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If asked to choose between going to prison and being shot in the head, Alastor would spend a long time contemplating the two options before picking up a gun.
It wasn’t that he feared retribution for his crimes- Alastor was unabashedly a monster and he knew God would one day judge him for it. It was the indignity of prison that Alastor despised: the lack of any and all privacy, even while using the bathroom. In comparison, a bullet to the head was respectful.
Some would say he was being dramatic, that his life in prison was much easier than it had any right to be, and they’d be right. Compared to most murderers, he got a cushy ride.
Normally when a serial killer is convicted they’re singled out by the other members of the prison and forced to live in solitary confinement for their ‘protection.’ Prisoners in high-level facilities had their own moral codes: the more egregious the crime, the more the other prisoners despised the perpetrator (pedophiles typically didn’t live long in prisons).
Alastor might have gotten a pass due to the fact his victims weren’t easy targets, such as sex workers or runaway teens; he only went after the scum of the Earth- the most corrupt of those in power. A murderer with those ethics was usually lauded within prisons, but Alastor’s cannibalistic habits made him an anomaly.
The men in the maximum security prison had yet to reach a consensus on how to treat Alastor when the decision was wrenched from them by ‘The King of the Cellblock.’
Lucifer Morningstar, of the Morningstar Mafia Family, served his life sentence in the same cellblock Alastor was assigned to. It was a media circus seven years ago when the man was made scapegoat for his family’s various crimes. Alastor had been very pleased to learn he ended up in the same cellblock as The Morningstar, it showed how high-level the authorities considered him.
The two didn’t interact much until after an altercation in the cafeteria.
It happened on the sixth day of Alastor’s incarceration. He hadn’t been trying to cause a stir, but his Mama always said bad deeds led to trouble and he racked up beaucoup karma for the killings he gleefully doled out.
“Hey! Cajun Cutthroat!” A man called out the awful name the media saddled Alastor with (he was creole, not cajun!).
Alastor simply waved a hand towards the man. He had been waiting in the food line for ten minutes and wasn’t about to step out for someone who couldn’t bother to remember his actual name.
“I’m talking to you!” The man pushed over a few of the inmates standing in front of Alastor. They didn’t seem pleased but none argued with him; he was probably a big deal in the cellblock.
“Do you mind? I’m waiting eagerly for breakfast.”
“I got a bone to pick with you!” He said with a far too loud voice for this early in the day, “Were you the asshole who killed Jeremy Felspar?”
“Hmm,” Alastor looked at his nails, “Maybe!”
Alastor was technically only caught for the murder and subsequent devouring of three people. The rest of the murders labeled as his were based off circumstantial evidence and his modus operandi. The police actually underestimated his kill count, which tickled him pink.
He could have confessed or given information up about where bodies were hidden to improve his prison sentence, but he refused. Alastor found it more fun to play coy with the police and various journalists who were convinced they could ‘uncover the truth.’
Multiple people approached him asking about the fate of their missing family members or friends. Alastor loved teasing those people the most, it brought him a certain joy seeing someone afraid to receive an affirmative response be crushed by receiving none at all. How exciting that there was such a person residing in the same cellblock as him!
“Don’t fuck with me! You better fess up now or I’ll beat a confession out of you!”
“What was the name you said again? Jerry Feldspar?” Alastor asked, as if he would forget his fifth victim’s name.
“Jeremy. Felspar.”
“Let me think,” Alastor let his eyes drift and rubbed his chin pensively, “Did he live in The French Quarter, overlooking the Mississippi River?”
“Yes! That’s him!”
“Sorry, never heard of the guy!”
The man screamed and swung his fist. Cackling, Alastor dodged the attack.
Everyone in the cafeteria quieted down and gathered to watch the fight. This confrontation would most likely set the tone for Alastor’s life sentence and he intended it to be a good one.
“Let’s dance then!” Alastor grinned.
He avoided the man’s next sloppy swings and assessed his target before countering. A palm strike to the nose sent the man reeling backwards. Based on the loud crack sound and nosebleed, Alastor broke his nose.
Alastor wrapped his foot behind the man’s heel, tripping him as he moved back. Teasingly, Alastor placed his hands behind the man’s back, catching him in a mock dip.
“You have two left feet,” Alastor joked.
