you like that too?”
“Fuh-” Lucifer cuts off and opts to just nod, not trusting his voice or words at the moment.
“Words, darling.” Alastor purrs.
Well, damn.
He knows Alastor’s toying with him. The sinner doesn’t need words, didn’t before, doesn’t now. Lucifer’s eye twitches.
Well, he tried it the nice way. Time for drastic measures.
Instead of giving Alastor what he wants, he reaches a hand down his body, swiping a finger through his release before pushing it past his rim with a hissing groan. He impatiently adds another, entirely too fucking keyed up to take this any slower. Alastor gives pause, watching Lucifer with curious, amused eyes as the monarch works himself open. It spurs Lucifer on, driving his digits in as deep as he can get them. When he starts to get into it, crying out at the faintest stimulation to his prostate, Alastor doesn’t stop him. Just watches with those ravenous, lust blown eyes.
Lucifer throws in a few moans, trying to tempt Alastor into doing this part himself as best he can. He expects the man to snap, to snarl and rip Lucifer’s hand away, replace it with his own, or with his cock. He does no such thing. Instead, behind him, the sinner’s tail flits idly from side to side, making him look positively content to just sit and watch Lucifer play with himself all night. Ugh, shit. Losing battle.
Lucifer doesn’t give in just yet though, pulling out his hand to spit into it before picking up where he’d left off. “Are you gonna help or what?” He hisses. With less venom and more of a whine than he wanted to.
Alastor cocks his head. “Are you going to answer me?”
Lucifer squints, hard. As if he’s trying to blow Alastor up with his mind. He’s not, but he could if he really wanted to, which Alastor surely knows. Just doesn’t care enough to act accordingly.
The seraphim stays otherwise silent, save for a muttered curse as he shoves his fingers in deep again. When he gives no further reply, Alastor hums.
“Well, it seems we’re at an impasse.” He snickers, and he fully sits back on his heels, that mouth watering hard on following suit, obviously. It makes Lucifer groan loudly with exasperation, pulling his fingers out with a humbling squelch, to Alastor’s evident satisfaction.
“What do you want me to say, asshat?” As he speaks, Lucifer reaches down with both hands to spread himself wide. “Oh please fuck me, monsieur Radio Demon,” He drones flatly, ignoring Alastor’s burning gaze, “I’ve spent many a sleepless night fantasizing of this moment. Won’t you please make my wettest dreams come true??” He slowly transitions to an obnoxiously high pitch, batting his eyelashes and everything. The angel catches a brief glimpse of a furiously wagging tail before Alastor is dragging him down the bed by the shins, startling a rather unbecoming yelp from Lucifer before he can stop it.
“See? Was that so hard?” Alastor chastises, clearly holding back a laugh while he starts to trail kisses up Lucifer’s thighs, inching closer and closer to his core with each one. Lucifer does his best to pull the demon in closer, hiking his legs over Alastor’s shoulders with a shaky exhale, reveling in the way the leather of his boots catches the man’s skin.
“It needs a little work, if you ask me,” Alastor chides, rubbing circles into Lucifer’s hips, “but it'll suffice. For now.” He sucks a mark into the skin while his hands settle over the curves of Lucifer’s ass, groping leisurely while he rolls the ivory flesh betwixt his teeth. Ohh fuck- that’s really good. Lucifer starts to tremble again, and he grips the sheets with one hand, messing with Alastor’s ears with the other.
“Really? Mm, then let me try-” Lucifer nearly chokes on his retort when one of Alastor’s fingers slips inside, biting down on his lip so harshly it starts to bleed before he steels himself enough to continue. “..again, then.” Alastor hums encouragingly, low and long while he devotes himself to painting Lucifer’s skin with faintly luminescent golden blotches.
“Alastor..” Lucifer starts, jolting with a shiver at the ticklish ichor sliding down his chin. “We’re both high on..some kind of sex drug right now..” The devil continues while Alastor drags his tongue across the fresh marks and adds a digit, ears trained on his every word, “haah- harder than brimstone..and horny as all Hell..mmn..” Alastor hums again, pulling back to swirl his tongue around his fingers before adding a third, which makes Lucifer throw his head back with a gasp. He perseveres, significantly more frenzied now. “So, if you don’t fucking do something about it and fuck me already, then I- I’ll just have to go out, and find someone who-”
“– Blasphemy.”
