How to give Lucifer a heart attack and other evil plans for a sunday evening

by katyaKurae

Summary:

Alastor wants to experiment with his own boundaries and Lucifer, who by now has become a devoted boyfriend, is more than willing to help him.

At first, though, the proposal catches him by surprise. Just a little bit.

“Would you be against me giving you a blowjob?”

Lucifer, who until this very moment was having a most peaceful and pleasant morning, a breakfast alone with his partner on the fifth floor terrace of the Hazbin Hotel, with delicious freshly brewed coffee and the sound of the screams of the damned in the background, music to both of their ears, beyond the hills that separate them from Pentagram City, spits out the sip he was about to swallow. Then he chokes on the remains and, as he tries to fix this mess, his duckling-shaped cup slips from his suddenly numb and clumsy fingers and shatters to pieces on the floor. Fortunately, a mere thought is enough to put it back together again, he is very fond of that cup, Charlie gave it to him when she was a toddler. On the other side of the table, Alastor reads the newspaper, his morning ritual, in absolute peace, his face calm and the most serene version of his Cheshire smile plastered on his lips, as if he hasn't said anything even remotely out of the ordinary. Nor as if Lucifer hadn't overreacted to his proposal in an almost cartoonish way.

Of course, only the Radio Demon could raise such an offer with just such mundanity, almost as if he's bored with the conversation. And if he expects any kind of answer from Lucifer, his official partner (even the Devil himself doesn't believe it; when he asked Alastor to put a label on their relationship and the deer demon told him they were obviously together, he spent a week sleepless with excitement) he certainly doesn't urge it. Or he waits for it with astonishing serenity, as if he had asked him what ingredients they were missing for tonight's dinner and was waiting for Lucifer to go through a mile-long shopping list in his head until he could list them all.

He is not going through a shopping list, no, but Lucifer might be going over each and every one of the vital decisions that brought him to this moment, to this breakfast under the crimson sky and sulfuric breeze.

The fall from Heaven hurts, but damn, it was worth it.

"No, I wouldn't, of course,” says Lucifer as he hurries to wipe up the coffee that has spilled all over the table. He hasn't stained his partner or splashed his newspaper by miracle. Fuck it, of course he's not against it. In fact, he's starting to grow hard just from the thought. Alastor merely nods, “but what's this all about?"

"I see,” says the Overlord, again, as normally as he would assume any kind of idle chatter, not deigning to answer his question. "Then I think I'll give you one tonight."

It takes a lot to catch off guard a creature that was born before time was even a thing. Alastor, however, has a gift for it. He has been proving it to him time after time since the first time they met, since that first fateful encounter of hatred at first sight that after the last Extermination turned into something very different.

"Al?"

"Yes, Luce?"

Okay, Alastor just called him Luce. He only does it when they're alone and things are going well, when he's in a good mood, so this is almost certainly not because something has gone hopelessly awry and Armageddon is about to be unleashed on their heads, but Lucifer can't help but bewilderment quickly leading to distrust.

"Why?"

The Radio Demon finally raises his head up from his newspaper and looks at him with his eyebrows arched, his smile soft and compassionate, as if he has to explain a very simple concept to a slightly dumb child.

"Because I feel like it, what other reason could I have?"

"I don't know. It's just... it's kind of sudden, isn't it?"

"After half a year together, I wouldn't say that such a thing as sudden still applies. Don't you want me to?"

There is no threat of any kind in his tone, just simple curiosity and a search for explicit consent to his intentions to change his diet, at least in the face of tonight's dinner. But Lucifer senses it as one. Not for anything Alastor promises with smile, sight or voice, there's not even a variation in the radio waves around them. No, it's just for the possibility of losing that blowjob. 

He's in the mood, okay? He wants it bad. He's a weak creature. And, as such, he shows it as part of his face turns gold.

"No, no, no, no! I want it! I really do!" he exclaims, and Alastor's smile grows just a little wider, pleased.

"Fabulous,” says the deer demon as he stands up, gracefully, ready to leave. "Then I'll see you tonight, Luce."

