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Alastor knew he shouldn’t be mucking about with magical objects.
He knew the dangers, the risks (and rewards) of fiddling about with powers that even he could admit were beyond his scope of control. But, well…
He had been in Hell for a while, okay? He had seen more than his fair share of strange, eerie, odd, and weird, and had harnessed much and more of it to give himself his own powers. He had split his soul to create his own servants, had developed his talents in voodoo to turn himself into the most formidable Overlord to ever walk the streets of Pentagram City. He knew what he was doing, and had complete confidence in his ability to handle whatever was thrown his way.
Which was exactly why he found himself slinking through the abandoned mansion of a previous Overlord, a man bested by his own hand some ten years ago. It had been before his… vacation of sorts, and the fact that the abode had remained untouched for all seven years of his absence was surprising. But then again, not many sinners were interested in power the way he was, or had his natural aptitude for sniffing it out.
It had been his shadow that had alerted him to traces of magic in the decaying mansion. Any magic that the Overlord himself had possessed should have died with him, any residual trace fading away as the furniture collected dust and the roof succumbed to the harsh acidity of Hell’s version of rain.
Alastor had gone to investigate immediately, following his shadow to the exact location. He gave it a pat on its head as a reward for its cleverness and ingenuity, resulting in a pleased chirp before it faded away into the shadows to do… well, whatever it was that it did until he summoned it once more.
Any wards that may once have existed were now entirely erased, the magic faded away like fabric bleached by the sun. He wrinkled his nose as he slipped inside, the smell of mold and decay offensively strong. His keen ears picked up on the sounds of roaches and other vermin scuttling through the walls. Beneath his feet, the rug that had once been lush sent up small puffs of dust with every step.
It was easy to navigate the empty house - he had visited there a few times, when the Overlord in question had been at the height of his power. Alastor had been chummy with the old fellow, but business was business, and when he imagined that he could double-cross Alastor, it had been less than two hours later that his screams began to fill the airwaves. Alastor didn’t even remember his name. Ah, well. He had more important things to tend to.
He made his way down to the basement, where the Overlord had bragged of his private safe and collection of “peculiarities”. His own idiocy had cost him his afterlife, and now it would be benefitting Alastor in more ways than one.
The safe was not hard to find. In the basement, there was a gentleman’s lounge that boasted a bar, a blackjack table, an ornate cigar dispenser, and a massive portrait of the Overlord who had previously owned it all. Alastor rolled his eyes at the simplicity of what was about to happen and tore the portrait away, revealing the large door to the safe.
It took next to nothing for him to use his shadows to slip inside. He snapped his fingers, and a small ball of green energy appeared at his shoulder, illuminating the space in eerie chartreuse-coloured light.
The safe was actually a closet of sorts. Each wall was lined with shelves, containing knick knacks of all manner. Some were clearly there simply for their expense: a golden scepter, a crystal decanter studded with rubies and fringed in gold, and other expensive relics of ages past.
Alastor scanned the shelves, ignoring the priceless treasures as he searched for what he was after. His eyes lit upon a dusty tome towards the back of the safe. When he stretched his powers towards it, he could detect the traces of magic hidden amongst the pages.
Smiling to himself, he started forward, hungry greed rising within him as he imagined what the book could contain. Spells? Incantations? Recipes for poison and blood magic? He could only hope-
He cursed as he tripped over something that was hidden in the shadows on the floor. He stumbled to the side, slamming his shoulder against the shelf to his right. The trinkets scattered across it rattled, several tipping and rolling across the shelf to smash on the floor. Alastor glanced up just as another object began falling, heading straight for his head.
On instinct he snatched the object out of the air, wanting to spare his nose from the bashing it would have received. He held whatever the trinket was up to the light, examining it. It was a small crystal sphere, not unlike something a fortune teller would use. Certainly nothing of significance. And yet, as he looked, a small light seemed to be emanating from within.
He squinted, trying to get a better view. His own light was reflected in the ball, making it hard to see, but when he looked closely, he could make out a small spark of gold deep within the crystal depths. As he watched, the light grew brighter, expanding within the crystal until the entire ball glowed bright enough to illuminate the room. It was also heating up, he realized, growing warm in the palm of his hand.
Alastor had a brief, uneasy feeling of ‘something is wrong’ grip his chest before his focus was caught by an image beginning to take form in the ball. His eyes widened as he watched the light coalesce, until it was showing him…
Wait, was that Lucifer?
He squinted, trying to get a better look. It was Lucifer. The ball was showing him an image of the little king sleeping peacefully in his bed, one leg bare and thrown over the tangle of sheets he had wrestled between his arms and was cuddling like a lover.
Alastor had only a single moment to think ‘What-?’ before golden light suddenly exploded outwards, enveloping him entirely. He shrieked and dropped the ball, but it was too late - he was being dragged down, down, down into blackness, until he thought no more.