Lucifer howls as Alastor promptly drives his teeth into his inner thigh, spearing brutally into the angel’s prostate at the same time. The combination is entirely too fucking much, that steady trail of angel blood increasing twofold as he abuses his tender bottom lip again. Alastor had meant to hurt him, sure, but it doesn’t stop Lucifer from clenching desperately around those slender fingers while he viciously staves off yet another premature orgasm.
Feedback sounds. And Alastor looks smug. Far, far too proud, of both himself and Lucifer.
Said blond squeals when Alastor doesn’t stop. In fact, he speeds up, curling into that one spot so hard it makes Lucifer see bright, breathtaking golden stars.
“For someone so often portrayed as cunning and sly, you are a terrible liar, Lucifer.” Alastor admonishes from between the king’s legs, undisturbed by Lucifer’s frantic attempts to escape the intense stimulation. “Are you going to apologize? Or will I have to force it out of you?”
“I- !” It’s as far as he gets, seizing up as if tased when Alastor sinks his incisors into the opposite thigh. How kind of him to give one to match. Fucking fuck.
“FFUCKK!! Al, you can’t- you have to s–!”
“-The first step to becoming a better person,” Alastor drawls, like he doesn’t care whether Lucifer comes from this or not, “is to admit when you are wrong.” He growls, then groans like a starved man while he collects the gilded spoils he's earned. “It’s grade school, Lucifer. Why don’t you give it a try?” He won’t stop driving his fingers into Lucifer’s prostate. Lucifer doesn’t know if he should grind down or push away, but it’s clear he doesn’t get a choice in the matter.
“Fuckk-! YouuuUUHH–!”
That only earns him another ruthless, unhinged bite.
Lucifer gives. He has to, can’t afford not to. His second orgasm of the night is creeping in far too soon. Now that he knows what to expect, he wants it more than anything, but not now, not before Alastor’s stuffed him so full he can taste that colossal fucking cock in his throat.
“UGHH SHIT- FUCK ‘M SORRY, SO FUCKING-! AHH, SORRY, SORRY!!” He outright sobs, squeezing Alastor’s head between his thighs with an unforgiving vengeance. It’s only the catch of the man’s antlers that makes him loosen his hold.
“‘M not-! Going anywhere! Now will you-!” Alastor sinks his teeth in again. “- STOPSTOP, ‘M GONNA CUM!!”
Alastor slows, pressing his glimmering lips to one of the bites with care. He cocks a brow at Lucifer, like he doesn’t see the fucking problem.
“I’m not stopping you.”
He shoves a fourth finger in then, curling every digit into Lucifer’s undoing.
“Go ahead, mon ange. You’ve earned it.”
Something between a laugh and a wail rips its way out of Lucifer then, and he tries, really tries not to. He clamps down around Alastor’s fingers to try and fight it, but that’s ultimately what ends up doing it.
“FUUUHHH- ALASTOR, ALASTOR!!” Lucifer fucking exalts, clawing at the sheets until they shred, giving him nothing to ground himself with so his hands just flail like mad instead, and Alastor keeps poking and prodding until he’s sure it’s set in motion. That’s when he pulls out his hand and flies forward to replace it with his cock, slamming inside so hard that Lucifer thinks he might’ve seen Heaven again- the creation of the universe, the big fucking bang while he careens over the edge.
“HOLY FUCK!!! AHHHHNNN–!”
He knows the room shakes this time, and Lucifer follows suit while Alastor begins to thrust with abandon, just in time to force the first ribbon of white from the tip of Lucifer’s spasming cock. He strikes the devil’s prostate immediately and relentlessly, which brings forth another, and another, reaching impossibly farther up his body as Alastor practically folds him in half. It actually sizzles when it hits Lucifer’s skin. Whether that is because his seed is so hot, or his skin is boiling is hard to tell. Lucifer seems undeterred, too busy battling and whining absolutely inconsolably against a fucking disastrous explosion of euphoria.