Alastor passes by his side and leans down, bending just enough to place his back at the perfect ninety-degree angle and drop a kiss on his temple. It's soft, sweet and smells like coffee and the shower soap he uses in the morning. Lucifer is stunned.

The Radio Demon fades into shadows right under his nose, but the poor fallen angel doesn't really register it. He understands nothing but the time on his watch, as he counts the seconds until this very night arrives. And, maybe and just maybe, smoke begins to come out of his ears.

 

***

 

Generally speaking, this would have been a normal day. Peaceful, quiet, with its hellish ups and downs, and most ordinary. It would have been... if Lucifer's first thought of anything wasn't a flash of the word “blowjob” in neon and capital letters, of course.

Super normal. The usual.

Actually yes, it's been a normal day. Since the Final Extermination, the hotel has a greater influx of guests, so breakfasts, lunches and dinners are copious, in company and, in some cases, with buffet included, so the King of Hell and the Radio Demon prefer to keep at least one of these meals for the two of them alone, on the balcony of their shared bedchamber. It was one of the pacts regarding their relationship. One that they reached quick, almost naturally and without any disagreement. The hotel now has this many people, that also means a lot of therapy sessions, workshops and redemptive activities in which Lucifer sometimes lends a hand. Alastor has aired his broadcast, as he does every morning, with his insulting advertising, but advertising nonetheless, for the Hazbin Hotel, and then they've been together at lunchtime with the rest of the crew, the ones who have been with Charlie since the beginning, more or less. Then someone, some random demon, has tried to attack the hotel because he apparently had a score to settle with a random guest and Alastor has eaten him. And in the meantime, besides being at the ready to defend his partner and his little girl, which hasn't been necessary, Lucifer hasn't been able to stop thinking about whether, in addition to blowjob, Alastor will want to include a deep throat. He's good at swallowing...  uh... plentiful masses of meat. No gag-reflex.

Lucifer is usually one of those who go from one thought to another in a hyperactive and anxious way without stopping too long on anything in particular. He has that problem, he knows it and is working on it every Tuesday in therapy sessions with a therapist from Wrath, an imp friend of Charlie's from when she got her degree. Because yes, apparently his daughter has a degree and he didn't know it, but that's a problem for another day. Today, despite his more usual tendency, he can't stop thinking about just one thing. Just one. 

(This, when it happens to him most often, is, of course, when Alastor is involved, to absolutely no one's surprise).

The Devil (biblical creature, unique among the archangels, the Morning Star, the Pride of God, Serpent of Eden and Original Tempter) keeps pacing around their shared bedroom. It's his suite, the one he designed for himself when they rebuilt the hotel, not with the intention of antagonizing Alastor but with that ultimate outcome. Nor did he intend to end up hosting the Radio Demon most of the time, except when he feels like sleeping alone, but hey, fuck it. Or not. Or yes, but literally. Lucifer tries to loosen his shirt collar at the thought, because he's breaking out in sweats just remembering that night has already fallen, dinner is over, and at any moment they could... they could....

"If you keep walking around like that, Luce, my dearest,” says Alastor, who has just materialized from absolute nothingness, barely three feet away from his partner. Lucifer gives such a jump that he has been on the verge of being embedded in the ceiling. And he lets out a scream that, although Alastor doesn't point it out, widens that irritating smile of his. Good thing the suite is soundproofed “you're going to rip up the carpet. Maybe even tear a hole in the floor."

"Ha. Very funny."

"I know. I get that a lot."

"Well, I don't want to upset you, honey, but they're probably being sarcastic."

Alastor's eyes widen and, never breaking his smile, he brings his right hand to his chest in a gesture somewhere between offended and amazed.

"No!"

"Yes."

"You too, dear?"

"Right now, yeah."