•
Alastor woke with a jolt.
He sat up, and immediately regretted it as his head spun, his stomach tumbling turbulently within him and his vision swimming.
With a groan, he flopped back into the sheets, trying to fight the spinning sensation that assaulted his senses. He had to get out of the mansion - needed to summon his shadow to snatch the book, and then he could -
Wait. Sheets?
Alastor flexed his hands, digging his claws into the silken bedding below him. His head was resting on a soft pillow, and the scent of fresh-cut applewood and campfire was filling his nose. His eyes flew open, and he caught sight of the canopy above him: a gaudy white and gold monstrosity that was not his.
Alastor blinked, attempting to get his wits about him. For some unknown reason, he had woken in Lucifer’s bed. Perhaps his shadow had brought him here after he collapsed? Or Lucifer himself? But why? How?
He raised his head, fighting through the cottony sensation that clouded it. His suspicions were confirmed with merely a glance: he was in Lucifer’s room, in Lucifer’s bed, and the little king himself was nowhere to be found.
He threw aside the duvet that covered him and sat up, swinging his feet over the side of the bed. The expectancy of his hooves hitting the floor was so ingrained that he didn’t even think about it - that was, until they didn’t touch the ground.
Alastor glanced down in surprise, then gasped as he took in the sight of his bottom half. Instead of his usual long brown-toned legs, he possessed pillowy white thighs that faded into deep black at the knee. They were tipped with delicate crimson hooves, petite like the man who usually possessed them. Not Alastor’s legs at all.
Alastor’s mouth dropped open, a whistling scream clawing its way up his throat. His hands flew up to grip his hair. He felt the silky strands between his fingers, but that was all: there were no fluffy ears or antlers poised atop his head. Instead, a pair of small elvish ears had replaced them, and Alastor knew if he were to pluck a few strands of hair, they would be gold, not red.
He stood up, stumbling when the sheets tangled around his legs. He landed hard on his knees, and the scream that had been building was jolted from him, bereft of static and more shrill than anything his own voice could produce. His heart was pounding as he quickly scrambled to his feet, stumbling again as he tried to find his balance on the smaller-than-usual hooves.
He staggered to the bathroom, throwing open the door with a bang. He already knew what he would find when he looked in the mirror, but he had to be certain. He gripped the sink for balance so hard that the porcelain cracked, then looked up. Instead of his usual reflection, Lucifer was staring back at him - eyes wide with panic, chest heaving, hair a tangled mess.
Somehow, someway, Alastor had become Lucifer.
Some part of his mind was still trying to deny it, to rationalize what was happening, but the evidence was staring him right in the face. When he blinked, Lucifer’s visage blinked. When he lifted his hand, the reflection did the same.
Alastor’s vision blurred as the reality of what was happening sunk in. Fearing for his sanity, he tore his eyes away from the mirror and looked down at his new body.
He was naked, a fact that he hadn’t even realized until that very moment. Heat rose to his cheeks as he realized he was seeing Lucifer naked. The angel was toned and lean, his pecs defined and his belly flat. His skin was entirely unblemished save for a pair of golden nipples, the navel and scars that Alastor usually possessed gone. Between his legs hung a flaccid cock, an appendage that Alastor was entirely unused to, and one that made him blush wildly and look away.
God above, what happened? And where was Lucifer?
The ball, Alastor suddenly remembered. That stupid glowing orb at the mansion. Somehow, it must have transformed his body into a replica of Lucifer’s. But why? What was the purpose behind such a spell?
He had to get back to the mansion to find out.
He whirled and hurriedly exited the bathroom. There was a wardrobe and a dresser poised in the corner of the bedroom, and he made his way over to them, pulling out the first clothes he laid his hands on. They happened to be a pair of atrocious duck-patterned pyjama pants and a loose fitted t-shirt depicting the name of a band that he did not know. He dressed with quick, jerky movements and headed towards the door, prepared to avoid the other residents of the hotel and somehow make his way back to the previous Overlord’s abode.
His fingertips just barely brushed the doorknob when the door suddenly flew open, causing Alastor to jump back with a distinctly Lucifer-like yelp.
There, standing on the other side of the threshold, was himself.
His mouth dropped open, but there was no sound: he couldn’t even gasp in surprise. He looked up and up and up his body (had he always been this tall?) taking in the lines and contours of himself in an entirely new perspective. His eyes were wild, his hair a mess around his upright, twitching ears. Grasped in his doppelgänger’s right hand was his microphone - in his panic, Alastor had not even realized he was missing it.
“Alastor?” the person wearing his face asked, and there was something about the lilt of his voice; entirely Alastor’s own, but lighter somehow, as if… as if…
“Lucifer?”