Alastor properly moans as Lucifer tightens angrily around him with each burst, watches Lucifer paint himself before he shoves in deep, until his cockhead bulges through Lucifer’s stomach, something guttural and nightmarish reverbing off the walls while he pumps Lucifer full of his own release. Like gasoline on a fucking fire. Lucifer is full on crying now, practically crushing Alastor’s cock as burning tears cascade down his face, joining the blood that catches the glow of the bedside lamp.
“Uhhhnnn..” Lucifer croons, twitching violently while Alastor slowly fucks his cum inside, which makes the angel’s head loll backwards almost painfully, toes curling in his boots at the feeling.
Belatedly, he realizes they’re both still hard.
“uhhhh…uuwhHHaAAAHH– AHHHHAAa-” Lucifer’s voice breaks in multiple places, shooting up with a scream as Alastor starts to fucking pound him, not even waiting for Lucifer’s insides to stop pulsing before he does so. “God, Alastor! You fuckin- oh GOD- so deep, oh FUCK!!”
Another bone rattling, animalistic fucking laugh crawls up out of Alastor’s throat at that. He pauses to hike one of Lucifer’s legs over his shoulder with one hand and grab a hip bruisingly with the other before he begins pistoning his hips at a breakneck pace.
“Oh, what an honor,” He purrs, sickeningly sweet and tinged with static as Lucifer scrambles for purchase. “To be called a god by the esteemed king of Hell himself..”
Lucifer feels hot, like his immunity to fire has up and left him. He digs his heels into Alastor so hard it makes the zippers on his boots almost break skin, so Alastor waves his hand and removes those too, which has them reveling in the newfound contact. Alastor especially. He turns to kiss Lucifer’s leg with fervor, almost reverently while Lucifer goes limp underneath him.
“Oh mon fruit défendu..” He groans against the angel’s simmering skin, the slick squelching of his cum between them profoundly sacrilegious. “I’d live a thousand lives if it meant I’d get to meet you here when the curtains fall..”
Oh.
Ohhh.
FUCK.
No one has ever talked to him like this in bed. Ever. Lucifer is going to cum again in no time flat if Alastor keeps this up. Which he does, thankfully. But also, fuck him.
“I wonder how many times I can make you come undone for me before daybreak, mon ange pécheur..” Not a single thrust misses that tight bundle of nerves that has Lucifer’s brain melting, and it’s wet and obscene, Alastor’s seed smearing between them and drooling to the torn sheets below. It’s been too long since he’s felt anything remotely fucking close to this. He can only respond to Alastor with an enthusiastic myriad of ‘ah! Ah! AHH!’ s while he resigns himself to the loving (?) desecration, too cock drunk to do much of anything else.
It’s almost unfair, unreal how all of this is fucking him up in the head, in mind, body, soul. He’s so sick with it he thinks Alastor actually means it. Honestly, he doesn’t care whether he does or not. As long as the sinner keeps talking with that insanely smooth voice, fucking him just like that, he can’t complain.
“It’s like you were made for this. Those wings of yours are quite deceiving, aren’t they?” Lucifer is struck by the sudden urge to kiss the man. Partly to shut him up, but mostly to act on the sheer, unparalleled fucking lust for the man currently wrecking him from the inside out. “You are much too corrupt, too good for Eden. You belong right here. With someone as irredeemable as me.”
For eternity, Lucifer wants to say. It’s on the tip of his tongue, but it’s overridden by a gasping moan as Alastor reaches a hand down to swallow his aching prick, which he is wholeheartedly not prepared for. His jaw drops when Alastor slowly starts to jerk him off, his thrusts becoming more deliberate, calculated while he observes Lucifer’s every reaction.