The man shot a fist right into Alastor’s solar plexus.
Alastor wheezily laughed and dropped the man; his head made a loud thunk sound when it landed on the ground.
Staggering back to his feet, the man screamed and wildly threw his fists. Alastor hummed his favorite part from ‘The Blue Danube Waltz’ by Johann Strauss II and circled the man. This forced the man to constantly pivot to follow Alastor, making him lose track of his surroundings.
Alastor let out uproarious laughter when the man misjudged Alastor’s movements, punching a wall instead of the cheeky killer.
While the man doubled over from the pain in his hand, Alastor draped himself over his back. He wrapped his arms around the man’s neck as if they were about to have a playful piggyback ride. Except those don’t usually end in one of the participants passing out.
Alastor squeezed his arms tightly. The man didn’t go down easy, but Alastor didn’t expect him to.
He thrashed, reached back to unsuccessfully grab Alastor, and slammed his back against the wall in an attempt to dislodge Alastor. It was slightly annoying but nothing compared to the arduous task of wrestling gators Alastor practiced growing up.
Eventually the 250 pounder Alastor caught collapsed to the ground. Alastor held on for a couple seconds longer to make sure he was unconscious before letting go.
He gave an exaggerated bow to his audience of fellow prison mates; they rudely did not give him a standing ovation.
When Alastor walked back to the breakfast line, everyone moved out of his way. What a lucky day, Alastor was front of the line for food!
Arriving late, prison guards finally swarmed the cafeteria. They questioned a few bystanders but none would admit what knocked out their fellow inmate. Either the cellblock had an ironclad rule on no snitching or Alastor had cemented his place in the hierarchy high enough that his peers didn’t want to ruffle his feathers.
Food in hand, Alastor began moving to his usual table.
From the corner of his eye, he could see someone approaching. He assumed it was another gang recruitment attempt, something Alastor was very uninterested in- he had nearly lost it when the white power gang tried to convince him, a light-skinned black man, to join them.
However, as the inmate got closer, Alastor saw it was the notorious Lucifer Morningstar.
“I’d like a word with you,” Lucifer didn’t introduce himself, it wasn’t needed.
“Alright, but the word you pick better be a good one!”
Lucifer chucked and looked derisively at Alastor’s food tray, “Is that what you’re eating?”
“Seeing as it’s the only option served, yes, I think I shall be indulging in this culinary disaster!”
“I can do you one better,” Lucifer gestured for Alastor to follow him. Curious, Alastor did so.
Lucifer led Alastor up stairs, normally inaccessible to prisoners, to a balcony guards use to oversee the cafeteria. The guard who was supposed to be there was absent and in his place was a foldable table covered with a tablecloth.
As the two sat down, another prisoner appeared with two plates of food. He placed it before them and carried away the breakfast Alastor literally fought for.
To be pedantic, Alastor carefully studied the meal. Though by no means five-star restaurant quality, the over-easy eggs were cooked perfectly, the bacon was good quality (though cooked more than Alastor preferred), and the pancakes were deliciously fluffy. The meal was easily better than anything else Alastor ate in the cafeteria.
Lucifer waited until they both finished eating before saying, “I’m going to lay my cards on the table: I find you extremely attractive. I’m going to pursue you.”
“Goodness, all you’ve seen me do is fight. I shudder to imagine the type of foreplay you’re interested in.”
“We can get to that,” Lucifer winked, “I’ve seen dozens of prison fights but none have enthralled me like yours. You smiled the entire time, even after taking that hit.”
“You’re never fully dressed without a smile!” Alastor’s unmoving smile soured, “And you’re never going to get me to debase myself with you!”
“I’d never ask for you to debase yourself… Unless that was something you were into it,” Lucifer cut his eyes towards Alastor. Seeing his companion’s disgusted look, Lucifer pivoted, “What I’m offering is to take care of all aspects of your life. Physically. Emotionally,” Lucifer raised his eyebrows, “Sexually.”
“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
“What about financially? I can provide a lot more than three appetizing meals a day.”
Alastor scoffed, “I don’t know what the little playthings you’ve acquired in the past were like, but you’ve made a mistake thinking I’d be one of them.”
He braced himself to fight the men pathetically hovering behind Lucifer or the Morningstar himself, but Alastor encountered no pushback as he left the table to rejoin the general population below.
