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Lucifer’s life was going great. His job was great. His kid was great. His love life… well. Okay, his life was great except for the divorce, which was seven years and nine months ago. He still thought about Lilith every single day. And some people would say it a little pathetic that he hadn’t so much as been on a date in almost eight years, but he had been focused on co-parenting Charlie! And she had turned out perfectly! So perfectly, in fact, that his sweet, wonderful, amazing, perfect daughter had been offered scholarships all over the country! And, AND, she had turned them all down to stay close to her favorite parent. She was attending Hazbin Community College for free (Thanks, Dad!) by taking advantage of his employee benefits, while Lilith covered room and board in the designated campus apartment complex.
Of course, Lucifer had offered to let her stay with him, she already had a whole room at his place, but she had said some nonsense about wanting the “authentic” college experience. Why she wanted that was a mystery to Lucifer, but he wasn’t going to deny his baby anything. And Charlie came over on the weekend to visit… and he’d review any papers she had due.
And work was good. Work was great! Even though the kids at the college were nothing like his Charlie. And most of them were completely zoned out on their phones or computers. Did they think he couldn’t tell they weren’t paying attention? And none of them did the assigned reading — which made it really hard to have a damn discussion about the novel they were supposed to read. Yeah... work was fine. Fall break was coming up, and he’d managed to get out of teaching any of the introductory composition classes! They had been foisted onto the newbie whose name he couldn’t remember, Peterton? Pendulous? And that loser Boudreaux.
He fucking hated that smug piece of shit. And to make things worse, he was Charlie’s favorite professor! Every time she came to visit, she always had some new anecdote from his class. It was “Professor Boudreaux said this” or “Professor Boudreaux thinks blah, blah, blah.” He was forced to smile and nod along while his precious little girl praised the biggest asshole in the entire English department. He knew she wouldn’t believe him if he told her the man argued against every idea Lucifer had ever had, disagreed with each opinion, and found a way to be wrong every time he spoke!
“Did you hear me, Dad?”
“Uh-huh,” Lucifer said through gritted teeth.
She placed her hand over his, “Dad. I know it’s outside of your comfort zone, but you should consider it.”
“Consider it,” he repeated. He had no idea what she was talking about. “I mean, considering never hurt anyone, right?” He laughed nervously.
“Exactly! And Mom’s been dating for years.”
“What?” Lucifer shrieked. He dropped his coffee mug and it clattered onto the table, spilling his drink. “Shit!” He scrambled over to his cluttered counter and grabbed a handful of paper towels. Charlie followed suit. He quickly sopped up the mess and checked the mug for cracks. Lucifer sighed when he saw it was fine. It was the one Charlie had given him for Father’s Day last year.
Once his mug was safely back in the sink and the table was dry, Lucifer sat back down with a knot in his stomach. Had Lilith been dating for years? Years.
It shouldn’t be surprising. She was smoking hot, successful, and charming. She was a total catch. They weren’t married anymore. She had every right to move on. And Lucifer’s inability to get over the divorce wasn’t her problem. None of his problems were hers anymore.
“She’s seeing someone.”
Lucifer froze.
Charlie giggled. “It’s been almost a year, so I think they’re…”
Charlie’s words faded out as Lucifer processed what he had just heard. Dating? Almost a year… Serious?
He felt like the ground had opened up beneath him and he was falling.
“Dad?”
Lucifer snapped his gaze to Charlie.
“You okay? You look a little spaced out.”
“Ha! Hooboy! Yupperino! That’s what I get for spilling my coffee!”
She shook her head. “All I’m saying is you should give love another chance.”
Lucifer’s heart clenched. He couldn’t. Lilith was —
“You and Mom were so young and I know I was an accident —”
“Whoa, whoa, there, Missy! A surprise, not an accident.” He reached over to pull her into a hug. “You are the best surprise ever and your mother and I have no regrets when it comes to you. Never doubt that.”
“I know, Dad. What I’m trying to say is that you were both so young, and because of me, you made choices that weren’t in your best long-term interest.”
They had been young. 22 and 23, starry-eyed and ready to chase their dreams. Lucifer was in his first year of his Master’s of Literature at Columbia, honing his writing. Lilith waitressed full-time while she chased her dreams of Broadway success. Despite careful prevention methods, Lil never missed a dose, Charlie came along. They agreed it was inevitable, what with Lucifer being the eldest of 13.
Despite the surprise, they had agreed he would finish school and Lucifer wrote and submitted a novel as part of his thesis. He was a New York Times Best-Selling Author by the time his diploma came in the mail. He went on talk shows, press tours, and to conventions. He wrote three more novels. He became a guest lecturer at Colombia. He was asked to speak at colleges all over the US.
And while Lucifer was chasing his dreams, Lilith had put hers on hold to raise their daughter, taking temp gigs and voice-over work. Then as Charlie became more independent, she’d gone to in person auditions and was cast in Broadway’s Chicago.
Lucifer had been so swept up in his own success that he didn’t notice the light had gone out in Lilith’s eyes until it was back.
He turned down all future appearances so she could devote herself to the role and, seven months into her run as Go-to-Hell-Kitty, a casting director asked her to audition for his new movie. She spent 3 months filming Certainty, which went on to sweep the Oscars, winning her Best Supporting Actress in her breakout role.
Less than a year later, she’d served him with the divorce papers. She wanted to move back to her hometown to be closer to L.A. Lucifer followed, of course, he wasn’t going to live across the country from Charlie and settle for only seeing her on holidays and over the summer.
Meanwhile, his publisher kept asking him when his manuscript would be done, but every time he sat down to write, the words fled, leaving him feeling cold and hopeless.
Unable to write, Lucifer applied for an adjunct position at Hazbin Community College, and they stumbled over themselves to hire him. No writing or research was required for the position. Just teaching. The hours were good, the pay was stable, and he could be home with Charlie on the weekends and when Lilith was filming. It was all he needed.
“So, Mom is moving on and I think it’s high time you did too.”
Lucifer frowned. “I don’t know, Charlie.”
“When I asked about dating again, you said you’d consider it.”
He winced. “Those… sure are words that I said.”
Charlie put her face in her hands and grinned up at him. “You’re only 42 years old, Dad. You deserve to have love in your life.”
Fuck. The sharp knowledge that Lilith had moved on made his heart hurt. He shook his head.
“I have all the love I need right here, Sweetheart.”
“Daaaaad,” Charlie groaned.
Lucifer beamed.
“I’m not asking you to get on Tinder. I’m asking you to be open.”
“Okay, okay,” he agreed, lifting his hands in surrender, “I’ll be open. I guess.”
The office next to Lucifer’s had been occupied by Dr. Zestiel, the department’s Shakespere stan, until the dinosaur finally retired and Boudreaux was hired on. And that pompous sourpuss had hated Lucifer straight out of the gate! For no reason! All Lucifer had done was ask if he was the new adjunct! He wasn’t in charge of keeping track of who did or didn’t have a PhD. How the hell was he supposed to guess that a man who looked barely old enough to earn a bachelor’s had earned a doctorate and published several papers.
He waltzed around in a full three-piece suit with an honest-to-God cane like he thought he was Oscar fucking Wilde. Practically every inch of his rich tawny skin was covered in red-hued suits, even on the hottest days. And those big brown eyes of his, always blinking innocently at Lucifer behind his dumb oval glasses perched on his perfectly straight bridge with that gently upturned tip. With his stupid shiny chestnut curls always styled to look like they were carelessly perched atop his head. He probably spent hours getting ready in the morning, trying to look hot or something.
And he was a menace! In his seven years of teaching, Lucifer had rarely ever run into his office neighbors, but Boudreaux was like some kind of shadow demon, possessing the uncanny knack for sneaking up on Lucifer and scaring the shit out of him. If he let his guard down for a second, there was Boudreaux, towering over him, grinning like the cat that caught the canary. Or if Lucifer was ever deep in thought, preparing for class or grading papers, Boudreaux could somehow sense it. He’d pop his head into Lucifer’s office to call out, “Good day, Morninglark!” It never failed to startle him, making him drop or scatter whatever he was holding. One day, Lucifer had made the mistake of leaving his office unlocked while he’d run out to grab lunch, and when he came back, his favorite mug — the one Charlie had given him on Father’s Day 2016 had gone missing. He knew his asshole coworker was behind it.
Lucifer, of course, wasn’t above petty revenge. See, Boudreaux’s office had been Lucifer’s when he had first started, and it was a good ten square feet smaller. He’d snagged the bigger office next door when Zestiel moved out. He hadn’t meant to keep the old key; he just forgot to give it back and only remembered he had it when he saw the new employee unlocking the door. It would have been weird to turn it in at that point, so he just left it on his key chain, right next to the cute little “graduate duck” key chain Charlie had given him when he’d been hired. And yes, he had bought a Jeep when his last car died. And, no, it was not to justify buying a new rubber duck every other weekend when he had Charlie.
Regardless, he had a key to Boudreaux’s office and every time that lanky loser messed with him, Lucifer would sneak in and fuck up Boudreaux’s shit. The guy was a neat freak. Absolutely meticulous in the placement of every item in his space. His bookshelf was probably organized by the Dewey Decimal System. Lucifer started by shifting every single item on his desk to a different angle. The next time, he had used an entire sticky pad to draw ducks and slap them haphazardly on every flat surface. Once he’d slipped in after Boudreaux had left for the night and messed with his personal library by selecting books at random and flipping them pages out on the shelf. That one had taken over an hour, but the glare Boudreaux had given him the next time they crossed paths still brought a smile to Lucifer’s face.
Lucifer was packing up his computer to head to the meeting when he heard a thud followed by Boudreaux’s voice.
“Ah! Fuck! Shit!”
Lucifer laughed. He’d never heard the guy swear before and never would have expected it from him. He seemed far too uptight to even know the words, let alone say them.
Lucifer walked over to Boudreaux’s office and tugged on the doorknob. It was locked.
“Did you break something in there?” Lucifer asked.
“If you must know, I fell.”
Lucifer laughed harder. He was tempted to get his key and unlock the door, just to get a peek at Boudreaux splayed out on the floor, but that would give the game away.
“Your concern for my well-being is greatly appreciated,” he said flatly.
“No concern, just entertainment,” Lucifer responded and he settled down. “Do I need to let Adam know you’ll be missing the meeting because you’re icing your ass?” Lucifer giggled at his own joke.
“I’ll be along shortly. Thank you so kindly for checking on me,” Boudreaux grumbled.
Lucifer was still chuckling when a bang on the door startled him into silence.
“You’d best hurry along, Morninglark,”
Lucifer glared at the stupid nickname. So what if he wasn’t a morning person?
“Or there won’t be any donuts left to bolster those love handles of yours.”