He can’t fucking take this anymore. Kiss, he needs to kiss, he needs-
Lucifer sobs and grabs for Alastor, hoping he’ll understand, which he seems to. But instead of making a dive for Lucifer’s lips, he first leans down to gather the line of blood that’s been trailing down the man’s chest, thumbing over the head of Lucifer’s cock while he slowly laps his way to the sacred tears that have gathered on the angel’s jaw. Only when there’s none left does he complete the journey, gently sucking on Lucifer’s bottom lip to coax out any remaining blood. And it stings but it’s so so worth it when Alastor finally indulges him, crashing their lips together with a harrowing moan only rivaled by Lucifer’s high pitched cry.
Alastor’s hand and hips slow momentarily after the first slide of their tongues. Then he grimaces and makes a noise of disgust.
Oh, right. They had tried to avoid this.
To override the taste of himself on Lucifer’s lips, he sucks on Lucifer’s tongue for a moment, almost tenderizing before ripping open the freshly healed wounds there and biting down, which makes Lucifer clench astronomically hard around him. The sinner’s answering groan and death grip on Lucifer’s cock suggests that this will definitely suffice. Lucifer bleats at the blissful, electrifying torture, witholding his climax as much as it encourages it, trying and failing to thrust into his hand and chase it. Alastor’s tail sways contentedly behind him while he chases the flavor off Lucifer’s tongue, starting to roll his hips again much to both of their delights.
Alastor shows mercy then and pulls his hand off the angel’s astonishingly erect dick, which feels cathartic, but also like the ceiling has come crashing down on him, too. He mourns the loss despite knowing it’s better this way. He’s just too high strung.
Alastor stretches his newly freed hand out to the side. There’s a hiss of magic then, something Lucifer ignores at first. A green flash in his peripheral that he pays no mind, can’t afford to when his orgasm is starting to rapidly creep over him again, Alastor’s tongue practically down his throat at this point. Ohhh fuuuck yesss.
“ Still with me, angel? ”
Lucifer admittedly jumps, the orgasm slinking away in equal alarm. For a split second he thinks it’s someone else in the room with them, but no- it’s unmistakably Alastor’s voice addressing him. Yet he feels nothing against his lips but the sinner’s own, and the words are coming from beside him, not in front of him like they should.
Lucifer, bewildered, breaks the kiss to turn his head to the side. He catches a glimpse of a bright red glow, barely registering that Alastor has manifested his staff to lay right next to Lucifer’s head before his face is grabbed and Alastor is on him once more, pulling Lucifer down so forcefully that his hips are sure to leave bruises while he resumes his conquest of the angel’s mouth.
“ Don’t stop on my account. ” Alastor’s voice sounds from the speaker. It really sounds no different than it would if the words came straight from his mouth, that same radio filter serenading his ears and making him shiver while Alastor grinds into his prostate. Fuck, he won’t last.
“ I want to hear every sound this heavenly body has to offer me. ” Alastor kisses him with dizzying force, practically bouncing the seraphim on his cock now, swallowing down his fucked out cries like it’s the air he needs to breathe. Lucifer cannot keep up anymore, his jaw going slack with moan after moan while he just sits back and lets Alastor fucking ravage him.
“ I want to fuck you again and again, until I’m sure you have nothing left to give me. ”
The sound Lucifer makes can’t really be classified by any specific word. The light flickers off briefly when it hits the air, neither really sure of who caused it. He shakes, thrashes, bracing for fucking impact, chopped up syllables being punched out of him every time that outrageously huge cock pulls out nearly all the way before slamming home to Lucifer’s achilles heel, so hard the sound of his balls slapping against Lucifer’s rim echoes off the walls. He’s deeper and further than Lucifer thinks he’s ever managed to reach himself. Knows he’s never reached, actually. He’s so unbelievably fucking full and it makes him honest to god laugh, like a fucking psychopath while he throws his arms around Alastor’s neck. He needs to feel more of him, closer, deeper, moremoremore-
“ You’re close again, aren’t you? ”
Lucifer sobs his agreement.
“ Then cum. Joue pour moi, mon doux ange. ”
Lucifer isn’t one to take orders. But he’s obliging before Alastor can even finish that sentence.