The gall of the wealthy shouldn’t surprise Alastor anymore at this point in his life. Still, he was shocked when his old, quiet roommate was pulled out of his cell and his presence was completely replaced.
Alastor watched as multiple men came in carrying various belongings, making the already tight space more cramped. He shooed out someone who was carrying a large armchair (ridiculous, how did they expect that to fit?). While he was distracted, several men slipped boxes under the bunk-bed, filling that space completely. The only new addition to the room he didn’t oppose was the privacy curtain that blocked the toilet from view.
The men cleared out and Lucifer Morningstar strolled into his, apparently, new room, “I had them upgrade the mattresses, but the option is always there to replace the bunk-bed with a nice full-size.”
Alastor snarled, “I thought I was quite clear on my no.”
“Technically you didn’t say no.”
“Hm, I thought the stereotype of prison was that forced fornications occurred in the showers.”
Lucifer lifted his hands up, “I swear I’m not gonna force anything! One meal wasn’t enough to show you the full benefits of a partnership with me. You seem like the type that needs to be wooed.”
“You seem like the type I would have hunted for sport.”
“Good thing we have nothing but time for me to change your mind!” Lucifer said brightly.
His ideas to change Alastor’s mind all revolved around throwing money at it.
Alastor’s commissary suddenly overflowed, far exceeding the paltry sum Alastor earned in the job he was assigned (which only paid a few cents an hour). Anytime Alastor made a purchase from the commissary, his balance was immediately topped back up to the maximum amount.
This strategy backfired for Lucifer. Rather than choosing to join Lucifer for meals on his special balcony, Alastor bought a hotplate from commissary and began making his own food. His Mama didn’t raise a slouch in the kitchen; Alastor became adept at turning the cafeteria slop into enviable meals.
Undeterred, Lucifer tried gifting Alastor with presents that were normally unobtainable inside prison. He was so proud when he smugly gifted Alastor a smartphone; Lucifer’s forlorn face was incredibly satisfying a week later when he found the phone still sitting unopened in its box.
Points to Lucifer though, he did eventually figure out things that Alastor would actually like. A fully stocked spice rack with more versatility than the three spices commissary sold (salt, pepper, garlic powder), hair styling products that actually worked for Alastor’s hair type, and a record player. Not knowing and not caring why the guards haven’t confiscated it yet, Alastor had records playing nearly all hours of the day.
Though these gifts were appreciated, they did little to endear Lucifer personally to Alastor. He didn’t become fond of the man until they began talking in their cell at night.
Both men found it easier to open up to the other while laying in the bunk-beds. Perhaps not seeing the other’s face made it easier to be vulnerable without fear of judgment. Or perhaps whispering to each other late at night gave the illusion of privacy, an impossible commodity in prison even with Lucifer’s wealth.
“You can let me know, I promise I won’t tell anyone!”
“No Lucifer.”
“Please!” Lucifer whined, “I wanna know how many people you killed!”
“How many people have you killed?”
"... Directly or indirectly?”
“For simplicity's sake, directly.”
“Sixteen.”
Alastor replied in a singsong voice, “I’ve killed more than you!”
“WHAT?” Lucifer leaned over the edge of his bed to look down at Alastor, “No way! You worked alone right? And you got away with that many murders?”
“You’re breaking the spirit of our nighttime talks,” Alastor lightly chided.
Lucifer huffed but laid back down on his bunk, “I’d never be able to get away with a quarter of the murders I did without my family.”
“Technically neither of us got away with our crimes.”
“Oh I did!” Lucifer darkly laughed, “My brothers fucked up all the time and had to get bailed out of jail a bunch. Dad had a few judges in his pockets- no issue there. It was the Feds closing in on Michael that made everyone freak out. The Feds were never gonna give up without taking at least one of us down, so someone in the family needed to take the fall.”
“Why did it have to be you specifically?”
“I was the black sheep of the family. I fell in love with the wrong girl and was cut off. Things were good between me and Lilith. Until they weren’t. She took our daughter away because I was just… useless. I was deeply depressed, doing nothing but making toys all day,” Lucifer took a breath.
Alastor didn’t dare interrupt, he suspected Lucifer rarely, if ever, told this story.