When Alastor smiles this time, there is a hint of affection that doesn't usually accompany his gestures, of amusement born of tenderness, of feeling safe in here. It's so beautiful that Lucifer can't help but feel his face burn in sight of an expression that is so common yet so rare for him. Especially when the infamous Radio Demon puts his microphone aside and closes the distance betweem them. Face to face, Lucifer only has to grab him by the lapels of his coat to force him to lean in and kiss him. It has happened more than once before (on those wonderful occasions when the deer demon is in a good mood, when he feels like being touched and kissed, albeit mostly over the safe ground of clothing) and Alastor expects it to. When it doesn't happen, however, when the Devil just silently scans him with a conflicted expression, he quirks an eyebrow, ears slightly tilted back.

"Is something wrong, Luce?"

"I want to know why."

Never letting his smile fade, the Radio Demon frowns. It's one of those things only he can do.

"Why what?"

Lucifer sighs. He crosses his arms only to drop them two seconds later, not quite sure what to do with them.

"Why now? What has gotten on your mind all of a sudden? "

"Is this about the proposal I made to you in the morning?"

'Proposal' he calls it. Proposal! He's got some nerve.

"Yes, it's because of your ' proposal'." He keeps emphasizing by making quotation marks with his fingers, and a screeching sound momentarily fills the air. One of Alastor's ears twitches. "I've been all day..."

"Greedy"

"...Wondering about it. And not because of what you're thinking!"

"Aha."

"Not only!" Lucifer is quick to admit, although his cheekbones are crowned with gold. "I want to understand you, Alastor, nothing more."

I want this to work. It's a plea too close to ' I love you' and neither of them has dared to utter such a thing yet, so Lucifer bites his viper tongue, because he's terrified of rushing.

Right in front of him, Alastor seems to fight against himself to hide the more than obvious traces of discomfort and, in one of the walls, his shadow stirs, uneasy. Lucifer feels the urge to reach out to him, but is afraid of what might happen if he touches him. There are only two options: either he loses his hand (and Alastor gets a late-night snack) or they dive into the pleasures of the flesh without talking about it first. He doesn't like either, so he keeps still until the Radio Demon sighs.

"This is supposed to be normal for couples, isn't it?"

"It depends on the couple." Lucifer shrugs. "It doesn't have to be for us. There are no rules written in stone or anything like that."

Alastor nods. Somehow, the fallen angel suspects he'd rather there were.

"It's simple really, Lucifer,” he mumbles. "I want to try something new, that's all. I've been talking to Rosie lately and it's been on my mind."

"Do you talk to Rosie about blowjobs?"

"I talk to Rosie about exploring my own boundaries."

"Ah."

Well, that makes more sense.

At the look on Lucifer's face, which must be a painting, Alastor rolls his eyes, but the smile doesn't leave his lips, so perfect in color, shape and curvature (except when he goes into his psycho cannibal mode, of course; although he has a little something there too...) that the Devil could kiss him for hours without getting sick of it. He doesn't and that alone, honestly, deserves that his brothers come down from Heaven to cover him with honors and laurels, playing harps and composing odes in his name, as it was done with the heroes of old times.

"Also, I couldn't help but notice one thing. And yes, before you tell me again, I know that not all couples are the same. But look at our dear Charlie and her Vaggie." Eh... Lucifer would prefer not to take his daughter's romantic and/or sex life as an example of anything, please and thank you. So much for finding a bra in a lamp after a party at the hotel months ago. "Or Husker and our self-proclaimed actor."

"Are they a couple? I didn't know."

"Everyone knows but them. What I'm getting at is that they're almost always touching. In one way or another, not necessarily sexually. But they're making physical contact. All. The. Time."

Is that tinge in his voice exasperation or envy? Or both?

"And? We touch each other, too."

On one glorious occasion, they even held hands in public during a press conference. It was spectacular. Especially because of the power outage that knocked out half of Pentagram City's electricity.

"You allow me to touch you. You always let me initiate the contact and continue it, but you don't do it of your own volition."

"It's not like I don't want to!" Lucifer hastens to exclaim, worried by the wounded spark he sees in his partner's face.  "If it were up to me, I'd be all over you. For the love of my Mother, Alastor, I'd be a snake clawed to your face!"

"Then why don't you?"

"I don't... I don't want to overstep your boundaries. That's just it. It doesn't mean I don't spend all day thinking about how badly I want to kiss you or... you know what I mean."