He doesn’t mean to, doesn’t want to- but he bites down on Alastor’s tongue with far too much force in that moment. And it hits him then. He’s going to cum- he’s going to cum possibly the hardest he ever has with Alastor inside, out of every other denizen of Hell. It’s all he can think about while a climax so great washes over him that he, oh– oh–
O h
.
‘ “..And you are?” The king drawls, greatly unimpressed, gesturing with his cane at the unfamiliar figure. Already he doesn’t like him. That look in his eyes just screams pompous motherfucker, someone glaringly too big for their britches who’s too busy being a pompous motherfucker to realize that. Or maybe he has, and just doesn’t care. Lucifer hopes he isn’t misfortunate enough to find out.
“Alastor!”
Lucifer fucking hates that he jumps at that grating voice becoming way too close for comfort, and he spins on his heel to face him only to be jostled harshly by the cane.
“Pleasure to be meeting you sir, quite a pleasure!”
Lucifer wants to fucking vaporize this Alastor right where he stands. The only thing that stops him from doing so is his daughter’s nervous gaze on the two of them, looking very worried about potential bloodshed. He opts to fix himself instead, readjusting his hat and jacket with a sour, immeasurably displeased scowl while the man proceeds, undeterred.
“It’s nice to finally put a face to the name!” Lucifer holds in a scoff. Yeah, ‘nice.’ That’s definitely what Alastor’s getting from this.
“You, are much shorter in real life!” The condescending gesture that the guy does right in front of him properly pisses Lucifer the fuck off.
Well, he can see why Alastor is a resident of Hell. He’s broken the ‘Thou shall not be an eldritch bitch’ commandment.
To be fair, as irritated as this interaction is making Lucifer, it does send a small thrill through him, too- it’s been a good while since anyone’s had the balls to talk down to him like this. Literally and metaphorically. It’s almost admirable.
Almost.
He feels the adrenaline of confrontation washing over him, making him rather giddy to fire back with something just as backhanded.
“Who is this, n- are you the bellhop??” The king replies, equally if not more condescendingly, craving Alastor’s next response more than he probably should. Explicitly so he can shut it down with his own, and do the same for the next, until Lucifer comes out on top like he always does.
He’ll be damned if he lets this sinner have even the smallest margin of victory over him. Not like that’s possible anyhow. He’ll back down eventually, and when he does, Lucifer will revel in his resignation and make sure Alastor never lives down the shame. Because as a very wise man once said: ‘You don’t take shit from other– ’
“ A - L A S - T O O R - R R R ! ! ! ”
It fucking burns when the name wretches itself from the depths of his soul, scrapes every inch of his throat, makes even Lucifer’s eardrums throb in agony. The dissonance makes something shatter audibly in the room, not that Lucifer is in any state to give a flying fuck right now. He’s pushed Alastor back considerably in wake of his painfully arching back, sinking the claws on one hand into the sinner’s shoulders and scratching angry red lines into his back with the other, if only to try anything, anything to ground himself against the drug enhanced, apocalyptic ecstasy that is devastating his very being. He almost wants to fucking eviscerate Alastor, reduce him to ash for introducing him to such world shattering sensations. How the fuck can he go on? What the fuck will he do when it’s over??
“Ughhh, keep squeezing me like that, Luci.” Alastor croons, fucking Lucifer through it with strength that frankly shouldn’t be possible. Despite this being the best, most unfathomable orgasm of the night, Lucifer thinks he might not have anything left to ejaculate, and the thought almost makes him sad. Until he is proved very wrong as Alastor digs one of his claws into the slit of Lucifer’s cockhead, sending out little static currents over the surface.
Lucifer babbles hysterically at the added stimulation, jolting violently in time with the shockwaves over his skin, screaming as the white hot pleasure somehow intensifies, peaking and surging through his veins. How the fuck is he still coming?
“Fuck, I love it when you scream like that,” Alastor hisses through his blood covered teeth, watching with vibrant red dials as his cock pokes from Lucifer’s abdomen with each bruising drive into the devil’s body, forcing a gush of white out with each one. “I can’t tell if it feels better around my cock or while you’re crushing me like- ghh, fuck.”