“My dad approached me with a deal: I give the Feds what they were gunning for and my family would take care of me and my daughter for the rest of our lives. I thought it was perfect, a way to support Charlie while rotting away like I already was. Plus, I’d finally be back in my family’s good graces.”
“Are they holding up their side?”
“I think? Basically all the guards are on The Morningstar payroll and they provide me anything I ask for. My dad insists he’s taking care of Charlie, but, I dunno.”
“Do you ever see your daughter?”
“No,” Lucifer was quiet for a long time before he said, “Lilith wouldn’t bring her to visit. She’s an adult now... I guess she doesn’t want anything to do with her mafioso father.”
“It seems unbelievably cruel of your dad to ask this of you. Surely there were members of your family without children who could have taken your place.”
“Maybe. I was a shit dad anyways.”
“You lost the opportunity to improve,” Alastor pointed out.
“Hmm…”
For some ungodly reason, Alastor felt the need to share his own history with Lucifer- most likely to slightly balance the scales of their lopsided relationship, “I have regrets. I ruined the wonderful relationship I had with my mother.”
“Do you wish you never killed-”
“No! Don’t get it twisted, those people deserved far worse than what I did to them!”
Lucifer chuckled, “I read the media coverage on the ones you were caught for; they were real pieces of work.”
“Mhm, yes indeedy! I don’t regret the murders. I regret getting caught. I felt invincible and got careless. The look in my mother’s eyes…” Alastor trailed off. During his sentencing, his mother looked at him with more horror than she ever looked at his father with. He’ll never forgive himself for allowing her to know she raised a monster.
“Has she visited you here?”
“No.”
Neither talked for a while. Alastor was drifting off when he heard Lucifer speak up,
“I don’t have playthings.”
“What?”
“When we first met, you thought I wanted you to be another in a line of playthings. I haven’t had a relationship with anyone since Lilith.”
“I… don’t understand. Why were you interested in me then? You didn’t know anything about me.”
“My depression only got worse since I was incarcerated,” Lucifer admitted, “Watching you has been the first time I felt anything but dull boredom or tiredness. You excite me.”
“Hmm,” Alastor considered Lucifer’s words, “I’m the first entertaining thing you’ve seen in seven years? High praise. Though I must question why you jumped to wanting a sexual relationship.”
“You excite many parts of me.”
Alastor kicked the underside of Lucifer’s mattress, “Don’t be vulgar!”
“I’m just stating facts!” Lucifer snickered, “You reawakened my libido, you need to take responsibility for your actions!”
“You’re right,” Alastor teased, letting his words linger before continuing, “I should start changing privately in the showers, save your eyes from the temptation.”
“No- hold on! My eyes look respectfully! Don’t hold them accountable for the reactions of other body parts!”
The two joked and ribbed each other until they fell asleep. Alastor was sure their neighbors wanted to scream at them to shut up, but none had the balls to confront the mafioso or serial killer.
They slowly became friends.
The two started a book club where they talked over the rest of the members to argue their obviously superior literary opinions. They danced together to the contraband record player- both fighting over who leads. They dined on the balcony overlooking the cafeteria, alternating between meals served by Lucifer’s private chef and meals Alastor prepared himself.
One day Lucifer asked that they share a ‘special’ lunch in their cell together. Alastor agreed, he was no longer suspicious the man was trying to pull a move anymore.
Lucifer vibrated with excitement, “I wanted no one else around when you ate this!”
“Was it something you cooked yourself? Don’t want to embarrass yourself if it’s abysmal?”
“No~” Lucifer beamed at him, pulling two sealed tupperware containers out from under the bunk bed.
Alastor was going to snark that he’d prefer to eat cafeteria food, when Lucifer popped the lid on the tupperware and a familiar smell hit him.
“Is that- how?” Alastor didn’t wait for an answer or a spoon.
He yanked the tupperware out of Lucifer’s hands and slurped the contents. It tasted like home- it was his mother’s jambalaya. Tears gathered in his eyes, for once they had nothing to do with the spice level his mother packed into her food.
Alastor stopped himself from guzzling the jambalaya like a dog eating out of their bowl; he wanted to savor this. He cradled the tupperware gently, took a spoon from Lucifer, and enjoyed the first good home cooked meal he had in months.