Lucifer gasped and wrapped his arms around his waist.
That was a low blow. Sure, he had a sweet tooth, but he did yoga every morning, and yeah, he didn’t have a six-pack or anything, but love handles?
“Oh, fuck you, Rude-reaux,” he sputtered as he stormed back to his office. He could still hear Boudreaux’s obnoxious cackling as he grabbed his laptop and thermos and stormed down the hall.
There were still plenty of donuts when Lucifer arrived, and Boudreaux’s comments about his love handles almost kept him from taking one, but it was October and there was an apple cider donut, so how was he supposed to say no to that? He snatched the last one and sat down to savor it as the professors in the department chatted excitedly around him. He only barely refrained from humming happily as he ate. This donut had no right to be so good. He had no idea why the shop had gone with Evil Donuts, but they could call themselves whatever they wanted when they made shit like this.
Adam was just pulling up the slide show for the meeting when Boudreaux showed up. Lucifer frowned and looked around the table.
The only seat left was right next to him.
“Apologies for my tardiness,” Boudreaux said as he walked into the room with his stupid, fancy cane. He sat down with a polite smile and a nod like he was some charming, upstanding gentleman instead of the spiteful asshole that cut down and refuted every statement Lucifer ever made.
Dr. Sera Phim, Dean of Literature, nodded. “I’m glad you could make it, Alastor.”
“Whatever,” Adam, their incompetent Department Chair, said through a half-eaten donut. “First up,” The slide show flipped to a picture of students crying at report cards, “Per university policy, grades need to be updated before fall break, so get ‘em done before you slackers go home and get wasted. Or get wasted and then grade. I don’t give a fuck.”
Lucifer was constantly astonished at Adam’s complete lack of professionalism. But everyone knew that complaining about him wouldn’t do any good since his father was the university president.
He clicked to the next slide, which had Boudreaux’s faculty picture next to the logo for the National Teaching & Learning Exchange Conference.
“Alastor is presenting at NTLX over fall break, and good old Lucifer volunteered to go to the conference with him to take notes and report back for us.” The group offered Boudreaux their congratulations and well wishes.
Lucifer had absolutely not volunteered. He would much rather be spending his daughter’s first-ever fall break with her. Apple picking, or at a pumpkin patch, or maybe a corn maze, but noooooo. Everyone else was either tenured or had seniority, so Lucifer drew the short stick and was going to spend four days trapped in Minnesota with his worst enemy.
“Too bad it’s over a break,” Adam said. “It would have been nice to have some peace and quiet without the ghosts of Derrida and Foucault over here constantly bickering.”
The room burst into laughter and even Boudreaux smiled. Lucifer hated the department’s nicknames for them. Both Derrida and Foucault had valid arguments and viewpoints worth considering. Boudreaux was an idiot every day of the week and twice on Sundays.
Adam sighed heavily as he finished laughing. “Aw, fuck, I crack myself up. Anyway, Lute has all the details sorted out or whatever, so keep an eye on your email.” He clicked to the next slide. “Upcoming department activities! Woo!”
Lucifer’s laptop pinged as he received Ms. Lute’s email. As much as everyone knew Adam was incompetent, everyone also knew that Jessica Lute, his personal assistant, was the one really running the literature department. Lucifer frequently wondered how much she got paid to do his job and hers. He clicked through the attachments and links.
They had a non-stop flight leaving at nine in the morning, which wasn’t bad. It would only take 30 minutes or so to get to LAX from his house, but he should still probably leave before seven, just to beat rush hour. Their hotel looked decent, clean enough, and Lute had attached a PDF. Lucifer opened it.
It was the conference schedule. A highlighted conference schedule. Two classes every session were marked, clearly indicating those were the ones that he and Boudreaux were supposed to attend. Oh, and look at that, to prevent any arguing, she’d helpfully color-coded it. Lucifer frowned. Classes ran for an hour and forty-five minutes. That was sooooo long. He could barely make it through their hour-long department meetings.
Lucifer tuned back in to hear Adam talking about the student food pantry opening back up, then dismissing everyone back to “whatever bullshit they were up to today.”
There was an unhurried shuffling of laptops, napkins, and coffee cups as the gathered faculty filed out of the room.
Boudreaux didn’t lift a finger. He never did. He’d sit there, smiling and bidding everyone a “good day” as they left, apparently in no hurry to leave after the meeting. It was suspicious. But Lucifer never stuck around to find out why he insisted on being the last one out of the room. That would imply he noticed the loser, or worse, cared. Which he most certainly did not.
He stuffed his laptop into his bag and hurried out of the room, all too happy to leave Boudreaux and his smug smile behind.
Once he was back in his office, he grabbed a rubric off the stack he’d printed for the last paper he’d assigned, opened his laptop, and pulled up the first submission he needed to grade. It was only a measly 6-8 page critical response, but it was one of sixteen. Lucifer was determined not to take any grading home tonight.
On page three, he reached for his coffee and came up empty. He searched his desk and —
Shit! I left it —
“Missing something?” Boudreaux asked as he poked his head into Lucifer’s office.
“Why?” He snapped. “Did you take something?”
He threw his head back and laughed uproariously, striding uninvited up to the desk with Lucifer’s favorite tumbler in his hands.
“Where did you get that?”
“Precisely where your flighty little bird-brained self left it. Sitting at the table in the conference room.” Boudreaux set the bright yellow tumbler down with the cheerful duck shouting, “You quack me up,” facing Lucifer. It had been Charlie’s birthday present for him when he’d turned 39.
He clutched the thermos away from Boudreaux and hugged it to his chest. Then he raised his eyebrow suspiciously at the other man.
“You’ve done something to it, haven’t you?”
Boudreaux rolled his eyes and waved his hand at Lucifer. “I’m hardly one to pull a prank so childish. Hmmm.” He tapped his chin. “That must be why you’re always messing around in my office.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Lucifer said haughtily.
“You’re the size of a child, so it’s no wonder you behave like one!”
“I am not the size of a child,” Lucifer snapped. “Five foot seven is a perfectly normal adult height! You’re just freakishly tall!”
“Yes, you keep telling yourself that,” Boudreaux said as he turned on his heel and meandered away.
“Fuck you, Rude-dreaux.”
“Still a terrible nickname, little Morninglark” he sing-songed as he left.
“I’m not the one who started calling people by stupid nicknames,” Lucifer muttered. “Stupid, smug loser.” He twisted the lid off his tumbler and peered inside. It still looked the right color of creamy brown. He sniffed it. It didn’t smell weird. He took a cautious sip. It tasted fine.
Huh.
Had Boudreaux just done something nice for him?
Lucifer shook his head.
Whatever. It didn’t matter. Right now, he had a stack of papers to grade and no time to spare. He put the lid back on his coffee, took a sip, and set to work.
Lucifer was halfway through paper number seven when an alarm on his phone went off. He blinked himself back to awareness and glanced at the alarm.
Lunch with Charlie
“Lunch with Charlie,” Lucifer shouted. He slammed his laptop shut with more force than necessary, jumped up from the desk, and silenced the alarm.
He grabbed his phone, wallet, and keys, locked his office door, and hustled to the student union building to meet up with his daughter for their weekly lunch session.
Slightly out of breath, Lucifer searched the crowded Medrano Center for Charlie. She was standing by the serving lines as usual and waved when she caught sight of him. He rushed over to greet her.
“Hey, Char-Char. How were classes today?”
“Great, so far! Today in Lit, we discussed Gloria Anzaldua’s, ‘How to Tame a Wild Tongue’.” Her grin nearly split her face. “Professor Boudreaux always leads such good discussions. He’s really pushing us to think about things in ways we never had before.”
“Uh-huh,” Lucifer said with false enthusiasm as he ushered her to the food line.
Here we go with the Boudreaux hero worship again. Though Anzaldua’s a good choice. Maybe his taste isn’t all bad.
“My project is really coming together and I’ve been getting really good feedback from Professor Boudreaux.”
“That’s great, Sweetie!”
“He told us today that he’s presenting at the National Teaching and Learning Exchange conference over break. Isn’t that the same one you’re going to?”
Lucifer groaned. “It might not be too late to back out,” he said hopefully. “I think I’m coming down with something.” He fake-coughed.
“Dad,” Charlie said with an eye roll.
Lucifer bent over. “Ah, my back,” he cried. “All those hours grading papers at my desk seem to have caused a sudden and catastrophic injury. I guess I’ll just have to stay home and spend my break with my daughter.”
She pressed her lips together to keep herself from smiling and Lucifer stood back up.
Charlie folded her arms across her chest. “You’re not seriously considering backing out, are you?”
He winced at the disappointment in her tone.
“No! Of course not! I was just joking! Besides, you’re all grown up and have better things to do than go apple picking with your old man during your fall break, right?”
“Absolutely not,” Charlie said firmly.
Lucifer’s eyes went wide.
“We are not going to stop my favorite fall tradition.” She nudged him with her elbow. “It will just have to wait until you get home.”
Lucifer smiled at his perfect, wonderful daughter and changed the subject before he got too misty-eyed.
“How are your other classes going?”
She grimaced. “In philosophy today, we’re discussing God and John Hicks' ‘The Problem of Evil’.”
“Hoo boy! That’s a doozy. Do you need some help gathering your thoughts?”
She nodded rapidly. “Yes, please.”
The pair spent the rest of their lunch in deep discussion, then parted ways. Lucifer stood too long watching Charlie go, marveling at how much she’d grown and praying she’d never stop wanting him around.
Lucifer left his house at 6:15 in the morning, stopped at his favorite local coffee shop for breakfast and a pumpkin spice latte, then headed to the airport. He arrived at LAX around 7:15 and parked in long-term parking. He spent the following hour crawling through security at a pace that a snail would call glacial. Once he was through and fully redressed, he gathered up his belongings and began the long trek to his gate.
When he finally arrived, he was slightly too warm and the plane was already boarding. He hastily pulled up his ticket and wandered over to the line of passengers waiting for their group to be called. While he waited, he glanced around, looking for Boudreaux. He didn’t see him. And it was hard to miss the guy; he was like seven feet tall.
Maybe he’s not going to make it.
He should have been elated, but instead he felt a sharp sting of disappointment.
Figures he would get me roped into this stupid conference, then back out at the last minute.
“Now boarding group eight,” a pleasant voice said over the loudspeaker.
The gathered crowd formed into a line and, one by one, they scanned their tickets and walked through the gate toward the plane. Lucifer scanned the seat numbers while checking the overhead bins for space. He scored a spot right above his seat and slid his suitcase into the bin, then looked down. Boudreaux was sitting in the middle seat with an e-reader in his hand.
“Boudreaux?” Lucifer asked.
“Having trouble recognizing me off campus?” He asked.