Squeeze his tail, which he knows is there, under his coat, fluffy and soft. Scratching behind his ears. Stroke his hair and braid it. Hug that very narrow waist and kiss him until he is breathless. Make a whole painting on his chest with just his tongue and some saliva... 

"Okay. And what if I want to try and see how far I can stretch my own boundaries?"

"I'd be incredibly cool with that. I'm just surprised."

"Why?"

The "if you want me so badly ” is left unsaid, but lingers there.

"Because when we started this, you told me you weren't sexually attracted to me, and I thought... I mean, don't get me wrong! I'm not using what you told me against you, I would never do that."

"So? You're not attracted to me either?"

"Ha!" he exclaims. "I wish. Alastor, you drive me crazy in every single way. But even though I want you more than anything, I'm not going to touch you if you don't want me to, or if you think it's some kind of duty just because we're in a relationship."

"I don't think it is."

The statement, so blunt and so sure, makes Lucifer let out part of a breath of air he didn't know he was holding.

"Okay... Okay, fine. Then why now? Don't take this the wrong way, I'm just surprised you're so serious about a suggestion like this after only six months. Besides, whenever anyone in the hotel mentions any sexual topic you turn pale."

"Because Angel Dust's jokes are in bad taste and not funny,” he snaps, a little too quickly, perhaps. "I'm not a demure little lady, Lucifer, I can talk about sex out loud." 

"Yeah."

"I'm serious."

"Yes, yes."

"Lucifer!" he shouts, exasperated. "I mean it! I'm perfectly capable of talking about sex here, with you, and I want to try giving you an oral. For the sole reason that I feel like it. And that's it. But if any of this gets out of this room or I have to deal with a single horny conversation outside this space because of you, I will skewer you, turn you into a pincushion, cook you like a kebab and give you a taste of yourself while you regenerate! Is that clear as a boundary?!"

Oh, Alastor always says the nicest things. 

The fact is that, despite the threat, which in other circumstances and coming from any other sinner would be something insulting that could earn them to burn for the next three centuries in a pit of boiling sulfur, there are two things that make Lucifer smile lovingly. On one hand, the posture of Alastor's ears, flattened, and the slight blush that crowns his cheeks, which denote that he is nervous about all this. And on the other hand, the opposite extreme, the twinkle in his eyes and the murky clarity with which he speaks, which shows a matter of confidence.

Alastor is putting himself in his hands because he trusts him. How could Lucifer not understand that.

"Crystal clear."

And, to the deer demon's surprise, Lucifer raises a hand, cradles his cheek, urges him to lean in and kisses him most gently. And Alastor melts on his lips as he lets himself be led to the bed between restless steps, stumbling as they tangle with each other.

Lucifer can't help but smile into Alastor's mouth as they stumble and, whether by the twists of fate or just a little magic trick, fall to the mattress, which greets them with a bounce. Alastor's tongue sinks past his teeth, as a kind of promise of what's about to come, and the fallen angel squeezes him around the waist as they roll on top of each other, giddy fingers now entangled in undoing their respective shirts, bow ties and coats. 

It's not the first time he's thought about it, but they're wearing too many clothes. Both of them. There are at least two or three layers to spare here. 

Alastor gasps against his mouth when Lucifer finally manages to get a hand under the crimson cloth and stroke his side, maybe a little close enough to the tail area. His beloved deer demon is sensitive-skinned, sometimes so much so that Lucifer has come to wonder if it might not be a pernicious punishment imposed by Hell (Heaven, actually). Although, seeing him now, rosy-cheeked and mouth gaping beneath his own body, it's a little hard for the King of Hell not to think of that sensitivity as a gift, especially when he lunges for his neck, shirts finally open, on the verge of disappearing, and the Radio Demon arches under his touch.

Who was going to blow who?

Alastor, however, in this new self-inquiry to test his own limits, does not protest when it is Lucifer who takes the lead and begins to cover his naked torso with kisses, up and down and back again, filling with special pampering his flat belly and pecs, running over the scar left by the last Extermination as if he wanted to lick it off. The deer demon gasps as he bites near a nipple, and the hands running over Lucifer tense, threatening to claw.