“Oh, thank God,” Lucifer said, pressing his hand to his chest in relief. It was strange for Alastor to see himself acting in such a way: the gesture was so unlike his usual stoic self, it was almost laughable. He could feel a note of hysteria rising within him, and he bit his tongue (Lord above, he had forgotten that Lucifer’s tongue was forked) between his sharp teeth to stifle the bark of laughter that wanted to break free.
Lucifer stepped into the room and slammed the door shut behind him. Then, he whirled on Alastor. “What happened? What did you do?”
“Presumptuous of you to assume that it was me who did anything,” Alastor snapped, knowing full well that it was, in fact, his own damn fault.
Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Of course it was you, you ass. I found the crystal ball, so don’t even think about denying it.”
“Would you believe me if I told you it was an accident?”
“What do the kids say nowadays? Duh?” Lucifer quipped, and Alastor felt himself bristling with agitation. “Of course it was an accident. I hardly thought that you swapped us on purpose, unless you were trying to make a grab for my powers or something, which I’ll have you know won’t work, so don’t even try it.”
Alastor hadn’t actually thought of that, and cursed himself once more for his initial panic. He had completely missed the possibilities of what occupying Lucifer’s body could entail, blast him.
“What is this?” he diverted. “And how do we make it stop?”
Lucifer sighed and ran a hand through his hair, frowning when his knuckles bumped against his newly acquired antlers.
“It’s really nothing more than a cheap party trick,” he explained. “A few centuries ago, some sinners smuggled in a book of odd spells from Wrath. Nothing crazy, of course, or else myself or Lilith would have found and confiscated it. It mostly consisted of minor curses and charms; stuff to cause trouble, but nothing truly malignant. A charm from the book seems to have been placed on the ball that switched our bodies. It’s temporary, especially because the magic has been dormant for so long. I think it was probably meant to last a day, but my guess is that it’ll wear off after a few hours.”
“And you can’t break it?” Alastor asked waspishly.
Lucifer shrugged. “I could try, but you of all people know mixing magic with magic is a recipe for disaster. This isn’t some sort of chemical compound, where we would know the effects of throwing my power into the lot. Anything could happen. Maybe the spell would be broken, or maybe it would last even longer, or something even worse could happen. Do you really want to risk it to find out?”
Alastor winced. Yes, he knew much and more about what happened when magic was mixed. “So we just wait it out, then?”
“Seems like it,” Lucifer said. He walked over to the bed, his movements awkward and entirely lacking Alastor’s usual grace and poise. When he reached it he sat down heavily and sighed once more.
Alastor turned and followed him, stopping to lean against one of the bedposts. He was shocked to realize that in Lucifer’s body, he was as tall standing as his usual body was sitting down. Why on earth did Lucifer choose to be so short?
He yelped when suddenly, his body lengthened, shooting him upwards an additional two feet until he was standing at his usual height. He stumbled, only managing not to fall by grabbing at the bedpost.
Lucifer watched him with a nonplussed expression. “Careful there. My powers can be a little, mm… serendipitous.”
“I thought you said I couldn’t access your powers,” Alastor said. He was still swaying slightly, the additional height evidently too much for his still-tiny hooves. With another barely-formed thought, he suddenly popped back into Lucifer’s usual height with a puff of red smoke. “This is ridiculous!”
Lucifer laughed, the sound crackling with static. “Oh, you can use my powers, but only with the skill and ability that you can use your own.”
“That doesn’t make any sense!” Alastor snapped. He was becoming more irate by the second, and desperately hoped that Lucifer was correct in his assumption that the wretched curse would only last a short time.
“Hm, how do I explain this?” Lucifer mused, tapping a claw against his bottom lip contemplatively. “Okay, think of it like this: your soul is like a battery that fuels your powers, right? Our souls got swapped into different bodies, but they still ultimately remain the same. You may have access to my powers through my physical body until we get swapped back to normal, but you still have the same amount of battery you started with. Ergo, you would drain yourself before you even came close to being able to utilize them to their full potential. Whereas I, on the other hand…”
He gave Alastor a wicked grin, and Alastor’s heart dropped.
“Oh no. No, no, no,” Alastor said, shaking his head. “Don’t you dare-”
He yelped as he was suddenly swept off of his feet, black tendrils of shadow rising from the floor to wrap around his legs and arms. The tendrils felt more solid than usual - no longer shadow, but dense black appendages that slithered across his body like snakes, squeezing at him as he was hefted into the air until he was dangling upside down, his face level with Lucifer’s.
“I think I like you like this,” Lucifer laughed, reaching out to stroke a claw along Alastor’s cheek.
“How terribly vain of you, sire, considering I am currently you,” Alastor said peevishly, struggling uselessly against the shadows.
“Sin of Pride, and all that,” Lucifer said with a wicked smirk. “I’ll be the first to admit that seven years of solidarity gets rather lonely. My clones are useful for more than just antagonizing you, you know.”
Alastor felt his cheeks grow hot, and not just because his blood was currently rushing to his head. Was Lucifer truly suggesting…? With his clones?