Lucifer scoffed and sat down in the aisle seat he had been assigned.
“No. I just didn’t see you out there.” He waved vaguely in the direction of the boarding gate as he took his seat.
“It’s a wonder you manage to see anything from all the way down there.”
Lucifer rolled his eyes and set his leather messenger bag under the seat in front of him.
“Another short joke? Ha, ha, how very clever of you. Is this how you’re going to be the entire trip?”
Boudreaux raised an eyebrow. Lucifer folded his arms across his chest.
“It’s bad enough I have to go to this boring conference instead of spending my break with Charlie, but being forced to spend the entire weekend with you? That’s just cruel!”
“Boring conference?” Boudreaux asked.
“That’s what you took away from that statement?” Lucifer muttered.
“Odd, I seem to remember you rather enjoying academic conferences in the past.”
“Uh… what?”
“As a best-selling author, you were a rather popular speaker, weren’t you?”
Lucifer flushed hot with embarrassment and a stab of longing and shame lanced straight through his heart. That wasn’t him. Not anymore. Sera was the one who had recruited him, who knew about his writing. If any of the other faculty members had suspicions about his past, they never brought it up, and he’d faded into obscurity long before any of his students would have heard about him.
Of course, there was no use denying it. Boudreaux had found out. Maybe Charlie had said something. She had no idea he couldn’t stand her favorite professor and Lucifer intended to keep it that way.
“That was a long time ago.”
“I see.”
He could feel Boudreaux’s eyes on him a moment longer as he stared down at his own hands, then mercifully, he turned his attention back to his e-reader. Lucifer turned his gaze toward the people inching down the aisle toward their seats and let his gaze soften, one person bleeding into the next as he thought back to when he was writing and speaking.
He'd felt alive.
He frowned at the shoes moving past.
When was the last time he felt like that about something that wasn’t related to Charlie?
His gut twisted when he realized he couldn’t remember.
“Excuse me,” a quiet, feminine voice said, her accent clearly British. Lucifer looked up to see a teenage girl, not much younger than Charlie, with long purple hair with shaggy bangs covering one of her eyes. She was dressed in mostly black from her beanie to her large, shiny combat boots, with a few traces of gray and purple sewn on. “My seat is back there.”
She was hunched in on herself, eyes on the floor, as if she was mortified to have to speak to either of them. Lucifer smiled warmly up at her and stood.
“No problem,” he said gently. She reminded him of Charlie when she had gone through her moody emo phase as a teenager. She’d tried to dye her hair blood red using a Kool-Aid packet and locked herself in the bathroom sobbing hysterically when it came out pink instead. Lucifer had taken her to Lilith’s hairdresser and sat for nearly two hours and paid far too much money to get the desired color. The small smile and quiet thank you he’d gotten had been worth it.
Boudreaux awkwardly crawled out of the too-small space like some spindly cryptid, then the poor girl took her seat. The person in the aisle behind Lucifer huffed in annoyance while Boudreaux slowly folded himself back into place. Lucifer sat down and buckled his seat belt.
Boudreaux folded his hand in his lap and turned his gaze toward Lucifer.
“I have a proposal.”
“It better come with a pretty big diamond.”
“Do you ever take anything seriously?”
“Not when it comes to you.”
Boudreaux sighed heavily and shook his head. “Since we are going to be in close proximity for the next several days, I was going to suggest we try getting along nicely and see how that goes.”
Lucifer barked out a too-loud laugh, causing several people on the plane to look at him. He flushed and glared at Boudreaux. “Is that something you’re even capable of?”
He smiled brightly and tilted his head to the side. “You have no idea what I’m capable of.”
Why did that sound like a threat?
“Right, so a truce?”
“Precisely.”
Lucifer thought it over. If he were honest with himself, he kind of liked his weird little rivalry with Boudreaux, but going into this conference as a unified front might make the whole thing feel like less of a chore.
“Alright. I’m in.”
Boudreaux smiled and it was genuine and warm. He held out his hand for Lucifer to shake and, good Lord, the man had the most beautiful long fingers! Lucifer shook the strange thought from his head and shook Alastor’s hand to seal the deal.
They weren’t 30 minutes into the nearly 4-hour flight when Alastor told Lucifer he needed to get up. Lucifer bookmarked his copy of Amanda Gate’s latest thriller, “Everywhere You Go,” to step into the aisle so they could awkwardly dance around one another until Boudreaux was free.
Lucifer sat down and went back to reading. He hadn’t even finished the page before Boudreaux was back and they repeated the process in reverse.
He did it again 22 minutes later.
Then again, 40 minutes after that.
“Do you have a weak bladder or something?” Lucifer finally snapped as he unbuckled his seatbelt for the sixth time.
“Or something,” Boudreaux said with narrowed eyes.
Lucifer huffed. “Do you want to just switch seats?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
Lucifer blinked. He had expected snark. He took a second to really look at Boudreaux as they shuffled around each other and he looked… more tired than Lucifer would expect for someone so young.
“No problem,” he responded.
He sat back down in the middle seat this time and even went so far as to rearrange his and Boudreaux’s carry-on bags.
The rest of the flight was uneventful, though Lucifer did notice that Boudreaux got up three more times. How he ever made it through giving a 45-minute lecture was a mystery even Amanda Gate couldn’t solve.
As they were getting off the plane, Boudreaux reminded Lucifer that their transportation was being paid for, so long as they kept a record and offered to be the one to submit the paperwork. That was fine by Lucifer. He hated paperwork.
They took an Uber to the hotel and checked in with no problems.
Boudreaux took the bed closest to the window and Lucifer immediately flopped down on the second bed. There was just something about being crammed into a loud tube like sardines with a hundred strangers that made a man tired.
He opened his eyes and saw a giant beige bulge on the ceiling, directly above his head.
“The fuck is that?” He asked, hastily sitting up.
He looked around the room and spotted Boudreaux’s cane. He grabbed it and marched back over to the bed.
“Where are you taking that?”
He poked at the bulge on the ceiling.
“Don’t —”
It popped.
Brown water with chunks of pink insulation and gray matted dust bunnies came pouring down like a waterfall of nightmares directly onto Lucifer’s bed. He screamed and scrambled away to avoid the splash back.
“What. On Earth. Possessed you to stab that?” Boudreaux hissed.
Lucifer hastily handed him his cane.
“Better now than while I was sleeping,” he snapped.
Boudreaux re-tied his oxfords.
“Get your things,” he said. “We’re obviously not sleeping here tonight.”
The duo working the front desk was beside themselves. They apologized at least ten times, not only for the disrepair, but because they didn’t have another double available. Alastor was trying to get Lute on the phone while Lucifer was calling the surrounding hotels.
He was striking out.
They were all booked. They had been for months due to the conference.
“—Called it off, so we do have one vacant room,” the woman said quietly to the man with her strong southern drawl.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Millie,” he said.
“They don’t seem to be having much luck otherwise, and they gotta sleep.”
“I heard you have a room?” Lucifer asked.
“Yes, sir,” the man said. Lucifer waved Alastor over. “It’s a specialty suite and we’d be willing to upgrade you for no extra charge. It has a king bed, which fits up to three…” he pulled at his bow tie.
That… was not ideal. They may have a truce, but sharing a bed with Boudreaux was something else entirely.
“And why the hesitation?” Alastor asked.
“It’s the honeymoon suite,” the woman answered.
Oh, ho, ho, no! No way. Absolutely —
“We’ll take it,” Boudreaux said confidently.
“What?” Lucifer shouted. “Are you fucking serious right now?”
“Unless you’ve found somewhere else to stay and decided to keep that a secret?”
Lucifer deflated.
“No. But the honeymoon suite?”
“We’re both adults and professionals. I am confident in our ability to conduct ourselves as such, regardless of the room we are assigned. Unless there’s some issue on your end?”
“What?” Lucifer snapped. “No! I’m not some creep.”
“Then there’s no problem. Would you like to request extra pillows so we can make a line of demarcation between your side of the bed and mine?”
The woman behind the counter tried and failed to suppress her snicker.
Lucifer would have considered it if Boudreaux hadn’t just made fun of it.
“Let’s just get checked in.”
The duo beamed, thanked them for their flexibility, gave them their key cards, and sent them on their way.
Boudreaux went in first and Lucifer followed after him. From what he could see so far, it looked like a normal hotel room, neutral-patterned flat carpet, off white walls. The toilet and shower were behind a door to the right, thank God, and the counter, sink, and mirror were to the left, outside the bathroom. That was great, they could both get ready at the same time. There was a microwave on the counter, a mini fridge, and a safe underneath it. He could see a desk and —
There was a massive fuck off jacuzzi tub, right there in the room right next to the bed.
Yup.
That was a honeymoon bed.
It was a massive four-poster, its wood matching the color and luster of dark chocolate. It was draped in rosy gossamer and dressed in shiny satin pillows and sheets and topped with a thick comforter adorned in dramatic and intricate scarlet and burgundy swirls.
And there was a leather couch.
So, that was an option.
Boudreaux cleared his throat.
“I assume you have a preference on which side you’d like?”
Christ on a cracker, this was an actual real conversation he was having. About this fucking bed!
“Yeah,” he said slowly. “The-the um, right side.”
Boudreaux nodded and wheeled his suitcase over to the coffee table in front of the couch. He set his suitcase on it.
“I’d like to keep the desk free for its intended use.” He then sent his carry-on bag there and began digging through the pockets.
“Yeah,” Lucifer said dumbly. “That’s fine.”
Lucifer put his suitcase next to Boudreaux’s, set his messenger bag beside the other man, and unpacked and plugged in all his electronics for the next day.
When he was done, he glanced over at Boudreaux, who was sitting on the couch with his phone in his hand.
“We’ve gained two hours from the flight, and while it’s only four here, we did miss lunch, unless you count our airplane refreshments —”
“I absolutely do not,” Lucifer answered.
“I say we get dinner.”
Lucifer nodded.
“Are we going out or ordering in?” Lucifer asked.
Boudreaux sighed. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather order in.”
“That’s fine with me,” Lucifer agreed, happily taking off his shoes.
“Any preferences?”
“Anything but burgers or pizza,” Lucifer requested.
They ended up ordering barbecue from a local place and the brisket Lucifer had was to die for. Boudreaux stayed on the couch and Lucifer took the desk. After dinner, the two settled into a surprisingly peaceful silence, with both of them going back to reading.
They stayed up later than they should have, considering the time difference, but Lucifer supposed neither of them was terribly eager to get into bed together.
That didn’t come out right.
“I’m going to turn in,” Boudreaux said as he stood from the couch. Lucifer turned around in his desk chair and saw that the man hadn’t even taken off his suit coat. What a weirdo.