In the intimacy field, Alastor and Lucifer are used to sleeping together. They like it and it has a certain therapeutic effect that they don't talk about as much as they should, but that is quite good for both of them, especially on the most difficult nights, when memories come to the surface. Sharing a bed on a regular basis with his favorite demon has two consequences. The first one, that they are no strangers to kissing, not even in this subtype, that of those who go a little too far, although always above the waistband of the pants and Alastor is the one who starts the most daring contacts. Secondly, Lucifer has woken up more than once with a hard-on and had to run to the bathroom before Alastor could regain contact with reality. Because yes, oddly enough, Alastor is usually the second to wake up. After quite a while of neglecting himself and weakened by the after effects of the angelic wound, he needs those hours of sleep. And Lucifer is happy Alastor trusts him enough to rest his presence.

In either way, and on the subject of morning erections, the Devil is beginning to think he's been a bit too prude. Given what he's seen (that they're both hard and wet, that Alastor, though instinctive and inexperienced, seeks friction through a dry movement of his hips) they might not have been so unwelcome.

"Luce...” gasps Alastor as Lucifer begins to fiddle with the button of his pants, in between kisses that he leaves just below his belly button. The Devil sticks out that snake tongue of his and Alastor smiles, even between gasping breaths, “Wasn't I supposed to be the one who wanted to eat you?"

"Do you mean figuratively or literally?" 

"Both, but we both know you're not going to let me cook you,” Alastor jokes, shrugging as he props himself up on his elbows, then places a hand, surprisingly delicate despite the sharpness of his claws, on Lucifer's cheek and pulls him close. "Come here."

Lucifer does not protest when he is dragged back up on the bed, nor when Alastor kisses him or gropes him out of his shirt, nor when he boldly unbuttons his pants and urges him to get rid of it. The King of Hell, however, sets his own conditions, which is to incite Alastor to undress too, until he can behold him for the first time in all his glory. And no, he can't help but whistle.

Alastor, to his surprise, laughs. He looks pleased and has a special gleam in his eye, as if he likes knowing he is desired by the King of Hell himself.

(He likes it.)

"Enjoying the views?"

"How beautiful,” Lucifer murmurs. "I knew you were, but you know, just for this alone, the night is already amazing.”

The deer demon reddens a little more, the smile somewhat strained and, as he checks him up and down, Lucifer notices that he may have gotten even harder. Whoops. What's this, the dreaded Radio Demon likes to be praised?

If his theory is true, they're in for a hell of a time. No pun intended.

"And to hear that from the most beautiful angel of them all. I feel flattered."

"Bah, those are exaggerations invented by some random Satanists, who got really horny the first time they saw me,” Lucifer scoffs with a wave of his hand, before reaching for Alastor's mouth again to cover it with his own. "Are you sure, love?"

"Absolutely. Besides, I'm not going to do anything I don't like. I'll stop if I have to."

"I can't tell you how reassuring it is to hear that."

Alastor just raises his eyebrows in a “who do you take me for” sort of way before shrugging and deciding he's not going to ask a question that doesn't need an answer. Swiftly, the Radio Demon leaves one last kiss on his lips before, taking advantage of the fact that they've never gotten far from the edge of the bed, he climbs off the mattress and kneels on the floor at Lucifer's feet, eyes huge and glazed over.

Holy fuck, what a sight.

The Devil doesn't give it much thought, mostly because he's losing brains just with this view. More fly off the handle when, taking advantage of the fact that his partner has just settled on the edge of the bed, knees wide apart, back straight, Alastor rests a cheek on his thigh and looks at him through his eyelashes. Then he kisses his warm porcelain skin and bites him without drawing blood, though stinging. Lucifer could cum with this alone, but he's interested in holding on, at least a little longer.

It's a challenge, for the record. Even more so when Alastor wraps an inexperienced hand around his cock.

Then he pulls too hard as he stands up to try to decide how to get Lucifer's phallus in his mouth and, alas, there goes a good part of the arousal.