Lucifer practically had hearts floating around his head as he watched Alastor’s reaction. He spooned up a bite from the second tupperware but immediately flinched from the heat (Alastor had gone soft; he halves the spices he normally used when he cooks for Lucifer).
Lucifer grazed through the second tupperware before offering it to Alastor when he noticed his longing look.
Alastor was glad they ate in the pseudo-seclusion of their cell, he wouldn’t want the general population see him lick the tupperware clean.
“She works in a restaurant in a nearby town. I can have my men pickup to-go orders whenever you want,” Lucifer said, “I think she’s building up the nerve to visit you. She drives to the prison every other week and sits in the parking lot before going back home.”
Alastor didn’t have the mental capacity to consider his mama wanting to visit (Did she want him in her life again? Or was she preparing to say goodbye forever?). He’d unpack those thoughts later when Lucifer wasn’t looking at his face.
“I… I can’t repay this,” Alastor muttered.
“I don’t need you to! I’m sorry the way I started our friendship- I swear that’s all I want from you now.”
“So, you’re passing on making passes at me?”
Lucifer laughed, “I guess I am. I like being around you and I want you to feel the same.”
“Are you no longer interested in me?”
“God no, but if you-”
Alastor cut Lucifer off by kissing him. The lingering taste of jambalaya added a sizzling spark to their lips.
Alastor pulled back, “If this is some sort of trick, I will stab you.”
Lucifer breathed, “I wouldn’t mind exploring knife play.”
Alastor grimaced but kissed him again.
A mature relationship would progress at this point by discussing boundaries and the feelings of both parties; Alastor and Lucifer chose to instead make out heavily on the bottom bunk-bed.
It was easy to undress when they were both intimately familiar with the identical uniforms they wore. They both paused in their mutual groping to shimmy the top half of the baggy jumpsuits off their shoulders. With each of their hurried movements, the bed frame squeaked, announcing their business to the rest of the cellblock.
They shuffled around on the bunk-bed until they landed in the most comfortable position: Alastor lying on his back with Lucifer on top of him.
“Looks like these are our natural positions,” Lucifer joked.
It was vindicating when he tried to lean back and slammed his head underneath the top bunk.
“Oww!” Lucifer complained, “Can we please replace the bunk-bed with a full-size now?”
“Then how will we have our nightly talks? Those bonded us initially,” Alastor tugged Lucifer down- strictly to make sure the clumsy man didn’t repeat his stupid action, not because Alastor wanted him closer.
“We can start a new nighttime tradition,” Lucifer buried his face in Alastor’s neck, kissing his exposed skin.
“You’ll need to convince-” Alastor gasped; Lucifer sucked on a sensitive part of his neck.
“I have nothing but time,” Lucifer licked a stripe from Alastor’s shoulder to his jaw.
They didn’t get further than light petting that day, both only shrugging their jumpsuits down enough to reveal their chests. Alastor was too shy to do more in their open cell during daytime- the two would be visible to any inmates or prison guards that walked by.
Going forward, not much changed in their relationship, except anytime the two had a moment alone they were immediately fondling each other.
They kicked the rest of the members of the book club out, now when they met to argue over books they’d occasionally be interrupted by Lucifer pinning Alastor down on the library’s reading table. Their dances included more sensual touches- Lucifer had been holding himself back as he now proved to be able to physically lift Alastor. Their shared meals took on a more romantic feel, Lucifer would often scatter rose petals on top their foldable table.
Lucifer frequently walked into shared common spaces, such as the TV room or the activities room, and commandeered them for ‘date nights.’ He’d set up a watchman outside (usually another prisoner he paid off), then get frisky with Alastor. Eventually the other inmates started leaving when they saw Lucifer and Alastor enter a room together.
As months passed, Alastor became more comfortable with public displays of affection and allowed Lucifer to replace their annoyingly loud bunk-bed with a full-size mattress. The new bed was ridiculously too big for their cell: it made it impossible to pass from one side of the cell to the other without crawling over the mattress. This would have bothered Alastor if Lucifer couldn’t provide him with anything he desired.
Alastor asked that they get a second cell to store their belongings; the next day their neighbors were reallocated. Alastor asked that they have extra time outside; the guards let Alastor out into the yard whenever he asked, even without Lucifer by his side. Alastor asked that he enjoyed his mother’s cooking once a week; like clockwork tupperware appeared in their cell (his mother still hadn’t visited, but Lucifer thinks she’ll come soon. Her drives to the prison were happening weekly now).