“Cat got your tongue?” Lucifer teased, an accompanying laugh track echoing from Alastor’s microphone.
Alastor had had enough. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate, willing himself to slip out of the shadows and appear on the other side of the room in a puff of crimson smoke. Instead, the tentacles surrounding him squeezed all the harder, making him wheeze as the breath was forced from his lungs. He opened his eyes to see Lucifer watching him, his smile wide enough to show off the glowing green stitches at the edges.
“Told you so,” he said with obvious amusement. “You may have access to my abilities, but your power is still no match for me.”
“Let me down, Lucifer,” Alastor commanded. He writhed in the tentacles’ grip. They coiled around him, undulating like real living flesh, pinning his arms to his sides and wrapping up his legs.
“Of course,” Lucifer agreed amicably.
Alastor blinked in surprise, shocked that Lucifer had yielded so easily. He had only a moment to feel relieved before he was suddenly being raised and twirled through the air. He was spun so fast he grew dizzy with it, before being deposited in the middle of the bed. His arms were yanked up over his head, his legs pinned down against the bedspread. He writhed with an indignant shout, trying to break free, but the tentacles were unbreakable with Lucifer’s power fueling them. Alastor was trapped.
His chest heaved as he watched Lucifer stand and turn, grinning down at him with a wicked smile that only a short while ago had belonged to Alastor.
“Pretty,” Lucifer hummed, and Alastor felt himself blush. Lucifer was talking about himself, not Alastor, but even still, the single, simple word made his cheeks heat and his heart race. “You know, I seem to recall that I fell asleep naked. Tell me, did you not enjoy that little surprise when you woke up as me? You seemed in an awful hurry to cover me up.”
He reached out, plucking at the pant leg of the pyjama pants Alastor had thrown on.
“No,” Alastor snarled, vehement.
Lucifer tsk’d in disappointment. “Pity. I certainly enjoyed my surprise.”
“What are you-”
Alastor was cut off as Lucifer’s hand withdrew from his leg, his fingers turning to his own thigh. He danced the crimson and black claws upwards until he was tickling over the front of his trousers - Alastor’s trousers, and what lay hidden beneath.
Alastor felt his face flame. Nobody knew about his peculiar anatomy, not even Rosie. And now, Lucifer of all people was cupping his crotch and smiling down at Alastor with a mischievous glint in his eye.
Alastor looked away, unable to continue meeting Lucifer’s gaze. Humiliation welled in his chest, threatening to close his throat and strangle him.
“Hey,” Lucifer said, his voice suddenly soft. Static crackled lightly across the word. “I was only teasing, Alastor. There’s nothing wrong with what you have, I promise. I’m sorry if I upset you.”
Alastor turned his head to look at Lucifer from beneath a thick fan of golden lashes. Lucifer was watching him with a soft expression, the perpetual smile that had been Alastor’s curse since arriving in Hell now erased. It was an odd thing to see, and it made Alastor squirm.
“I just thought, since we have a few hours to kill, why not have some fun?” Lucifer explained with a nervous chuckle. “But if you want to be let go, we can just sit here and wait. I think it would probably be a bad idea to risk going out into the rest of the hotel, though.”
“And your idea of fun is to humiliate me?” Alastor snapped. Lucifer winced, his newly acquired ears flattening against his head.
“No, I swear. It would only be enjoyable if we’re both having fun. I just thought… since it’s only temporary…” Lucifer sheepishly scrubbed at the back of his neck and looked away.
“You… want to have sex with me? In this form?” Alastor asked, shocked. He was even more surprised to realize he was not entirely appalled by the idea.
Lucifer gave him a bashful shrug. “I mean, I’ve had sex with my clones before, but this is something else entirely. I’ve never tried, and I just thought, carpe diem, right?”
“I’m not sure that term applies to the current situation,” Alastor grumbled.
Lucifer laughed, the sound bright and crackling with static. “Oh, I think it very much does apply, but as Angel always says: you do you, boo. Now, I hate to be a bother, but I didn’t exactly hear a ‘no’ yet in this conversation, so…”
He trailed off, looking at Alastor expectantly (and perhaps a little eagerly). Alastor rolled his eyes and let his head flop back against the pillow, contemplating his options.
He had never done anything like this before, and not just being in a different body - he was a virgin through and through, a fact that he had no cause to truly mull over until that very moment. The thought of sex, of someone touching him there, in a place he was so ashamed of, had always made him uncomfortable, but now? Well, the cunt between his legs was no longer in his possession, was it? That was Lucifer’s problem now. While Alastor was never one to submit to any ideals of gender conformity, there was something to be said about the threat of penetration being entirely removed. He had a cock while he was in Lucifer’s form. What would it be like to use it?
“I suppose I am not entirely opposed to the idea,” he finally said, some moments later. “But you will be gentle. Do not forget that I will be re-occupying my body in a few hours. I would like to avoid any injury to it.”