"Ouch, ouch, ouch! Alastor, stop!"

Alastor releases him on the spot and raises his head, ears perked up.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"A little...” Lucifer mumbles, restraining himself from massaging his dick after this demonic tug. "Okay... can you be a little more careful, honey? Please?"

Alastor just tilts his head as if he doesn't understand what he means. 

"What do you say we do one this?" The Devil proposes, trying a new approach, because those eyes are hard to resist. "How about if you let me guide you?"

"You're dying to command me, aren't you?"

"I could cum just thinking about it,” Lucifer jokes, before prompting him to raise his head with a couple of fingers under his chin. "The thought of a creature as magnificent as you following my lead... you have to grant me that it's an exhilarating thought, to say the least."

Yes. Alastor has a praise kink, because he goes absolutely glowing red. And hard. Something he may not have known until now.

"Alright,” the deer demon agrees. "Let's try it your way."

Lucifer smiles. He doesn't mind bending over to kiss him again. He's very flexible.

"Wonderful,” he sighs, before straightening up. The hand that used to caress his face stops to slip through his hair, at the crown of his head, between his two sensitive ears, and Alastor shudders. "Now open your mouth, my sweet. As wide as you can."

Actually, it's a good thing Alastor doesn't open his mouth as wide as he can, just a decent, non-terrifying amount. Big enough to fit the Devil's cock but no dislocated bones, no weird crunching or anything. And thank goodness. That jaw has a one hundred and eighty degree axis of rotation.

"So, perfect. You're perfect,” he murmurs, and Alastor gasps under the spell of his words, especially when he slips a hand into his hair, between his antlers and his ears. "You can hold me if you want, but softer. No squeezing."

Alastor does not nod, nor does he obey. Not at all, or at least not as Lucifer expects, because he is a stubborn brat. He does lean, but on his knees. The Devil shrugs in a silent “have it your way”, before guiding the deer demon's head down to his cock.

Okay, Alastor's mouth is better than he had imagined.

Warm, wet... and to think those two rows of butcher knife sharp teeth don't even brush against him when he commands him to close his mouth around his cock, wrapped around his lips. But they are there, and knowing it adds a little bit of danger to the whole thing that Lucifer finds most stimulating. The fallen angel moans, half of his penis inside Alastor's warm mouth, half outside, at last covered by a hand of slender, long fingers.

Claws, actually, as dangerous as those teeth, but then he's always loved risky sports. Freefalling most of all.

With the King of Hell's dick heavy on his tongue, Alastor looks down at his partner from below, eyes wide. From this angle, anyone would say they almost look innocent. Almost. And Lucifer can't help but smile at the sight. The tongue that brushes against him is not quite as raspy as a feline's, but not soft like a human tongue either. It's somewhere in between, and the fallen angel moans again as Alastor moves it around him.

(Extremely long and flexible, it wraps around him. Two turns. That's not very human of him either, but Lucifer doesn't care.)

"How are you doing?" he questions. Alastor raises an eyebrow as if to say “my mouth is a little too busy to answer”. "Give me a tap on the leg if you're okay. Two if you don't or need to stop."

A single tap on his thigh, though it includes a scratch. Even so, Lucifer smiles again.

"Fantastic. You're doing great, babe."

Alastor moans around his cock when Lucifer compliments him. It's wonderful. And Lucifer takes the opportunity to start moving his head, one hand firmly gripped on one of his antlers telling him how far to move forward and how far to move back, as he showers him with the truest and dirtiest compliments he can think of. And if Alastor's tongue tightens around his shaft or if he moves faster and faster without Lucifer's prompting, that is only their concern.

Slowly, the deer demon takes more and more of him, until he needs to tilt his head so that he can fit the whole of the Devil's cock in his mouth. Then, between moans and gasps, feeling closer and closer to an orgasm, almost tempted to call God, Lucifer lets him go.

"Hold up for a moment,” he asks, between ragged breaths. "There's something I'm dying to try."