“I guess I will too, you know, so you can sleep…”
“How very thoughtful of you.” His tone was playful rather than his usual needling as he pulled some clothes out of his suitcase. Once he was in the bathroom, Lucifer changed out of his t-shirt and jeans. He still couldn’t believe Boudreaux had worn a full ass suit on the plane.
Maybe he kept a second cane shoved up his ass.
Lucifer chuckled at his own joke as he stepped into his pajama pants. He glanced down at his stomach and hastily threw his t-shirt back on, Boudreaux’s comment about his love handles rattling around his brain, then he stared at the bed.
Okay. He told himself. No big deal. It’s just a bed. We’re just sleeping. Don’t make it weird.
He walked around to the right side just as Boudreaux stepped out of the bathroom. He was wearing long-sleeved, red plaid flannel pajamas and… had he seriously brought house slippers? Man, this guy was something else.
He hung his coat in the alcove and Lucifer climbed into the bed. He rolled onto his side, listening as Boudreaux walked around the room, turning off the overhead lights. He tensed as the other man slid under the covers and settled.
“I’ve set my alarm for seven. That should give us plenty of time to take turns getting ready.”
“Oh.” Lucifer felt like an idiot for forgetting to set his own alarm. “Sounds good.”
“Good night.”
“Yeah,” Lucifer said as he fluffed the pillow under his head. “Night.”
Lucifer slept like a rock, only stirring to the sound of an unfamiliar alarm. The mattress was way more comfortable than the one in his apartment, it was probably time for an upgrade, and he and Boudreaux had easily kept to their own sides of the bed. He groaned and ran his hands down his face, still not quite ready to open his eyes. Despite his good sleep, he was not a morning person.
He heard Boudreaux get out of bed.
“I’d like to shower first if you don’t mind,” he said.
“Go ahead,” Lucifer grumbled, his voice rough from sleep.
Lucifer waited until he heard the shower turn on, then forced himself to his feet. He drifted through brushing his teeth and gave himself a halfhearted shave with his electric razor, before gathering up some clean clothes. He flopped down on the couch with his eyes closed until Boudreaux left the bathroom.
“Oh, my poor little Morninglark,” he said, pure amusement in his voice. “Should I have let you sleep in?”
“Fuck off,” he grumbled, opening his eyes. “Mmm fine.”
Boudreaux had the nerve to chuckle as Lucifer lumbered to his feet and dragged himself to the bathroom.
The shower woke him up a little, but what he really needed was coffee, and as long as there was creamer and sugar, he was a happy man. Dressed in his t-shirt and jeans, why Boudreaux was still in a three-piece suit was beyond him, he slipped into his shoes and the pair set off for breakfast.
The continental breakfast was decent, not the best or worst Lucifer had ever experienced, and the coffee was pretty good. They sat together, and in an act of mercy, Boudreaux didn’t try to engage him in conversation. Lucifer took a second cup of coffee to go and they headed back to the room to pack up before heading to the conference.
The convention center was massive, bigger than Lucifer was expecting, and the reception area was already full of people. They signed in, were given swag bags, name badges — Boudreaux’s had a tag on it that said PRESENTER — printed full-color, bound programs, and were sent on their way.
“Would you prefer to grab some seats for the keynote or mingle with our fellow educators?”
Lucifer was still waiting for the coffee to kick in. The last thing he wanted to do was mingle.
“Seats,” Lucifer answered.
Boudreaux laughed. “You are ever so charming in the morning.”
Lucifer just grunted in response, then followed Boudreaux to the Grand Ballroom, where rows of chairs were packed side by side from wall to wall.
“I’d like to sit off to the side,” Boudreaux said.
“Because of your ‘or something’?”
He grinned sharply. “How kind of you to remember.”
“You crawled across my lap three times during our flight —”
“I did no such thing —”
“Before I asked if you wanted to switch seats.” Lucifer sighed. “You could have just said something.”
“It’s not in my nature to impose upon others.”
Lucifer sputtered. “Not in your nature? You impose upon me all the time! Popping into my office without warning, sneaking up on me in that hallway, disappearing with my favorite mug!”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. These seats should be fine.”
Lucifer glared up at Boudreaux for a moment before sitting down. The seats were so close together that when Boudreaux pulled out his laptop, their elbows brushed together.
“I’m going to highlight the classes Ms. Lute has requested we attend in my program so I don’t have to keep bringing out my laptop or phone. Would you like me to read yours to you as well?”
That was actually a really good idea.
“Yeah, thanks.”
Lucifer pulled out his program and the NTLX pen he had been given. Boudreaux awkwardly tried to mark his own program mid-air. Lucifer held out his hand.
“I can mark yours, too.”
Boudreaux blinked at him like he was surprised. Rude.
“Thank you. My first session is ‘Modeling High Impact Teaching Strategies’.”
Lucifer put a star next to it.
“Yours is ‘Cut Grading Time in Half While Improving the Quality of Feedback’.”
That actually sounded really useful. The further they went, the more excited Lucifer got. Ms. Lute had picked some good sessions for both of them and he was actually looking forward to comparing notes with Boudreaux.”
“Excuse me?” A quiet feminine voice said from behind them just as Boudreaux sat up from putting away his things.
He turned around to look at the Black woman behind them who looked far too young to be a teacher. Maybe Lucifer was just getting old.
“Yes?”
“Are you Alastor Boudreaux, from Reading the Silence?”
Lucifer frowned. What was she talking about?
Boudreaux beamed. “Why, yes, I am.”
She squealed. “I knew you were going to be here and I am so looking forward to your presentation, but I didn’t think I’d actually get the chance to meet you!”
“It’s always a pleasure to meet a listener.” He offered his hand for her to shake and she took it in both of hers. “Quite the pleasure.”
“I can’t believe this is actually happening.”
He chuckled. “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage,” he said as he took his hand back.
“What?”
“You know my name, but I haven’t gotten yours.” His smile and tone were oozing charm. Lucifer had always been so awkward or way too “extra” with his fans.
“Oh my God! I’m such an idiot! I’m Doreen Church, and I just started listening last year, but I’ve gone through your whole backlog and it's just so good!”
“Thank you.”
She seemed to remember the woman sitting next to her and shook her shoulder. “This is the podcaster I keep telling you about. The Radio Demon!”
“Uh,” Lucifer said, looking over at Boudreaux, “Why do you call yourself that?”
“It’s a nickname we Sinners gave him because of the way he destroys the idiots he interviews on his show!”
“Now, now, dear, they aren’t idiots. That implies they have no control over their intellect. They are ignorant, uninformed, and oftentimes bigots, but they are capable of change.”
No wonder this guy is Charlie’s favorite Professor.
“Most of them will continue to be terrible people, but it makes for good radio!”
“Is that why you interview them?” Doreen’s friend asked.
“That and it would be a rather boring show if I only interviewed people with the exact same opinion as myself, now wouldn’t it? That’s the entire point of discourse. To engage, challenge, learn.”
Lucifer blinked up at him, feeling oddly inspired by Boudreaux’s words. Engage, challenge, learn. That was why he had gone for his masters, wasn’t it? Why he had started writing? Why he’d pursued teaching?
“Do you see why I love his show?” Doreen asked. Lucifer returned his attention back to the conversation.
“Can I get a picture with you?”
“Of course!”
“I can take it,” Lucifer told Doreen’s friend as Doreen pulled out her phone, “if you want to be in it.”
She shrugged. “Sure.”
Boudreaux stood in the middle of them with both hands atop his cane.
“Can I put my arm around you?” Doreen asked.
“Thank you for asking, dear. Yes, you may.”
Doreen put her hand around Boudreaux’s waist, given their extreme height difference, while her friend turned to the side with a hand on her hip and threw up a peace sign.
“One, two, three, cheese,” Lucifer said. He took several pictures, in case one was blurry or someone blinked, then handed the phone back to Doreen.
“Would it be too much to ask you to sign my program?”
Boudreaux chuckled. “Not at all.”
Lucifer watched Boudreaux as he checked the spelling of Doreen’s name, then wrote her a short note and signed the inside of her program. He was so… sweet with his fans. It was a side of the man Lucifer had never expected. Is this how he was with his students?
“Now, I think the two of you had better get some seats before the ballroom gets too crowded.”
“Right. Yes. Thank you again.”
“Enjoy the conference,” Boudreaux called as they waved goodbye to each other. He and Lucifer sat back down and Lucifer mulled over this new information.
“I didn’t know you had a podcast.”
Boudreaux’s presentation of Podcasting as a Tool for Student Voice and Critical Thinking made a lot more sense now.
Boudreaux grinned sharply at him. “I suspect there are a great many things you don’t know about me.”
“I guess so.” For some reason, Lucifer felt a little bit sad about that. There must be something good about Boudreaux for Charlie to look up to him so much. Lucifer knew he was a good teacher. Whenever he had students from Boudreaux’s comp classes, he never had to worry about their research skills or their ability to make a solid argument, so he was doing something right.
Come to think of it, he didn’t know much about any of his colleagues. He never went to the staff parties or stayed around to visit. He just taught, graded, went home, and scrolled his socials or read books by other people. Anxiety and disappointment formed a knot in his stomach as he thought about the unfinished manuscript that he had dutifully transferred from laptop to laptop and backed up on his cloud. The one he still got fan queries about.
Shame settled in next to the fear and self-loathing, making a trifecta of failure that swirled around his head, consuming his thoughts until the squeal of microphone feedback yanked him back to the present.
There would be plenty of time for a pity party on the plane ride home. He needed to focus on this conference. He was supposed to take notes, share the latest innovations and new ideas in education with his team back at HCC. And there was no way he was letting Boudreaux show up with perfect notes while he looked like a bumbling idiot.
He pulled out his laptop and opened a blank document, ready for whatever their keynote was going to say.
When Lucifer had first started teaching at HCC he’d been inexperienced, but his enthusiasm had made up for it. But something had shifted; in a bad way. Maybe it was COVID, maybe it was more gradual than that, but he’d let himself get lost in the lesson plans and the curriculum, and he’d forgotten that teaching could be fun!
The first speaker had reminded him why he loved teaching: that he lit up when his students had their aha moments in class, that he was so proud of their growth as learners, and that he got to watch them become more thoughtful and purposeful human beings.
Why had he stopped being one?
Rather than boring lectures, each session was inspiring and full of ideas and techniques that they spent time discussing and practicing. He collaborated with preschool teachers, deans, and everyone in between, and when they were dismissed for dinner, he was buzzing with excitement. He bounced on his feet in the lobby as he waited for Boudreaux.
It didn’t take him long to spot the giant of a man, nearly half a head above the majority of the crowd. Lucifer made a beeline for him, easily weaving through the gathered masses.
Boudreaux saw him just as he swerved around a cluster of women chattering excitedly.
“You ready to get out of here?” Lucifer asked.