Alastor strokes the angel furiously, and thrusts and thrusts and thrusts until Lucifer is sure he’s not in Hell anymore, not in Heaven either. He’s someplace even better, even worse, someplace he never, ever wants to leave. When he finally does, Alastor has flipped him over, has started to cover him with his warm, delightful release, muttering praises and admonishments while it splashes across his ass, his back, his tail, his wings.
His-?
Lucifer blinks multiple times. He eyes the appendages like he’s never seen them before, twitching them until they properly spread and flick outwards. When had he even-?
Suddenly Alastor yanks him back by the hair, so strongly it makes Lucifer’s horns spiral upwards from his head, completing the form against the angel’s will.
“We’re not done here. Are we mon ange..?” He breathes raggedly, and Lucifer feels something wet drip onto his shoulder that doesn’t feel like cum. When Alastor forces him to meet his crazed, deranged fucking eyes, he realizes it was a line of blood red drool, no doubt from Lucifer’s unintentional assault on the man’s tongue earlier. Or perhaps it had been there before that. “The night is still young.”
Lucifer’s half hard cock twitches pitifully.
Ohhh shit.
Alastor’s fucking right, isn’t he?
Lucifer smirks, through the tears and the insatiable heat steadily rebuilding in his abdomen.
“We’re not. So try to keep up for me, won’t you, mon pécheur?”
Alastor smiles so hard that stitches lace the sides of his grin.
And so they go again.
First Alastor fucks him from behind like that, taking full advantage of the position to cover Lucifer’s back with more pretty bites, slowly working up to his neck until Lucifer is crying for ‘more, more!’ When he samples Lucifer’s wings, switching between pulling him by the horns and the tail to meet his thrusts, Lucifer desecrates the bed sheets while Alastor pumps him full a second time.
Then, Alastor temporarily takes a back seat when Lucifer practically jumps him, forcibly straddling the sinner and riding that monstrous cock as if all Hell would surely crumble to dust before morn. When Alastor kisses his neck sweetly before tearing into it, then wraps a burning, scalding hand around Lucifer’s weeping cock, the seraphim shrieks so loud it makes something else in the room shatter while he coats Alastor’s hand in pearly ropes of cum, which the sinner promptly samples with a famished expression as he notes, “For a being of creation, you are quite destructive. Self or otherwise. Aren’t you?” Then he slams Lucifer down into the bed by the waist, not even giving Lucifer a chance to realize what’s happening before he’s being covered in glorious fucking cum again. He outstretches his tongue to catch some and swallows eagerly when his brain comes back to him.
The sight makes Alastor growl lowly and summon a myriad of dark tendrils to suspend Lucifer midair above the bed. Lucifer doesn’t protest, knows that whatever’s happening now will be more than worth the suspense. But it’s hard to trust the process when he suddenly feels very empty, far less wet and full than he should. He whines at the loss of Alastor’s spend inside of him, it having been vanished away, but isn't given time to properly mourn as it's promptly replaced by Alastor's unjustifiably long fucking tongue. Lucifer’s scream of “OH FUCK YES!” is rudely cut short by a tendril stuffing inside of his mouth. “ You want all of Hell to hear you? ” Alastor’s voice chimes from the floor where his staff had been knocked ages ago as he delves deeper, swirling that unholy muscle and curling it into Lucifer’s sensitive walls until he has to summon countless more just to keep Lucifer still, keep those trembling legs spread wide so he can fucking feast.
Lucifer cums embarrassingly fast.
Alastor coos and coddles him while he maneuvers the smaller to sit flush against his lap, running his fingertips through Lucifer's hair. It doesn’t last- in the next moment he’s manhandling him in a way Lucifer knows he’s gonna remember the next time he jacks off, caged in while Alastor fucks his thighs with a terrifying vengeance. And Lucifer lets him- lets himself be fucking used like some cheap sex toy while Alastor ruts his cock over his king’s, the whopping size difference not lost on either of them. Not cripplingly fucking hot in the slightest, no sir.