"What is it?" Alastor questions as he wipes a few drops of pre-seminal fluid and saliva from the corner of his mouth, his voice wonderfully husky, unfiltered. Behind him, his tail whips frantically from side to side.

I adore him.

"How familiar are you with the concept of “deep-throat” ?"

"Enough."

And there's something intrigued in his eyes. Good.

"Would you like to try it?"

The deer demon holds his gaze for a few moments before nodding and opening his mouth again, waiting, allowing him to take control. Lucifer smiles.

"Let's find out if you have a gag reflex, Alastor, my love."

Alastor shudders, though whether because of that nickname or because the proposition really intrigues him (because he's certainly not having a bad time; he's hard down there between his legs, and every now and then sinks his claws into the Devil's thighs, until golden drops gush out, to keep from masturbating) Lucifer can't know. Nor is it in his best interest to find out. Right now, as he sinks into his mouth, until the tip of his penis rubs against his throat, he's more focused on conducting another investigation.

Nothing, not a single gag. Alastor moans, eyes almost rolling as the Devil sinks into him and his upturned little nose brushes against his partner's belly. Lucifer gasps, aroused, almost pained, before he begins to move his hips roughly. With each thrust, Alastor moans, needy. He digs his claws into his thighs, but never once palms his leg to ask him to stop.

"That's it... There it is, Al, perfect. You're wonderful...” he gasps. "How can you take me so well?" Lucifer asks himself. "It's like the Hells made you for me, love."

Alastor whimpers something, but the sound is lost, throbbing around the Devil's cock, which slips out of his mouth only to go back in until it plunges with one thrust into that tight throat. Lucifer can't help but daydream, as it happens, about whether his ass will be this tight too, or whether Alastor will like or be intrigued to try penetrative sex one of these days. He may just have to ask him to find out.

Maybe he will soon. And maybe Alastor will accept. Or not, who knows. But either way, it doesn't take away from the fact that this is being wonderful.

So much so that it doesn't take the Devil too long to cum. A couple of thrusts and, suddenly, a mumbled warning escapes him. If he thinks the Radio Demon will step aside to let him cum outside, he's sorely mistaken. Alastor clings to his thighs as if his life depended on it and his twisted tongue, wagging as if it has a life of its own and very bad ideas, masturbates the base of his cock as Lucifer cums in his throat.

Alastor swallows. And swallows. He doesn't spill a drop. And, when he breaks away, his gaze just a little lost, glazed, he gasps. Lucifer needs to kiss him to stay alive, and so he does. His mouth tastes like him. The fallen angel never thought it would happen, but, as their breaths pace, he realizes he loves it. 

"Funny, as a cannibal, I thought I knew all the flavors an anthropomorphic body has to offer,” the deer demon crows, voice still hoarse, breathy and rough as he lets Lucifer lift him back onto the bed, lead him to his chest and nuzzle between his ears, the two of them lying against each other, legs intertwined, ”but this one didn't know."

"Do you often eat your victims' cocks?"

"It has happenned a few times, already separated from the body. But it tastes different cooked."

"Oh."

"Yes."

No one's diet is being judged in this hotel. If there are even vegan demons, Lucifer is not about to spoil this moment with a criticism of his partner's culinary tastes. Rather, he remains obsessed with the idea of kissing him as much as he can, and Alastor melts between his lips without any resistance. Almost compliant, he allows Lucifer to touch him and surrenders to his caresses while, with clumsy hands, he tries to respond to them as best he can.

"Did you...” gasps the deer demon, between kisses, his voice still hoarse and unfiltered, now even more "liked it?"

"I should be the one to ask you that, Al,” laughs the fallen angel, before leaving a kiss that smacks of affection, of love, on the tip of his nose. "I loved it. And you?"

"It was... interesting. I think we'll have to do it again to find out if I like it or not."

Lucifer raises his eyebrows. Of all the demons out there, he has to pick the one who would tear out his own liver rather than speak plainly. Nevertheless, he smiles as he glues his body to the deer demon. It is impossible not to notice the erection between his legs, nor how he shivers, the breath suddenly stuck in his lips, when Lucifer brushes his own thighs against him.