“Absolutely,” he said with a heavy sigh.
“C’mon.” He waved Boudreaux toward the exit. “Call us an Uber, we’re heading to a place called Eddie’s that’s got amazing reviews.”
“Looking at restaurants instead of paying attention, were we?” Boudreaux asked.
“Only the last ten minutes, and that was all summary.”
Boudreaux raised a sardonic eyebrow at him.
“I’m hungry,” Lucifer defended loudly.
Boudreaux just hummed, but pulled out his phone anyway.
Lucifer talked non-stop about everything he’d learned during their drive and while they waited for their food. He ordered Eddie’s signature wings, which were to die for, while Boudreaux opted for the grilled salmon, “In oil, no butter please, and a side of broccoli.”
“No wonder you’re so skinny,” Lucifer commented. “You eat like you’re on a diet.”
Boudreaux scoffed. “Not all of us can still eat like we’re attending college,” he said with a nod to Lucifer’s plate.
“Bummer for you,” he said before taking another bite of his wings.
They chatted amicably through their meal, Boudreaux listening intently and sharing his own insights as they ate. Lucifer’s eyes kept finding their way to his lips. He was used to being smirked at, laughed at, but tonight Boudreaux was smiling softly at him. It was kind, almost fond, and it was making Lucifer feel — as Charlie would say — “some type of way.”
They rode back to the hotel in relative silence. Lucifer was finally starting to feel the effects of the busy day as his, admittedly, too large dinner settled. They made their way slowly back to their room and once their bags were on the desk Lucifer kicked off his shoes and flopped backward onto his bed.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m beat!”
“Ms. Lute certainly didn’t take the geography of the conference center into account when she was planning my sessions. I must have walked a mile today.”
“Really?” Lucifer asked, sitting up.
“Let’s see, shall we?” He hung up his coat and tapped his watch a few times. It looked fancier than most digital watches Lucifer saw and it was affixed with a golden band made to look old-fashioned. “I misspoke. One and a quarter miles.”
Lucifer let out a low whistle.
“Indeed,” Boudreaux agreed as he sat down with a wince and started taking off his shoes. “I think I’m going to go take a soak in the hot tub.”
Lucifer groaned.“That sounds amazing. Mind if I join you?”
“I have no say in the matter,” Boudreaux answered.
Lucifer sighed and dug out his swimsuit.
“I’ll change in the bathroom,” he told the other man. “Just knock when you’re decent.”
He quickly changed and even took the time to fold up his clothes, then sat on the toilet seat while Boudreaux took his sweet time.
Lucifer was wishing he’d brought his phone and had begun to contemplate counting the holes in the ceiling tiles when there was a knock on the door.
“Finally,” Lucifer grumbled.
He stepped out of the bathroom and —
That’s a lot of skin.
His eyes traveled the length of Boudreaux’s incredibly trim body. There was a lot of it. He totally did not stare at the plain red trunks that didn’t quite reach Boudreaux’s knees. His colleague folded his arms across his chest.
“Something wrong?”
“Nooooope,” Lucifer said, snapping his eyes back up to Boudreaux’s face.
“Then I suggest you grab your key-card and a towel.”
“Right!” Lucifer spun on his heel and grabbed two towels. He thrust one at Boudreaux, then shuffled past him, making sure to give him plenty of space, and grabbed his key card. “Ready!”
He followed Boudreaux out the door, but paused when he realized what he was carrying.
“You’re bringing your cane?”
“Of course I am.”
“You’re not worried about it getting wet?”
“I have been out in the rain before.”
“Right. But at the pool?”
Boudreaux stopped and turned toward him. With his head tilted to the side, he looked Lucifer up and down as if he were trying to puzzle him out.
“What, exactly, do you think a cane is for?”
Lucifer shrugged.
“I thought you were going for a Hemingway vibe. What with the three-piece suit and the old-timey glasses, and the cane…”
“Old-timey…” Boudreaux sighed. “You do realize that Hemingway used a cane out of medical necessity.”
“Uh, no?”
Boudreaux just turned and started walking again, his cane hitting the floor and supporting his right leg with every step.
Mouth. Meet foot.
The rest of their journey to the hot tub was spent in complete silence. Lucifer may have made a complete ass out of himself, but he had enough manners and common sense not to ask, “So what’s wrong with you then?” He winced at the thought of it.
Boudreaux unlocked the pool door and Lucifer followed him in. They set their towels and key-cards down by the side of the hot tub and Lucifer opted to sit down on the floor and dip his legs in while Boudreaux set his cane to the side of the railing and used it to step carefully into the water. Lucifer stared down at his own feet moving back and forth in the bubbly pool rather than watching the other man’s lean muscles flex and shift as he eased himself into the hot tub.
Not that Lucifer wanted to look. Because, sure, maybe Boudreaux was in possession of features that were considered traditionally attractive, but that didn’t mean Lucifer thought so. It was just weird seeing someone that was normally covered from neck to wrist to ankle all the time suddenly in a swim suit. He didn’t need to stare. That would be rude.
Eventually, Lucifer stepped onto the bench beneath his feet and hissed as he sank into the water.
“Oh, that’s nice,” he moaned as he leaned back, letting the water come up to his neck.
“Mmmm,” Boudreaux seemed to agree.
Several kids played in the pool. Lucifer’s eyes scanned the deck and he saw a few presumed parents and a woman in the pool with a toddler in her arms. They were both laughing as the little boy splashed in the water. Lucifer smiled at the poignant sting of nostalgia, sure that Charlie had been that little just yesterday.
His eyes traveled to Boudreaux and remembered what he had said about how little Lucifer knew about him. He was right. He didn’t even know the guy had a medical condition, which, now that he thought about it, explained the whole plane thing.
“Do you have kids?” Lucifer blurted, asking the first thing that came to his mind.
“What?” Boudreaux sputtered, sitting up and blinking open his eyes.
Lucifer flushed, but his face was red from the heat anyway. “Do you have kids, or… a partner?” He shrugged. “Just asking. You said there was a lot I didn’t know about you and I figured since we’ve called a truce, now was as good a time as any.”
Boudreaux adjusted his glasses, which were fogging up near the bridge of his French nose.
“I see. No. I do not have children, nor have I ever wanted them or desire to procure any in the future.”
“Oh.”
“And I don’t have a partner.”
“Ooooh,” Lucifer teased, “The young professor is keeping his options open.”
Boudreaux rolled his eyes. “Hardly. My last relationship ended… messily.”
“Sounds juicy!”
“I simply grew tired of my partner not accepting no for an answer.”
Lucifer’s stomach clenched. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry.”
“What?” Boudreaux’s eyes went wide. “Oh! No. Not like that, though he was incredibly pushy.”
He? Interesting.
“No, we were also business partners and, well, there’s a reason the adage, ‘don’t mix business with pleasure’ exists.”
Lucifer nodded. “Sounds like he was kind of a shitty guy. No offense to your taste or anything.”
“None taken,” he said with a wave of his hand. “He’s quite charming, and terribly manipulative. He’d shower me with compliments and gifts, and it wasn’t until I was completely taken in that he began to show his true colors.”
“What a piece of shit.”
“Indeed,” he said cheerily. “Fortunately, I saw through his act before I ever signed any contracts with him.”
“Was it about your podcast?”
“Precisely,” he said. “He needed me far more than I needed him, though he still doesn’t see it that way.” Boudreaux sighed. “I’m perfectly happy with the way things worked out.”
Lucifer nodded as he pulled his hands out of the water. They were pale and shriveled.
“We should probably get out,” he told Boudreaux.
“Why?” Boudreaux asked. “Am I boring you?” He smirked.
“No,” Lucifer said as he folded his arms, “because I peed in here.”
“What?” Boudreaux shouted and he scrambled up.
Lucifer threw his head back and laughed. “I’m joking,” he said as he splashed some water at him. “Though someone probably has.”
“Disgusting,” Boudreaux sneered as he began climbing out of the hot tub.
“Aww, come on. We’re getting all gross and pruney. There’s only so long you can boil yourself before it starts to get unhealthy.”
Lucifer climbed over the lip of the tub, grabbed both towels and held out Boudreaux’s for him. He snatched it away with a glare and began to dry himself off. Lucifer followed suit and once he was dry enough, he wrapped his towel around his waist and picked up the key-cards. He handed Boudreaux his and noticed that he was gripping onto the top of his cane so hard his knuckles were white.
Lucifer was about to ask if he was okay when he started walking.
He pressed his lips closed and followed.
Boudreaux’s strides were long, but slightly hesitant on his right side, where his leg and cane would hit the ground together for each step.
Because he was watching so closely, he saw the exact moment Boudreaux’s right knee completely crumpled underneath him.
He put his weight on his cane, making his body shift to the left, where his foot wasn’t quite steady on the ground. He tipped sideways as Lucifer surged forward and awkwardly wrapped his arms around Boudreaux’s torso. It kept them both upright as the taller man worked to get his feet back on the floor, and his cane clattered to the ground.
“You okay?” Lucifer said against the skin of Boudreaux’s back.
“Yes, thank you. You can let go. I’m steady enough.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes,” he snapped.
“Okay,” Lucifer said defensively as he eased his arms away. “Do you want me to get your cane for you?”
“If you would be so kind.”
Lucifer bent down and picked up Boudreaux’s cane. It was a dark wood, almost black, with a handle at a 90-degree angle at the top. He blinked down at it. It was carved with grooves for fingers, but stylized to look like a hand-held microphone.
How perfect for the Radio Demon, he thought.
He smiled at it as he handed it to Boudreaux.
“That’s pretty cool,” he told the other man.
“Thank you,” he said as he used it to steady himself. “I had it custom-made after I recorded my 100th episode. I was in need of a new cane anyway.”
“100 episodes?” Lucifer asked in shock as they resumed walking.
“Oh, that was years ago.” He said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’m currently drafting episode 327 while 324 is set to air this Sunday.”
“While we’re flying?”
“I plan ‘always relevant’ topics for when I know I’m going to be gone, but I’ve never missed a week, not even during a flare-up.”
His shoulders tensed suddenly.
“Is that what this is?”
“Yes,” he said as he swiped his key card.
He strode into the room and went straight for his suitcase. Lucifer locked the door and set his key-card down.
“I’m going to shower tonight, rather than in the morning, since you’ve put the idea of bodily fluids in pool water into my head.”
“That’s probably a good idea anyway,” Lucifer said as Boudreaux rushed past him, “Chlorine is bad for your skin. I’ll go after you.”
Boudreaux nodded and shut the door.
With nothing else left to do, Lucifer grabbed his phone and sat down in the office chair, trying to ignore how uncomfortable he was in his cold, wet trunks.