“Oh, Alastor,” Lucifer purred, his eyes going half-lidded. “Are you saying that this cute little cunt isn’t used to anything inside it? That we’ll need to take it slow… that we’ll need to make love?”
If Alastor had been in control of his static, he was sure that it would have screeched in indignation. As it was, he let out an affronted squawk, yanking at the tentacles that still bound him.
“Shut your filthy- mmf!” A tendril lashed across his mouth, silencing him abruptly. He squirmed in agitation, irate with the angel before him.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Lucifer said. He reached out, rubbing soothing circles into Alastor’s pastern. “I’ll be as slow and gentle as you need, scout’s honour.”
He held up three fingers in a mock scout’s salute, and the tentacle across Alastor’s face eased. Before Alastor could even attempt to get a word in edgewise, the thick appendage was sliding across his lips, the tip teasing and tickling at the seam of them. Alastor glanced up at Lucifer, slightly aghast, but Lucifer was only watching him with a heated expression.
Something about the way that Lucifer was looking at him sent a bolt of heat shooting down Alastor’s spine. The sensation was followed by an utterly foreign one: beneath his pyjama pants, the cock between his legs twitched.
He tried to close his legs in surprise, but the tendrils wrapped tightly around his calves and pasterns prevented him. He opened his mouth, intent on saying what, he didn't know, but before he got a chance the tentacle that had been teasing at his lips slipped inside.
Alastor let out a grunt as the smooth appendage stroked over his tongue, twining around the forks in an almost tender caress. His eyes crossed as he looked down, watching its progression as centimetre after centimetre slithered inside. He almost missed the pleased, breathy sound Lucifer made from the end of the bed. He looked up just in time to see the angel press his palm flat to the front of his trousers, rocking his hips up into the pressure.
“Do you like it?” Lucifer asked imploringly.
Alastor swallowed around the tentacle in his mouth, feeling a small line of saliva spill from his lips. He had never sucked a cock before, but he imagined that this was somehow simultaneously similar but altogether different. The tentacle was smooth, with no ridges or bumps to speak of. It wiggled in his mouth with surprising dexterity, poking along his sharp teeth, stroking against his palate and twining with his tongue. He gagged as it pressed in further, the slim tip nudging against the back of his throat.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Lucifer smirked when Alastor let out a small, stuttering moan. “Relax, sweetness. I’m going to get undressed, if that’s okay?”
Alastor’s eyes flew wide from where they had slipped partially closed. Lucifer was watching him with a calm, questioning expression, not a trace of judgement to be found. The tendril in Alastor’s mouth began to withdraw, likely to allow him to provide Lucifer with an answer, but before it pulled out fully Alastor was already nodding.
“Good boy,” Lucifer praised, and Alastor’s cheeks went hot.
Lucifer set about shrugging out of Alastor’s jacket and tugging off his bowtie. He set each item of clothing down with reverent care, a gesture that Alastor appreciated. Next went the leather harness across his chest, then his button-down shirt. Alastor swallowed heavily around the tentacle when Lucifer stripped down to his undershirt, nervousness rising within him. The front was padded slightly, a design he had sewn himself to hide what lay beneath.
Lucifer slowly raised the undershirt up over his head, then folded it and set it aside with the rest. He straightened up, showing off Alastor’s trim frame and the small swell of his breasts.
Alastor gurgled out a protest when Lucifer raised his hand, aiming for his chest. Lucifer ignored him and cupped the sparse flesh of one breast in his hand. His head tipped back with a breathy moan as he rolled the nipple between his fingers, fondling and cajoling it until the usual light brown it turned a deep, dusky pink.
“You ever play with yourself like this?” Lucifer asked, tipping his head back down to meet Alastor’s eye. Alastor shook his head, humiliation making the blush on his cheeks spread to his throat and chest. He hated his breasts in death as much as he had in life, but Lucifer seemed appreciative of them, if the way he plucked and teased at them was any indicator. “Tragic. They’re so nice and sensitive, poor things. They deserve a little love.”
Lucifer brought his other hand up and caressed his tits with both hands, squeezing at the nipples before giving them a hard twist. He moaned, loud and throaty, and Alastor’s borrowed cock gave a kick between his thighs. Never in his life had he made sounds such as the ones Lucifer was making now, but to hear his own voice ringing out in pleasure… it was dizzying.
He jumped when the tentacle in his mouth suddenly writhed, having nearly forgotten it was there as he watched Lucifer pleasure himself with Alastor’s body. The slippery appendage pushed forward, edging towards the back of Alastor’s throat, and he welcomed it with a deep swallow. He moaned as it pushed past his gag reflex and thrusted deep into the confines of his throat, fucking in and out like Alastor imagined a cock might.