Their stay in prison was more theater than punishment. As long as the two never tried to escape or let anyone outside the prison know the level of freedom they received, they could act as they pleased.
The only time the guards flexed their authority over Lucifer was insisting all prisoners needed to be in their cells for the nightly lockdown.
“Oh no!” Lucifer dramatically bellowed, “You’re locking me up with a sexy serial killer!”
He leaned against the bars in their cell with his arms draped out to desperately ‘beg’ the prison guard to reconsider.
“If you’re not careful, your star inmate will be nothing but bones tomorrow!” Alastor joined in from his position lounging on their full-sized mattress.
The guard locking their cell simply ignored them. They’ve done this bit every night for weeks; it’s never gotten their jailors to laugh but, like everything else, Lucifer and Alastor did this purely for their own amusement.
As the guard carried onto the next cell, Lucifer called out, “He’s going to eat me! Have some humanity!”
Alastor snorted when he heard the retreating guard grumble, “I hope he does. It’d shut you up.”
Lucifer gasped, “Just for that, I’m going to be the one eating him now!”
“I don’t care!”
Lucifer turned around, “Can you believe how these guards treat me? Like an animal!”
“You have it harder than anyone, darling,” Alastor teased.
Lucifer perked up, “Darling? That’s a new nickname!” He crawled on the mattress to lay next to Alastor, “Does this mean we’re dating now?”
“We’ve been sleeping together- both literally and carnally- for months.”
“That doesn’t answer my question,” Lucifer gave a cheshire grin, “Are we boyfriends now?”
“Eugh, that’s such a juvenile term.”
“Partners?”
Alastor considered it, “Seems a bit serious to describe our relationship.”
“Okay, you’ll be my Sugar Baby and I’ll be your Sugar Dad-”
“Actually I rather like the ring of partners, let’s use that term.”
“Sure thing!” Lucifer snuggled into Alastor’s side, “Partner~”
Alastor abandoned the book he had been too distracted by Lucifer’s shenanigans to read. He stroked Lucifer’s hair and whispered, “I also would not be adverse to ‘lover.’”
“How risque of you sir,” Lucifer murmured into Alastor’s ear, causing him to shudder.
“Speaking of risque, have you made a decision for tonight?”
“YES!” Lucifer’s loud shout made Alastor flinch, “Sorry! Um, yes I know what I want.”
“Do tell,” Alastor chuckled. He was pleased he had all of Lucifer’s attention.
A week ago, he noticed Lucifer doom scrolling through articles about his own sentencing on the interwebs. Alastor interrogated a few of the older prisoners and learned Lucifer tended to spiral around the anniversary of his sentence date.
Not wanting the man to obsess himself into anguish for obvious reasons (because that would make him boring, obviously, no other reason), Alastor proposed a wager to distract him. If Lucifer could acquire a specific, rare vinyl record, then Alastor would participate in any sexual act of Lucifer’s choosing.
The wager worked beautifully. Tomorrow was the anniversary, but Lucifer didn’t appear to realize that. He instead focused all his energy on successfully procuring the record.
Earlier today, after he presented the requested record to Alastor, he promised their night would be ‘one to remember.’
Suddenly Lucifer seemed sheepish, “You can tell me no. I have a backup if you hate my first idea-”
“Lucifer, you’ve paid for my services,” Alastor’s eyes hooded, “Tell me how I can repay my Sugar Daddy.”
Alastor knew that would incur a strong reaction, but he expected embarrassment or fumbling from his partner; he didn’t foresee Lucifer jumping on him with a wild look in his eyes. As Lucifer crashed their lips together, Alastor had the fleeting thought that he should refer to Lucifer as ‘Daddy’ more often.
They passionately kissed for a few breathless minutes.
When Lucifer ended the kiss, a long strand of saliva trailed between them. Lucifer broke the strand by licking his lips, then leaned close to whisper, “I want to take you against the bars. Show off what no one else in this prison is allowed to touch.”
“Uhhh,” Alastor stuttered in response.
“We don’t have to if you’re uncomfortable,” Lucifer reminded.