He texted Charlie to see if she and her roommate had anything fun planned for the break, then scrolled his socials. Charlie had recently declared her roommate… Margie, was it? her best friend. The shy, serious girl had been recruited to HCC on a softball scholarship, but had taken a softball straight to the face during a game, leaving her permanently blind in one eye and ending her hopes of any future funding. Charlie was pouring her heart and soul into making sure her friend achieved good grades in hopes that she would qualify under academic merit.
A crash and a thud from the bathroom had Lucifer ripping his eyes away from his phone. He hastily set it down on the desk and scrambled to the closed bathroom door.
“Boudreaux,” he called. “Are you okay in there?”
“If you’re going to treat me like a damsel in distress, can you at least call me by my given name?” He called back.
Lucifer huffed out a quiet laugh. At least he was still conscious. “Sure, yeah, I can do that, Alastor, Al? Should I call you Al?”
“Should I call you Lu?”
That was waaaaay too personal.
“Okay, got it, Alastor it is.” He shook his head, reorienting to the actual issue. “But seriously, are you okay in there?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re sure?”
“The shower was just a bit slippery, caught me unaware. Not the first time, won’t be the last.”
“Right,” Lucifer said hesitantly. “Do you need anything?”
“I need to get dressed, so if you don’t mind…”
“Understood,” he said as he stepped away and absolutely did not imagine a naked Bou — Alastor.
He shook his head and started gathering up his own pajamas. It was only 7:30, but it’s not like he was going anywhere else tonight. He heard the door creak open and saw Alastor once again dressed in his flannel pajamas and house slippers.
Maybe the slippers help with his balance.
He had a small towel draped over his shoulder, an armful of wet towels bundled against his chest with one hand, and his cane gripped tightly in the other. His damp hair was a mess of wild curls. He looked put out… and kind of cute.
Lucifer immediately shoved the thought away as he approached.
“You can leave your towels and trunks in there. I’ll hang them up when I’m done.”
“You’re sure?” He asked.
“Not a problem.”
Alastor nodded, then turned back toward the bathroom and tossed the towels to the floor.
Lucifer stepped aside so Alastor could leave the steamy bathroom, then made quick work of his own shower. He hung all the towels and trunks as promised, making use of the built-in racks and the shower rod, then left the bathroom.
Alastor was sitting sideways on the couch with both legs stretched across the cushions, a pillow from the bed tucked behind his back. He had a hotel hand towel draped across his right knee, and a thin plastic bag of ice set atop it.
Lucifer sat down in the desk chair.
“Does this happen a lot?” He asked.
Alastor looked up from his e-reader.
“Sorry,” Lucifer said immediately, throwing up his hands. “You don’t have to answer that!”
Alastor shook his head. “I don’t mind. I’ve taken to including an explanation of my condition on the first day of classes in recent years.”
“Oh.”
“I have Hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, hEDS for short. It’s a fairly common genetic disorder that affects the connective tissue. In my case, this causes my joints to be overly flexible.” He grabbed his thumb and pulled it back until it touched his forearm.
“Oh God!”
He laughed. “It doesn’t hurt. What hurts is the joint instability. I’m prone to subluxations.” He held up his hand before Lucifer could ask. “It’s a partial joint dislocation or slight misalignment. My knees are the worst culprit. I can usually get them back into place on my own, but they do ache for days afterwards.” He gestured to his knee.
“That really sucks.”
“Oh, there’s more,” he said with sarcastic glee. “As you can imagine, there is chronic pain, but I also deal with fatigue, bruising at the drop of a hat, and my favorite dysautonomia.” He held up his hand again. “It’s a term that indicates my body is simply terrible at regulating itself. I have surprise drops in blood pressure, occasional digestion issues, and cannot stay warm for the life of me.”
Lucifer’s eyebrows rose.
That explains the suits. I suppose if you have to stay warm, you might as well look sharp while doing it.
“That’s… a lot,” Lucifer said awkwardly. What else could he say?
“I manage. I take daily medication, which helps, and I have a standing bi-weekly physical therapy appointment. And yes. It is a lot, but I was born with this condition, so it’s always been my ‘normal.’ People often speak about getting dizzy when standing quickly, or being too hot or too cold, or complaining of stomach upset.” He shrugged.
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
Alastor stared up at the ceiling as if the answer to Lucifer’s question was up there.
“If we could turn up the thermostat, I would greatly appreciate it. I was dreadfully cold last night.”
“Yeah!” Lucifer was on his feet instantly. His fingers hovered over the controls where the unit was set to a cool 68. “How warm do you want it?”
“I keep my apartment at 74, but 72 is fine.”
Lucifer pressed the up arrow four times, then once more, just to be nice. He could always take a shower if he woke up sweaty. It’s not like Alastor had any fat on him to keep him warm.
The fan immediately kicked to life.
“You… uh… do you care if I sleep with my shirt off?”
Alastor rolled his eyes.“You could sleep in the nude for all I care.”
Lucifer choked on his own breath.
“So long as I can feel my fingers and toes in the morning, I’ll be perfectly happy.”
“O-ho-kaaaaay,” Lucifer said as heat rushed to his cheeks. “I’ll be keeping my pants on, thank you very much.”
“Wonderful,” he said flatly.
Lucifer settled back into the desk chair and checked his phone for a response from Charlie. He grinned when he saw her response and happily read paragraph after paragraph about her adventures with — oh, Vaggi — well, that was a different name.
He let his daughter know that the conference was going well, that he was actually enjoying himself, and decided to zone out with one of his match games for a while before switching back to reading.
“It’s nearly ten o’clock,” Alastor said, pulling Lucifer from Amanda Gate's masterful storytelling. “We should turn in.”
Lucifer closed his book and stretched.
“I can get the lights,” he said as he set the book on the desk.
Alastor nodded and swung his long legs to the floor.
“Do you want me to put that in the sink for you?” He asked, nodding to the half-melted bag of ice.
“Yes, thank you.”
Lucifer walked the room, turning off the overhead light, and the bathroom light was left on — oops — then over to the bed to plug in his phone.
“I’m good,” he told Alastor as he sat down on the bed. The man still had bags under his eyes and Lucifer wondered if he always looked this tired and he’d never noticed before, or if this trip was wearing him out. As he tossed off his shirt and wiggled his way under the covers, he realized that he was worn out. He hadn’t traversed the entire conference center like Alastor had, but his brain was tired.
As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was drifting, not thinking his million usual bedtime thoughts, but instead relaxing instantly into the plush bed.
I really need a new mattress, he mused before he was out like a light.
Lucifer woke that morning content and comfortable. He was almost too warm and snuggled up with Lilith, which settled some strange ache in his chest. He pulled her closer and pressed his nose against the back of her neck and breathed her in.
“Morning, Lil,” he whispered.
She smelled different, but not bad, some kind of earthy, woodsy smell. Maybe she changed her soap or shampoo? Lucifer smiled against her neck and pressed a kiss to the sensitive skin there. Maybe if he played his cards right, they could have a little fun this morning.
He kissed her again, lower this time, and a breathy sigh escaped her. Her hand slid down his arm, where it was draped across her stomach and he took that as his cue to start working his hand lower.
“Lucifer,” a very male, very not Lilith, voice raspy with sleep said.
He froze as he processed.
That voice was sexy as hell.
He was not in bed with his wife.
His ex-wife.
He was in bed with his co-worker.
And his morning wood was pressed against the guy’s ass.
“Fuck, shit, fuck,” he shouted. He yanked his hands back and rolled to his other side as fast as he could. He curled into a ball of mortification and covered his hands with his face.
Raucous laughter from the man beside him bounced off the walls of the room.
“I’m so sorry,” Lucifer whined from behind his hands.
“I didn’t think you were capable of moving that fast in the morning,” Alastor said once he’d calmed down.
“Well, I wasn’t exactly invited over, now was I?” He asked, his blush growing hotter.
“No,” Alastor put a hand on his shoulder, but considering you called me Lil, I’m assuming you weren’t awake.”
Lucifer shook his head vigorously. “No. I swear I wasn’t. I’m so, so, sorry, Alastor.”
He hummed and rolled Lucifer onto his back.
“I don’t know, I can’t be sure you’re sincere since I can’t see your face.”
Lucifer dropped his hands and stared wide-eyed and slack-jawed at the other man in disbelief.
He was met with a shit eating grin and mirthful eyes.
“You’re as red as an apple,” he crowed, dissolving into another fit of laughter. “Oh, that fair skin of yours must burn something terrible in the summer!”
He resolved to never tell Alastor about how frequently he got sunburned while wearing sunscreen.
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” he encouraged as he threw the covers off and stomped over to his suitcase. He grabbed his clothes and rushed into the bathroom to get dressed. He stripped down and stared in horror at his still half-hard cock. He moaned and ran his hand down his face.
Think of sad puppies, he told himself.
Instead, he heard Alastor’s chuckle through the closed door and his traitorous cock twitched.
No, no, he thought, I don’t care how long it’s been since I’ve gotten action, I am not getting hard while there is nothing but a door between my colleague and me.
He was probably already changing and —
Heat surged through his body as the image of Alastor in nothing but his swim trunks popped into his head. He bit down on his lower lip.
He could absolutely not be having thoughts like this right now!
Lucifer rushed into the shower and cranked it on. The icy water blasted his skin, causing him to choke and gasp with shock. His cock gave another hearty throb and Lucifer pushed down against it.
“No,” he hissed firmly, “you can wait two days,” he growled. He stepped forward and let the cold water spray directly on his overheated face with a relieved sigh.
He took slow, deep breaths and practiced the visualization techniques his therapist taught him as the water cooled the flames in his body.
Leaves on a stream, he told himself, let it all go, like leaves washing away downstream.
When Lucifer stepped out of the bathroom, Alastor was fully dressed and sitting on the couch with both hands atop his cane.
He wasn’t smiling anymore.
“I really am sorry, Alastor.”
His lips pursed together. “And I told you, it’s fine. It’s hardly the first time I’ve been accosted in my sleep.”
Lucifer winced at his choice of words.
“You didn’t do anything inappropriate, and you stopped when you realized what was happening, before I even asked you to. I’m hardly some innocent young maiden,” he batted his eyelashes and Lucifer’s heart stuttered, “whose virtue is now in question.”
Lucifer had no idea how to respond to that.
Alastor stood. “I feel I owe you an apology. It seems I rather upset you with my teasing.”
“What?” Lucifer asked. “No! I’m fine.”
“The way you fled was —”
“I was mortified! I thought you were my ex-wife! That’s so embarrassing!” He dragged his hand down his face, which was threatening to light up again. “My face was on fire. Hell, I was blushing halfway down my torso. I just needed to cool off.”
His eyes flicked to Lucifer’s hair. “I see. I take it you’re feeling better, then?”