Lucifer seemed to have had enough of toying with his chest. He released the small tits in his grasp, showing off how they had gone red and tender-looking. He gave Alastor a wink and reached down, popping the button of his trousers and pulling down the zipper. He shimmied the pants down, leaving him in only the tight crimson boxers Alastor had put on just hours ago.
Alastor whined in embarrassment when he caught sight of the blot of wetness that was already marring the front of his underwear, turning the fabric there blood-red and clinging.
“Don’t be ashamed: it’s natural,” Lucifer reassured when he caught Alastor staring. “Just means your pussy is eager for a little attention. Have you been neglecting yourself?”
Alastor tried to shake his head - he didn’t need attention, he was never as aroused as Lucifer seemed to be while occupying his body - but the tendril in his mouth prevented him. It was thickening, he realized: swelling against his tongue and teeth, beginning to bulge where it was stuffed down his throat. Any larger, and it would begin to cut off his air. He found he wasn’t entirely against the idea.
Lucifer clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Well, that simply won’t do, will it?” he teased. “How about I show you how to treat yourself, hm? Give you a little demonstration?”
“Whmf?” Alastor mumbled around the tentacle, confused. Lucifer only offered him a smile, before he hooked his thumbs into the sides of Alastor’s boxers. He peeled them off and tossed them aside, then leaned forward, bracing his hands on the bed on either side of Alastor’s legs. Alastor looked into his own eyes as Lucifer crawled forward, the claret-red irises smouldering with Lucifer’s arousal. Alastor swallowed around the protrusion in his throat, helpless to do anything but watch as Lucifer slinked forward until he was perched directly over Alastor’s chest, his knees pressed into the bed just below Alastor’s armpits.
“Look at yourself,” Lucifer commanded. “Look at how responsive you can be. How good.”
Alastor whined as he obeyed, his eyes trailing down from Lucifer’s to take in the long length of his own body. All his scars were on display, bright and silvery against pallid skin. The dip of his waist was severe, as were the jut of his hip bones: a result of his never-ending starvation. His thighs were the plumpest flesh he possessed, soft and rounded, and between them…
The cock between Alastor’s legs twitched, rising as it filled out with blood. God, he was getting aroused by the sight of himself. Truly, his vanity knew no bounds.
“How do you like to touch yourself?” Lucifer asked, forcing Alastor’s attention back on him. “Surely, you must have-”
Alastor shook his head, his blush deepening. He had tried, of course, but his efforts had only ever led to frustration. His clit was too sensitive for touch, his hole too tight for penetration from more than a single finger. He rather not even bother than contend with the mess and accompanying vexation.
“Oh, sweet boy, you don’t even know what to do with this pretty pussy, do you?” Lucifer cooed sympathetically. “Luckily for you, I do. Watch and learn, baby.”
He brought his hand down, and Alastor sucked in a breath as those sharp crimson claws neared the tender place between his legs. Luckily, Lucifer seemed to be well-versed in the art of avoiding damage via talon, and was sure to keep his fingers flat as he gently whorled the tips over the dusky, swollen lips.
“Mm, feels good,” Lucifer moaned. He arched his back, practically shoving Alastor’s own cunt into his face. Alastor had never seen himself up close like this before: his eyes widened when Lucifer parted his folds, showing off the delicate pink insides that were already dripping and eager. He blushed as he realized he could smell his cunt: musky and earthy, feminine by only the loosest of definitions. He whined low in his throat and sucked harder at the tentacle in his mouth, wanting to taste.
Lucifer laughed. “Easy, sweetness, you’ll get your turn.”
He continued his ministrations, stroking up and down over the entirety of Alastor’s cunt gently. Soft, slick sounds filled the air, and after a moment Alastor could see the arousal beginning to coat Lucifer’s fingers. It was the single most erotic thing he had ever seen, and the fact it was his own body he was looking at did nothing but add to his ardour.
Alastor writhed on the bed, yanking at the tentacles binding his wrists. He wanted to touch, wanted to taste . He wanted to bury his face between the thighs Lucifer currently possessed and lap at his own cunt just to feel the slick flesh beneath his tongue, to taste his musky sweetness.
Lucifer only laughed at his plight and swirled his fingers faster. Alastor was forced to take out his frustrations on the tendril in his mouth, lashing at it with his tongue while he hollowed his cheeks and sucked it down, groaning when he felt it pulsate in his throat. It was responsive to his every action like a living thing, writhing and wriggling in his mouth, tenderly fucking in and out in short, shallow thrusts.
Lucifer moved his fingers upwards, and let out a jarring yelp when he stroked across the swollen bud at the apex of his cunt. His thighs trembled where they were bracketed on either side of Alastor’s ribcage, clearly overwhelmed.
“You really haven’t done this much, have you?” he panted. He gazed down at Alastor with a dazed expression, his fingers petting gently over his clit. “I can tell by how sensitive you are. God, I haven’t been this sensitive since the Garden.”