Alastor bit his lip. He was too proud to take the offered out; he promised to fulfill whatever Lucifer desired and Alastor was nothing if not a man of his word.
Still, it would be a brazen display of their sex life.
Of course everyone in the cellblock already knew the two frequently danced the devil’s tango; the other prisoners would have to be blind, deaf, and brain-dead to never notice the two’s relationship. However, although most prisoners probably assumed it, there was no confirmation that Alastor was on the receiving end of his tumbles with Lucifer (which was the position he preferred).
If Alastor let Lucifer fuck him against the bars, everyone would definitively see Alastor as his bitch.
So far, the prisoners have shown restraint in mocking Alastor for his hookups, but he knew they wouldn’t hold themselves back after seeing Lucifer plow into him.
Alastor refused to back down, but he could potentially divert Lucifer’s attention by reminding him of his impending anniversary. That would send Lucifer in a tailspin, getting Alastor off the hook for any sexual activities for at least a few days.
“… Very well,” Alastor sighed. He cared too much about this ridiculous to man to make him miserable. Which was almost more embarrassing than the deviant act the two were about to perform.
“Yippee!!” Lucifer cheered.
He got off the mattress, lifted Alastor into his arms, and twirled them around until Alastor was standing, facing out the bars with Lucifer behind him.
Slowly, so slowly Alastor could stop him if he wanted, Lucifer shimmied Alastor’s jumpsuit off his shoulders, below his waist, and down his legs.
“No underwear?” Lucifer gasped at having an unobscured view of Alastor’s ass.
Alastor lifted his legs to remove the jumpsuit from his body completely, “Are you going to complain about the easy access? Or are you going to eat me, as threatened?”
“No complaints here!” Lucifer dropped to his knees so fast, it produced a loud crack sound. The noise drew the attention of the men in the cell directly across theirs.
The two men both leaned against the bars of their own cell and stared at the naked Alastor; one with hunger in his eyes, the other with curiosity.
Ignoring the unwanted audience, Alastor’s hands grasped onto the bars of his cell. He’d need the stability once Lucifer went to work.
Despite knowing it was coming, Alastor let out a sharp hiss when Lucifer spread his cheeks and plunged tongue first into him.
White-knuckled, Alastor’s grip on the bars tightened. Damn Lucifer’s expert tongue, Alastor couldn’t help but let a handful of small moans and whimpers escape.
Each sound he couldn’t stifle only drew more eyes from across the cellblock. More and more men gathered at the edges of their cells to see the fearsome serial killer stripped bare and crying out.
“Get some Morningstar!”
Alastor closed his eyes. Fuck. The hollering floodgates opened. Every man baring witness to his shame had something to say about it.
“Hell yeah! Finally we get to see it!”
“Spank that asshole good!”
“Aw, shy thing ain’t even hard yet!”
“Hahaha, with that tiny prick no wonder Cutthroat’s the bottom!”
“Jesus, out in the open? Have you no shame?!”
“Shut up! I can’t see from my angle, at least let me hear it!”
Lucifer begun pumping a few fingers inside Alastor. Although his hands were as skillful as ever, Alastor’s cock remained soft. He couldn’t enjoy his lover’s attentions with the mass of derogatory comments slamming into him.
Deeming Alastor fully prepped, Lucifer stood, wrapped his arms around Alastor’s shoulders, and tucked his head into Alastor’s neck (a feat which Alastor was reasonably certain Lucifer had to stand on his toes to accomplish).
“Do you want to stop?” Lucifer whispered loudly enough to be heard over the din of the prisoners’ hooting.
“I-” Alastor hesitated. He desperately wanted to end this display, but he knew that would only increase the jeering. Everyone in the cellblock would see him as not only a whore, but a cowardly one.
“Do you see me as…” Alastor coughed, “Would you agree… Hm, what, what would you do if one of the men called me your bitch?”
“I’d destroy their life,” Lucifer instantly replied.
“But… but it’s technically true.”
“No,” Lucifer turned Alastor’s head so he was looking at him, “You are my partner, my beloved, the spark in my life. Anyone who looks at you poorly will receive a swift reminder.”
Lucifer nuzzled into Alastor’s shoulder, then moved out from behind him.
The hollering prisoners quieted slightly when they saw The Morningstar more clearly.