“I’m fine, as long as you are.”
Alastor grinned cheek to cheek. “Quite alright, and thoroughly entertained.”
Lucifer threw his head back and groaned.
“Shall we head down to breakfast?”
With a resigned nod and the knowledge that Alastor was going to find a way to bring this up at the most inopportune times for the rest of Lucifer’s career, he followed Alastor out the door.
The second day went by just as quickly as the first, though this time Lucifer and Alastor managed to catch up with each other when grabbing their conference-provided boxed lunches, but he was pulled away by the conference runners for a quick check on his presentation.
Lucifer didn’t see him again until it was time for him to show up and take notes. However, when he walked into the room, it was packed. There were still five minutes before the presentation started, but there wasn’t a single empty seat to be found. In fact, there were several people standing in the back.
“Excuse me,” someone behind Lucifer said. He blinked and realized he was partially blocking the doorway. Were people really this excited about his presentation, or was his podcast way more popular than Lucifer had assumed?
Alastor was standing at the front with his cane in one hand and his clicker in the other. Lucifer resigned himself to attending another presentation. Alastor probably had notes already; he could just share those with the staff. He walked over to the man to tell him as much, but as soon as he spotted Lucifer, his expression shifted.
He seemed to relax and light up all at once.
“There you are,” he sighed. “I was beginning to worry. Come on.” He grabbed Lucifer’s arm and pulled him to the center of the front row, where a cellphone was set on a tripod directly in front of a chair holding Alastor’s bag.
“Ms. Lute has asked me to record the presentation, and I was hoping you could keep an eye on it. I apologize for not asking sooner, but it completely slipped my mind until one of the conference runners asked if I’d need a tripod.”
“Yeah,” Lucifer said, excited that he’d get to see the presentation after all, “I can do that.”
He and Alastor spent the next few minutes getting Lucifer seated and the phone re-situated.
“Alright,” Alastor said, straightening up. “That should do it.”
“I’ve got it,” Lucifer said confidently, “You just worry about your adoring fans back there.”
Alastor shook his head with a wry smile.
“Break a leg,” Lucifer told him.
“I should hope not,” he said with a laugh, lifting up his right knee and knocking on it.
Lucifer grinned and settled back into his seat until the lights dimmed and Alastor straightened.
Lucifer pushed the record button, double checked that it was working, then turned his eyes to Alastor.
“Salutations! Good to be back on the air.”
A massive cheer went up from the crowd.
“Ah, I see we have some listeners here. How delightful. For those of you who don’t know, I am Alastor Boudreaux. I graduated from Tulane with a Bachelor’s in English with a minor in Africana studies. I hold a Master's in Black Studies from the University of Chicago and a Combined Ph.D in Black Studies and English from Yale University. I currently teach both English and Black studies courses at Hazbin Community College.”
Holy shit, Lucifer thought. He had no idea Alastor had such a prestigious track record. What the hell was he doing at Hazbin?
“I also host a little podcast called Reading the Silence, currently ranked number 23 on both Spotify and Apple’s Culture and Society section." Another cheer all but shook the walls. "I haven’t surpassed Anderson Cooper or Oprah quite yet, but I’m working on it.”
The crowd laughed.
Holy shit! Lucifer blinked slowly as his brain struggled to catch up. Alastor’s podcast was huge. He was like… famous. Way more relevant than Lucifer was. Should he have security or something?
“So, as you may have surmised, I’m rather passionate about podcasting and teaching, and I’m pleased today to show you how to combine the two. Let’s begin by defining our terms.” He clicked to the next slide, which simply has the word TEXT on it.
Lucifer smiled.
“When most people hear the word text, they think of a book, an article, or maybe, for you, younger folks, a text message. But in the field of literary and cultural studies, text is anything that communicates meaning.”
He clicked to the next slide, which listed criteria for a text.
“If something is created by people, sends a message, intentional or unintentional, and can be interpreted or ‘read,’ then it is a text. A stoplight, for example, is a text that is easily understood — though not always listened to; a person’s outfit sends a message.” He gestured to himself. “A movie, a commercial, a news headline, and even what we don’t say can all be ‘read’. Any questions?”
Goddamn, but he was good.
“Excellent. Then let’s jump right into it shall we?” He clicked to the next slide which boasted, Critical Thinking Through Inquiry-Driven Production. Lucifer didn’t know the first thing about podcasting, but he was pretty sure after this lecture he was going to be using them in the classroom.
“And, as promised, that was our last question for the evening,” Alastor said. “I can’t keep you any longer, as I’m sure you’re all starving. Thank you again for your time and attention, and please enjoy the rest of the conference.”
A deafening roar of applause and cheers filled the room and Alastor bowed, taking it all in.
Lucifer stood, moved the tripod aside and walked up to Alastor to hand back his phone. He was beaten to the punch by several eager fans who were clamoring for autographs. His eyes flicked to Lucifer and he saw the exhaustion there. He hadn’t even taken a drink of water during the presentation. Lucifer jumped into action as Alastor began signing.
Lucifer hustled toward the lobby where he had spotted a vending machine earlier. He bought an overpriced bottle of water and rushed back to Alastor where a queue had formed. He thrust the bottle into Alastor’s hand and the look of gratitude on his face was unmistakable. Lucifer gave him a curt nod and began packing up Alastor’s things. Once he was done, he donned his bag and Alastor’s, then strode confidently over to the taller man.
Alastor sent a woman on her way and before the next one could step forward, Lucifer intercepted.
“I’m sorry, everyone,” Lucifer said in his loudest “teacher voice.” “Alastor has a prior engagement he needs to attend, so he’ll need to be going now.”
There was a collective groan of disappointment.
“You can always reach out to me via email,” he called as he and Lucifer moved toward the exit. His email had been up the entire Q&A session, “Now, I must be off,” he said. “Thank you all again.” Alastor waved as Lucifer shooed him out the door, hoping that his fellow teachers had the decency not to chase after them.
Once they were out the door, Alastor released a massive sigh and chugged his water.
“Thank you,” he said as they started walking toward the exit.
Lucifer just shook his head. “I’m surprised the conference runners didn’t plan for that. They should have assigned you a handler at the very least.”
“A handler?” Alastor asked, his tone incredulous.
“Yes,” Lucifer said firmly. “Someone to do exactly what I just did. How long were you planning on standing there?”
“I suppose I hadn’t thought that far ahead. As a podcaster, I’ve never actually done a public appearance before. I didn’t expect that sort of turnout, and I doubt the event staff did either.”
Lucifer shook his head. “Come on, let’s —”
A small cry from Alastor had him halting in his tracks and spinning around.
Alastor was hunched forward, his weight balanced between his cane and his left leg, his right slightly bent. Lucifer rushed over.
“What’s wrong? What happened?”
“I’m afraid I’ve just dislocated my knee.”
“What?” Lucifer shouted.
“Keep your voice down,” Alastor hissed. “No need to cause a scene!”
Lucifer looked around and saw that several people were staring at them. He smiled and waved until the strangers resumed whatever they had been doing.
“What do we do?” He asked frantically.
“You, calm down,” Alastor said. He sighed. “I shouldn’t walk on it —”
“I’ll get you a chair.” Lucifer moved, but Alastor grabbed his wrist.
“I’d much prefer you help me hobble over to those couches.”
Lucifer looked where he was pointing and, yeah, those were pretty close and made more sense than him running off to grab a chair and sit Alastor in the middle of a hallway. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax and use his brain — he was no use to Alastor if he wasn’t thinking — and looked up at the taller man.
“What do you need me to do?” He asked.
“If you’ll just come around to my right side and take my cane,” he instructed. Lucifer complied. “Now wrap your arm around my waist and pull me snugly against you.” Lucifer did. “Now, when I step with my left foot, I’m going to lean all of my body weight against you, so make sure your legs are staggered, both feet on the ground, knees bent just slightly.”
Lucifer got into position.
“Perfect,” Alastor said. “Ready?”
“Yeah,” Lucifer confirmed.
“Me,” Alastor said, then, using Lucifer as a crutch, Alastor took a step forward. “Now you move forward.”
Lucifer moved slightly ahead.
“Now, me,” Alastor announced.
They continued that way, Alastor chanting “you” and “me” as they went, until they reached the couch.
Alastor collapsed with a heavy sigh and Lucifer noticed a sheen of sweat on his brow. He reached into his pocket and pulled out an honest-to-God handkerchief to wipe at it. Lucifer set both bags down on the couch beside him.
“If you could see about finding a wheelchair, I’m going to find an urgent care.”
“Got it,” Lucifer said solemnly, taking off to find an employee. When he asked for a wheelchair, her eyes went wide and she asked him to wait. When she came back with the requested wheelchair, an extremely harried-looking man was with her, carrying a clipboard.
“Please tell me about the nature of the injury,” he said as they walked. “Was it caused by conference equipment?”
Lucifer stifled his groan but answered in the negative to what he now guessed was whoever was in charge of making sure they didn’t get sued. All that meant was that they were going to have to fill out a bunch of paperwork before they could leave. Lucifer hated paperwork.
He answered as many questions as he could until they reached Alastor, then the man’s eyes shifted to him. He peppered Alastor with questions as Lucifer helped him into the wheelchair. As soon as he was seated, the man thrust the clipboard into Alastor's hands and instructed him to fill out various pages.
He looked up at Lucifer and handed him his phone. “Would you be so kind as to order a ride to St. Ann’s Urgent Care?”
Lucifer pulled up the app and started tapping.
“Is this really necessary?” Alastor asked. “I have a disability that is merely flaring up and causing issues. I haven’t been injured, nor do I intend to sue you.”
“Are-are you refusing to fill out the forms?” The man asked in a wavering voice.
Alastor flipped through them. “All but this one,” he said as he signed. “I release you of any liability.” He handed the pen and clipboard back to the nervous man just as Lucifer requested the ride. He handed the phone back to Alastor and put both of the bags back on. He grabbed the handles of the wheelchair and started pushing Alastor toward the front doors.
“Ah, lucky us,” Alastor said, “my ride will be here in four minutes.”
“Wait, your ride?”
“There’s hardly any need for you to sit around and wait for me to have my patella put back in place.”
“As opposed to sitting in the hotel room by myself, worrying? Besides, how are you going to get out of the car?”
“I was planning on calling St. An's and asking for a chair.”
“Whatever,” Lucifer said. “I’m going with you. Deal with it.”
“I should warn you. It’s a 17-minute ride to the urgent care, they’ll need to do an X-ray and who knows what the lobby looks like. We could be waiting for hours.”
“All the more reason I should go with you. Why did you pick one so far away?”
“I picked one with an X-ray.”
Lucifer nodded.
“It seems like you’ve done this before.”
“Six times on the right, twice on the left.”