"I see...” he murmurs, voice low, in a tone that causes Alastor to swallow, as he runs his fingertips down his skin. "And would there be any chance you'd like to try it the other way around?"

"Now?"

"Do you feel like it?"

On a physical level/physiological needs, clearly yes, but the roads Alastor's mind wanders down are unfathomable. More so than those of his Mother.

The deer demon, even with an ever-plasticized smile on his mouth (another amazing point of the blowjob, to see a different expression on that pretty face) seems to think about it for a while, but ends up nodding. Lucifer has something swelling inside him, but is not so much because of the excitement. It's once again, because of the trust. Because Alastor is giving himself to him today in more ways than Lucifer's ever dared to dream of, and he just wants to make it worth it, so his partner enjoys every second of it.

Though Lucifer kisses him again, his hands are launched on another mission entirely. One of exploration. The King of Hell runs along his side, traces his silhouette with his fingers as he kisses him and reads in a new dialect of Braille his shudders the moment he abandons his mouth to begin to savage his neck. He licks and bites the scar that decorates his throat, the one he has never had the courage to ask about, like the rest of the marks that run along it, and sighs as he feels Alastor swallow. And down he goes, lower and lower, as, that dreaded demon, his Radio Demon, begins to utter the most enchanting moans, the sweetest and the most self-conscious.

And to think that he, Lucifer, is the only one privileged to have been able to hear this... Let Heavens boast all they want with their cherubic choirs, because nothing will match the music that fills their room.

Fortunately or not, the Devil is impatient. Before Lucifer knows it, he finds himself between Alastor's thighs, who spreads his knees apart for him, kissing the inside of his legs, the soft, sensitive skin that draws the sweetest moans from him. There are scars even here, some from bites, deformed and caused by large jaws with sharp incisors. Lucifer also bites, but with a very different intention. He does not seek to tear, only to tempt. And he succeeds resoundingly, he knows it as soon as he sees Alastor arching under his body, hands clutching the sheets, tail lashing furiously back and forth and dick dripping. He is very close to cumming. Lucifer just hopes he has time to get it in his mouth.

He makes sure of it, rather, when he wraps a hand around him and lightly squeezes the base. Alastor practically jumps off the bed.

"I swear to you, my sweet,” whispers the Devil, letting his breath hit the other's cock. The deer demon whimpers, “not even the best of the Lust incubi can match this. You are marvelous." 

"Luce..."

"What have I done to deserve you?"

Alastor opens his mouth to reply, perhaps with whatever sort of witty retort his brain, close to the clouds of an orgasm, may have conjured up. He doesn't quite make it, because Lucifer is quick to swallow his whole dick in one go, and the Radio Demon doesn't know what to do with the plethora of feelings that suddenly numb his senses, nor with the flood that's about to take him away.

This, is what he ponders at least while he thinks that the King of Hell is eating his cock, is pleasure.

And if perhaps such pleasure comes more from the implications of the situation and its mixture with the physical than from the scenario itself... that's no onle else's business. Although he also doesn't have time to analyze it as he would like to. For one thing, because every lick of the Devil is like a tidal surge, a new wave that tears him apart. And, above all, because Lucifer, devoted lover, is determined to make him forget even his own name, so that his lips can only invoke the unholy one of the King of Hell.

He succeeds. And oh, how he succeeds. Alastor moans until he is speechless as that forked tongue wreaks havoc on his being as it coils around his shaft, until it drags him into the shattering orgasm that carries him away. Lucifer, like himself, swallows every drop. 

A few moments after his partner's orgasm, the fallen angel approaches him on the bed with open arms. Alastor, panting but with a satisfied smile on his face, takes barely a couple of seconds to curl up next to him. Both sweaty, both out of breath and both, by the looks of it, quite content.

"As a dessert for dinner,” the Radio Demon comments after a while, ”it's quite fine."

"Why am I worry you mean that literally?"

"Because it's part of my charm."

"That doesn't make any sense."

But Alastor just laughs. And to Lucifer the image is so wonderful, so perfect, that he doesn't care about anything else.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 4 of Translations