Alastor bared his teeth, the innate need to defend himself rearing its head, but Lucifer wasn’t making fun: he was staring down at Alastor with clear adoration, his lip caught between his sharp bottom teeth as he took in the sight of the pinned sinner currently occupying his body.
“I bet I could make myself come in seconds like this,” Lucifer mused. “Would you like that? To watch your own cunt come for me?”
Alastor nodded, his eyes wide. Lucifer smirked; then, with a distinctive flex of his hand, pressed his fingers back down to his clit. He choked on a moan, his back arching up towards the stimulation. He adopted a quick, ruthless pace, circling over the needy bud with no reprieve.
“Alastor, Alastor,” Lucifer moaned. His eyes fluttered shut, his brow furrowing with pleasure. Alastor whined and rocked his hips up, his cock aching with the need for friction. He had never known what he looked like in the throes of pleasure, but Lucifer was giving him a front-row view, and he was helpless to deny his vanity (nor did he truly want to).
With his other hand, Lucifer reached between his thighs, slipping two long fingers inside himself. The effect was immediate: his back bowed so severely there was a distinctive snap as the vertebrae yielded to the pressure, and then he was coming, radio static shrieking as he cried out his bliss. His cunt gushed around his fingers, dripping down his knuckles to land across Alastor’s chest in fat drops.
Alastor felt crazed. He was thrusting his hips up into nothing, whining like an animal around the makeshift gag in his mouth. Vaguely, he realized he was gnawing on the tentacle, practically rending at the shadowy appendage with vicious desire, but it was unyielding even to the dagger-like points of his teeth. He was yanking so hard on his bindings that his wrists were beginning to ache, but he didn’t care. He needed Lucifer - needed him now.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Lucifer cooed. He was coming down from his high, his cheeks flushed and thighs twitching. “You’re so gorgeous when you’re desperate for me.”
Alastor snarled around the tentacle, trying to convey his displeasure and desire. Lucifer only tutted and reached out to stroke Alastor’s hair, smearing slick into the sweaty strands. He tightened his fingers, pulling Alastor’s head back to lay flat against the pillows before leaning over him and pressing them together nose-to-nose.
“I suppose you’ve waited long enough,” Lucifer whispered as he mouthed at the tentacle trapped between Alastor’s lips. He looked up at Alastor from beneath his lashes, those sinful crimson eyes glowing like hellish embers. “Tell me, would you like to take your own virginity? To fuck, and be fucked in turn - to feel this tight little cunt stretch around your cock, taking you so well like it was made to? Does that sound good, pretty buck?”
Alastor moaned, his eyes rolling back as he imagined it. Yes, he wanted that; everything that Lucifer described and more. He had never had any desire to lose his virginity before, the thought of giving up control and allowing someone to have him in such a manner unfathomable. But now, he would be the one in control, even if it was Lucifer taking the reins. He was so aroused, so desperate, he felt he would have agreed to anything if only to relieve some of the pressure from his aching prick.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Lucifer purred, and Alastor nodded rapidly in affirmation. Lucifer leaned back, straightening up and scooting down until he was perched over Alastor’s lap rather than his chest. A brief, accidental brush of friction over Alastor’s cock made him choke, his nostrils flaring as he struggled to maintain even the slightest semblance of control.
Lucifer snapped his fingers, and Alastor’s clothing melted into shadow. He was left bare in Lucifer’s body, his blush like a golden sunrise spread across his heaving chest. Between their interlocked legs, his cock stood proudly at attention, curving up over his navel-less belly and drooling thick strands of precum onto the porcelain skin below.
Lucifer reached out and trailed a single crimson-tipped claw down the shaft, making Alastor flinch. His cock bobbed in response, visibly twitching with arousal.
“So eager, and all for me,” Lucifer said happily. He shifted up onto his knees, spreading his legs wide and balancing himself with his hands on Alastor’s thighs so that Alastor could get a full view of what was happening. Then, he brought his hips down in a slow, sensual roll.
Alastor groaned as his cock met the slick folds of Lucifer’s borrowed cunt, the amber-hued head of it parting the delicate flesh and catching across Lucifer’s swollen clit. Everything was so wet, slicking them both as they rocked their hips, working themselves into a frenzied rhythm.
“Mm, gonna come again,” Lucifer moaned, his head lolling on his shoulders. “Love your pussy. So responsive.”
Yes, yes, yes, Alastor chanted in his head, unable to say the words aloud. He felt the clench and flutter of Lucifer’s cunt over his cock, and then Lucifer was coming again with a bitten-off cry, his hips jerking against Alastor’s as he rubbed his clit against Alastor’s - Lucifer’s - their cock. The sensations were mingling and coalescing until Alastor could no longer tell where he ended and Lucifer began: they were one in the same, sharing their bodies and their magic and their pleasure.