Leaning out as far from the cell as possible, Lucifer shouted, “I WON’T TOLERATE DISRESPECT TOWARDS MY PARTNER. DON’T FORGET: THIS IS MY HOUSE! EVERY ONE OF YOU IS MY BITCH!”
Dead silence.
The inmates nervously shuffled in their cells, uncertain if they could continue watching or if that would lead to consequences.
Alastor stared at his partner, “Lucifer.”
“Yes baby? Was that too much or-”
“Take me now,” Alastor rasped. He was suddenly, desperately hard. Alastor adjusted his stance to press his face further into the bars and stick his ass out more.
Not bothering to take off his own jumpsuit, Lucifer unzipped it just enough to pull his dick out.
Grabbing Alastor’s hips, Lucifer pushed inside. Both men moaned simultaneously.
Lucifer’s pace was brutal and Alastor’s firm grip on the bars was proven necessary. Flailing back and forth, barely preventing his head from slamming against the bars, Alastor no longer held himself back. He let Lucifer (and by extension the cellblock) hear every breathy noise and whiny moan his body produced.
Letting his eye’s wander, Alastor was now the one staring down the prisoners who were sheepishly avoiding his gaze. A few were staring at his twitching body, probably making note of the bump Lucifer’s dick created while he was fully sheathed, when those inmates noticed Alastor’s eyes on them, they flinched and looked away.
There was one man across the block who was masturbating furiously; when Alastor looked at the man, he picked up his pace. Alastor observed him for a few seconds, noting his facial features for future revenge. The masturbating man's roommate was leaning away from him and looking apologetically at Alastor- the roommate would be happy when he became the sole occupant of that cell.
The few remaining, less boisterous, shouts were all complimentary.
“Wish I had a boy that tight!”
“Damn, Lucifer must be hung!”
“Thank you for the show!”
Lucifer groaned and readjusted their position, pulling Alastor more upright and pushing his hips closer to the bars. After a few more thrusts, he asked, “You close sweet-thing?”
“Yes~” Alastor mewled.
“Good,” Lucifer pressed Alastor flush against the bars and grabbed his flopping dick. He positioned Alastor’s dick to be pointing outside the cell.
“What, are you-” Alastor wasn’t able to finish talking before he came with a loud scream. His dick spurted cum onto the walkway outside their cell.
Panting, Alastor looked at his mess smearing the ground, most of it outside his reach to clean.
“A guard is probably going to slip on that tomorrow.”
“They should be so lucky,” Lucifer grunted, continuing to thrust into him.
“They’ll, ohh, they’ll blame me if they’re injured.”
“I’d just pay off their medical bills then.”
That was apparently what Lucifer needed to finish. Both men shuddered as Lucifer filled Alastor.
“Don’t worry,” Lucifer laughed and kissed Alastor’s shoulders, “Anybody gives you guff, I’ll take care of them.”
“I am a serial killer you know,” Alastor muttered, but made no move to push Lucifer off or cover himself, “I could kill anyone that bothers me.”
“I know, but I like taking care of you. And I think you like it too.”
Alastor was unable to deny that claim.
The next day, Alastor walked through the cellblock with his head held high. He flashed a grin at anyone who stared at him too long and they'd turn away immediately. No one dared insult him, especially with Lucifer glaring at them by Alastor's side.
Only one man was daring enough to approach Alastor to proposition him: the man that was masturbating.
Alastor barely had enough time to laugh in the man's face before Lucifer was on him.
Lucifer wailed on the man, continuing to smash his fists into the man's face until his hands were smothered in blood.
Everyone stood by, watching Lucifer pummel a man to death for several minutes. The guards on duty suddenly had something interesting to focus on somewhere else, none of them even glancing in Lucifer's direction.
Once he was satisfied, Lucifer stood up, snapped his fingers, and commanded, "Throw this piece of trash away."
A pair of guards appeared and carried the corpse away.
Then Lucifer turned towards Alastor and held his blood soaked hand out to him. Alastor easily slipped his hand into Lucifer's and the two began an impromptu dance on top of the man's spilled blood. They both laughed and kicked the blood to smear it against the floors and walls.
The state of Louisiana had sentenced both Lucifer and Alastor to a life sentence in prison. Neither could have imagined how happy they'd be to have that much prison time.