They come together that time, Lucifer dry. He begs Alastor to eat him out one more time, which he does, torturing the angel’s cock with his smoldering palm until Lucifer spasms and pulses around his tongue, screaming fucking praises and exaltations for the man bringing him such toe curling ecstasy.
.
“How many was that now, mon ange?” Alastor rumbles against his neck. Lucifer’s only answer is a string of hellishly hoarse, unintelligible moans.
"Answer me.” He wrings Lucifer's nipples between his fingers.
“Fuck-! S-Seven..!”
“Hm?”
“Seve-! aaAAAAA- E I G H T ! ! EIGHTEIGHT- AAHHHH FUUUUCK!!!”
How can this one be just as good, if not better than the last? They’re both shooting blanks now, and yet he finds the overstimulation to be abhorrently incredible while he spasms around Alastor’s cock for what has to be the last time tonight. Well, morning, really- the hustle and bustle of the Pride Ring outside gives that much away.
Alastor throbs where he’s buried deep inside Lucifer’s heat, and he bites down on the angel’s neck while he lets the pulsations lead him to orgasm once more, groaning something fierce against Lucifer’s skin while he rides it out.
When that’s done and over with, he unlatches from Lucifer's neck and slowly pulls out, making both of them shudder and groan as they attempt to feel anything remotely normal again.
Finally. Finally they’re both soft.
Lucifer doesn’t let the silence fester, breaking out into a wheeze before it has the chance to.
“We are so doing that again.”
Alastor snorts.
“We’ll see.”
Lucifer whips around as if slapped. “Are you fucking-”
“-Kidding, kidding. Sure we can do this again, mon étoile.”
Lucifer pouts, holding back a sigh of relief. “..‘s what I thought, bitch..”
Alastor laughs almost (?) fondly. He slides down the bed to wrap Lucifer in his arms, bringing them into a spooning position which does not make Lucifer’s heart skip a beat. More shadowy tendrils form, as do several cloth rags which gently begin to clean them both off. They both know there are more effective ways of doing this, but neither seems to care, enjoying the domesticity more than they probably should. Alastor begins to hum idly, and the sound is more relaxing than it has any damn right to be.
Lucifer’s eyes slowly flutter closed, and he delights in knowing that if Alastor tried anything funky right now, he'd still be more than ready to nip that shit in the bud. He kinda almost wishes the demon would. But said man does not. Hopefully because he knows better.
“Can I tell you something, mon canard?” Alastor purrs, almost a whisper. Lucifer hums in acknowledgement, softly, like he might scare Alastor off if it’s any louder.
“I knew the whole time that our drinks were spiked.”
Record scratch.
Lucifer’s eyes fly open. Immediately he’s springing out of Alastor’s grasp, twirling around to face him because this motherfucker-
Alastor squishes the blond’s cheeks, stopping any hope of Lucifer’s next words being taken seriously as the syllables distort comically. Then he’s kissing the king until Lucifer’s strife quiets to a pleased hum, kissing back more softly than he wants to, but just as much as he needs to.
Unbeknownst to Lucifer, though Alastor is beyond privy, elsewhere in the room lies two broken picture frames. Both containing the image of a tall blonde woman draped in pearls and magenta. Lucifer will never notice them missing from the wall- never know that they are gone come morning after Alastor enlists his little helper to sweep the glass with care and dispose of it before the king rouses.
When they part, Alastor gathers the saliva string between them with mirth before speaking once more. His voice is all scratchy from growling, more than usual of course, which makes Lucifer stifle a laugh when he notices. “Don’t worry- I didn’t put anyone up to it. I just didn’t quite put a stop to it either.” Lucifer finds he doesn’t care whether that’s a lie or not. “I hope there’s no hard feelings.” Alastor concludes, one of his tipped ears flopping down to the pillows behind them.
There aren’t. But Lucifer still punches him in the arm, which Alastor takes with grace and a small wince.
“Hothead.” He chastises.
“Eldritch bitch.” Lucifer responds.
Despite the animosity in those words, the kiss that follows may be their sweetest one yet.