Alastor’s breath hitched when the head of his cock caught against Lucifer’s hole. Their eyes met, and an understanding passed between them. Slowly, carefully, Lucifer rocked his hips downwards, pressing the tip of Alastor’s cock inside.
Alastor threw his head back with a deep, animalistic grunt. His fingers spasmed where they were trapped above his head, the urge to grip Lucifer’s hips and yank him down onto his cock strong within him.
“You’re so tight,” Lucifer moaned. “Such a sweet virgin pussy. I’m going to ruin you, baby.”
He was right. Everything was so tight, his pussy molding to Alastor’s cock like a glove. A gentle rock of Lucifer’s hips slipped another inch inside, and Alastor writhed, his back bowing with the need to be buried as deep as he could go into the velvety heat of his own cunt.
Suddenly, the tentacle in Alastor’s mouth disappeared. He made a disgruntled noise, the release of pressure against his tongue and throat abrupt and startling, but before he could recover Lucifer was leaning down and capturing his lips in a kiss.
It was messy, and wet, and slightly deranged, but Alastor kissed Lucifer back frantically, their mouths meeting in a collision of tongue and teeth. Lips split and blood poured, and they both moaned when they tasted themselves on their tongues. Lucifer pulled away, throwing his head back and screaming up at the canopy when, with one final roll of his hips, he seated himself fully onto Alastor’s cock.
They stilled for a long moment, both of them attempting to regain their breath. “‘M sorry,” Lucifer finally mumbled, breaking the silence. “You’re going to be sore.”
“Don’t care,” Alastor slurred. “Want to be. Want to feel you when we’re done and we've returned to normal.”
“Whatever you want, sweet boy,” Lucifer agreed. He shifted his hips, tentatively rocking himself on Alastor’s cock. Alastor whimpered, his eyes squeezing shut against the overwhelming feeling. Lucifer was impossibly tight and warm around him, and already he could feel his orgasm simmering just below the surface.
Lucifer adopted a slow, smooth pace, rolling his hips back and forth to savour the full length of Alastor within him. Once he was adjusted he began to bounce, lifting and dropping himself with a small cry and blat of static each time he bottomed out.
“Lucifer,” Alastor moaned, worshipful. His eyes were still closed: he couldn’t bear to look, lest the sight of himself tip him over into release. Instead, he did his best to match Lucifer’s rhythm, planting his feet in the bedding and thrusting his hips up, encouraging the throaty moans and high cries to continue to pour from Lucifer’s lips.
“Alastor, I’m close,” Lucifer panted. “Fuck, baby, you’re doing so well. So good for me, my perfect boy.”
Alastor cried out, the ball of pressure within him tightening to an unbearable degree. The praise circled his mind over and over as he pumped his hips upwards once, twice, and then he snapped, coming with a shout that might have been a scream and flooding his own cunt with hot seed. His back bowed off the bed, lifting Lucifer as the angel sobbed out a moan and followed him into orgasm, his claws scratching at Alastor’s thighs and knees in his rapture.
Alastor’s hips collapsed back onto the bed, taking Lucifer with him with a gasped out “oof!”. They both winced when his cock slipped free, cum drooling from Lucifer’s cunt to drip across Alastor’s thighs.
“Here, let me,” Lucifer said, and he turned to sprawl across the bedding at Alastor’s side. For the first time since arriving in Hell, Alastor felt small as Lucifer vanished the remaining tentacles and gathered him into his arms. He turned them on their sides, entirely encompassing Alastor’s temporary smaller frame with his long limbs.
“You okay?” Lucifer murmured into Alastor’s hair.
“Mhm,” Alastor hummed. “What about my body? I do hope you intend to heal any lasting damage.”
Lucifer laughed lightly. “Not that there was lasting damage to begin with, but anything that could be healed has been. As soon as the charm has run its course, you’ll be left pleasantly sore and with newfound knowledge. You’re welcome.”
“Harhar,” Alastor said sarcastically. “Is this where I insert the joke about Eve with the apple?”
“Don’t you dare,” Lucifer groaned, dipping his head so that his breath fanned across the back of Alastor’s neck.
Alastor shivered from the sensation and relaxed into the warm embrace of Lucifer’s - his - arms. Heavens, how had he never realized how bony he was? It was like cuddling with a pile of kindling.
After a few minutes, Alastor began to doze, satiated and warm. Of course, that was when Lucifer took the opportunity to break the silence.
“You know, I just realized something,” he said. Alastor grunted tiredly in response, and he felt more than heard Lucifer chuckle behind him. “It’s Friday.”
“What on earth does that have to do with anything?” Alastor mumbled. He cracked one eye open and leaned back, looking at Lucifer over his shoulder.
Lucifer smiled down at him, the corners of his eyes going soft in a way that was odd to see on Alastor’s face, but not unwelcome. He leaned in, planting a kiss between Alastor’s brows.
“Nothing. Nothing at all.”