“Dear God!”
“Oh, he’s no help, believe me, I’ve asked.”
Lucifer sputtered out a laugh so loud and awkward that everyone around them once again stared.
“Are you religious then?”
“No. Not anymore.”
His tone was somber and laced with pain.
Lucifer understood and let it be.
He wound the conversation back.
“So, I guess you know exactly what to expect then.”
“Yes,” he sighed. “They’ll poke and prod, say that yes, it’s likely dislocated, X-ray it to be sure, and then pop it back into place.”
Lucifer winced.
“That sounds painful.”
“Which part? I’m in pain now, I’ll be in pain until they fix it, it will be painful when they do, and I’ll ache for days after.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean —”
Alastor looked up at him.
“I’m not offended. This is simply my reality. I do not want or need pity or sympathy.”
“Okay,” Lucifer said, starting to feel uncomfortable, “then how about some conversation?”
“That’s more like it,” Alastor said. “Tell me what you thought of my presentation.”
“Oh, it was fantastic!”
Lucifer highlighted his favorite parts the entire way to the urgent care. He asked the driver to wait while he went in and got a chair for Alastor and wheeled him into the lobby. He made himself comfortable while Alastor checked himself in and they shared their favorite presentations with one another while they waited. They had decided that Lucifer would grab sandwiches from the nearby shop while Alastor was being seen. Once his name was called, Lucifer wished him luck and started walking.
He thought about all the new sides of Alastor he had seen during the past two days. Just 48 hours and he felt like he was seeing his co-worker in a whole new light. Guilt tugged at his heart as he realized how harshly he had pre-judged him, and how wrong he had been about him, too.
Sure, he seemed to take absolute glee in verbally tormenting Lucifer but, other than that, he was turning out to be a really nice guy.
And he’s super cute.
The thought stopped Lucifer in his tracks. He could absolutely not be developing a crush on his coworker-slash-enemy that he had a temporary truce with just because the guy was objectively attractive and nice to spend time with!
He shook thoughts of Alastor from his mind and focused his attention on getting food.
When he got back to the urgent care with the sandwiches, Alastor still wasn’t done. Lucifer pulled out his phone and played his tap games until the other man was wheeled back out into the lobby.
“Take it easy,” the woman pushing his chair said.
“I will, thank you,” he responded.
“What’s the verdict?” Lucifer asked.
“A dislocation. Just as I said. It’s back in place now, though I need to avoid walking on it as much as possible.”
Lucifer nodded.
“We can borrow the wheelchair from the conference center again tomorrow, and we’ll make sure to request assistance at the airport on Sunday.”
Alastor smiled at him. “Of course, Dear.”
Lucifer blushed. “Sorry,” he said as he rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m sure you know exactly what you need and I’m probably overstepping.”
“I’ve learned to ask for and accept help when I need it and, right now," he sighed, "I do need it. So thank you, for both the self-awareness, and… for caring.”
Lucifer clenched his fist around the handle of the sandwich bag. “Yeah. Sorry for not caring sooner. I really misjudged you, assumed you thought you were better than me and just… treated you like shit. Sorry.”
Alastor waved his hand. “I enjoy our frequent repartee. It’s nice to see fire in your eyes again.”
“Again?” Lucifer asked.
“Our ride will be here in two minutes,” he said. “Will you help me out of this chair and to the curb to wait?”
Lucifer blinked. “Um, sure. Yeah.”
He and Alastor made their way to the curb just as their ride pulled up and rode to the hotel in silence. Lucifer was busy mulling over Alastor’s words in his head.
It’s nice to see fire in your eyes again.
What did that mean? Had they met before? Why didn’t Lucifer remember him? He wasn’t exactly forgettable.
Once they were back in the room, Alastor limped to the couch and Lucifer handed him his sandwich. It was nearly seven and Lucifer was starving, so he tore into his sub like a man who had never eaten before. When Alastor was done, he gathered up the garbage and assessed him.
“Do you need heat or ice for the pain?”
“Heat, but I’m not sure I have the fortitude to make it down to the pool, and I forgot to pack my heating pad. I suppose I could order one for delivery from a nearby pharmacy —”
“You could just soak in the tub.”
“Pardon?” He squeaked.
Lucifer blushed as he realized the implications of what he’d just said.
“In your swim trunks,” he clarified loudly. “It’s basically hot tub-sized, why not use it as one, right?”
“I suppose,” Alastor said. He took off his shoes and coat, then limped over to the bed where he settled back against the pillows and stretched out his legs. “Would you mind bringing me my bag and a cup of water?”
Lucifer brought Alastor’s bag to him and filled one of the cups by the coffee machine with tap water.
Their fingers brushed as he handed it off.
Alastor tossed the two white tablets from his palm into his mouth and swallowed the water and medication down.
When their eyes met, the question Lucifer had been puzzling over bubbled out of his mouth.
“What did you mean, again? Have we met before? I feel like I would have remembered you.”
A flash of unmistakable hurt flickered over Alastor’s face.
“I thought so too, but here we are.” He spread his hands out wide, then set the cup on the nightstand.
“When?” Lucifer asked.
“2013, Writing for Social Change at Tulane. You said my presentation on podcasting as the future of radio was brilliant.”
“I did?” Lucifer wracked his brain. That was…12 years ago. Before he stopped writing, before Lilith’s breakout role, before the divorce. He had been riding high on fame and success.
“You spoke about the importance of representation in media. About the importance of telling one’s story. The danger of not speaking.”
2013. That was when his little sister Josie had been 17 and had called in tears, terror in her voice as she confessed that she was a girl trapped in a boy’s body. She begged Lucifer to get her away from their Christian extremist parents. He and Lilith had just successfully moved her out when he had to leave for… He remembered. It had been amazing. The whole thing centered around students using their literary skills to make the world a better place. Lucifer had been asked to be the keynote speaker after his latest book had won a GLADD award. But after meeting the students, seeing their ideas of how to make the world a better place, he had floored.
“I was so moved by your speech, by our conversation that day, that I changed my major from communications to literature.”
Lucifer gasped, “You did?”
“I did. In fact, you’re the very reason I started my podcast.”
“I am?” Lucifer asked, feeling extremely uncomfortable.
“Yes,” Alastor spat. He sounded angry. “And you are guilty of the very danger you warned us against.”
Lucifer’s stomach churned.
“Delay after delay on your next book, canceled appearances, until eventually you went silent.”
“When Lilith asked for the divorce I started spiraling,” he confessed, staring down at his empty ring finger. “I tried to keep writing, but the words wouldn’t come anymore.” His eyes started to sting and he clenched them shut.
“She made me go to therapy, for Charlie’s sake, and I got through the depressive episode, but… I just couldn’t go back to writing.”
“I’m aware,” Alastor said with unbridled annoyance. Lucifer winced. “Imagine my shock when I discovered you were teaching. I had the chance to work side-by-side with the man who inspired my entire academic career! I practically owe Rosie my soul for the strings she pulled to get Zestiel to finally retire.”
“I-you-seriously?”
Alastor swung his legs over the side of the bed and leaned closer, his gaze boring into Lucifer. “Only to find a shell of a man in his place. The great Lucifer Morningstar, unmoored.”
“H-hey.”
“I sat in on your lackluster lectures, suffered through your pathetic presentations to the faculty, watching you bob along like a listless ship adrift at sea. You need direction.”
“A compass?” Lucifer said with an eye roll, leaning into Alastor’s metaphor.
Alastor chuckled. “Something like that.” He sighed and leaned out of Lucifer’s space. “When I first teased you about not being a morning person, I saw a glimmer of the man you used to be.”
“So you decided to be an ass to me?”
“I wanted to see your fire again.”
Lucifer smirked. “You think you can single-handedly ignite it?”
Alastor’s eyes went wide and Lucifer watched his cheeks flush a gorgeous russet as his eyes darted away.
Okay, that was way too flirty.
Lucifer was about to back track, but Alastor sat up straighter and when his gaze returned, it was steady and focused.
“Yes.”
Lucifer’s breath caught.
“I refuse to watch you wither away when I know what you are capable of.” He took a deep breath. “I’m also… quite taken with you, if you hadn’t noticed.”
Lucifer’s eyes went wide as a blush crept across his cheeks.
“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait,” Lucifer blurted. “Are you telling me that you think I’m hot?”
Alastor glared even as his cheeks grew darker. “If we were fifteen, then I suppose I might have said that.”
Lucifer had a troubling thought then.
“Hold on,” he said, holding up his hands. “You’re pretty, young, this could get weird.”
He furrowed his brow. “I have a Ph. D. How ‘young’ do you think I am?”
Lucifer frowned and did some quick math. “I dunno, thirty? Thirty-two?”
Alastor threw his head back and laughed. “I’m flattered, but no. I’m thirty-seven.”
“You’re only five years younger than me?”
He waved his hand. “I had a rather late start to school. Maman was… ill.” He blinked, “But yes, just five years your junior, no need to worry about cradle robbing,” he finished with a smirk.
“So, you’re… serious about…”
“You?” He asked. “I am. Call me insane, unhinged, obsessed, but I followed you across the country only to heckle and pester you every chance I had, simply to get a glimpse of that familiar fire in your eyes.”
Doubt immediately settled in.
“But, what happens when the fire goes out?”
You’ll change your mind. You’ll leave just like Lilith did.
Alastor smiled.
“We are flint and steel, Darling. We can’t help but create sparks when we collide. We’ll reignite the fire as many times as it takes.”
He held open his hands for Lucifer. He looked down at Alastor’s long, slender fingers and slowly placed their palms together. Cool fingers wrapped around the back of his hands and he looked up.
“Come here,” Alastor said softly as he pulled Lucifer forward.
Once he stood between Alastor’s legs, he placed a hand on Lucifer’s chest.
“But I’ll do my best to keep it from coming to that, Mon Cher. I’ll protect and nurture the flame in your soul like it was my own. I never want to see you so dark and lost ever again.”
“Al,” Lucifer whispered as his lip trembled. He shook his head. “I’m a terrible partner. Sometimes I get in this fugue state when I’m working on something and I forget to eat or drink and then spend the whole next day in bed, and at its worst, back when I was writing, it would be like that for weeks and —”
“And I’ll be there to take care of you, fueling your flame when it burns at its brightest.”
Lucifer huffed out a wet laugh.
“I’d burn the world down to keep you warm,” Alastor whispered.
The words struck Lucifer straight through the heart. “How far are you going to take this metaphor?”
“In Rumi’s words, ‘Set your life on fire. Seek those who fan your flames,’” Alastor said with a smirk.
“Seriously?” Lucifer chuckled, “How do I shut you up?”
“I think you know exactly how.”
Lucifer placed his hands on either side of Alastor’s face, brushing his thumbs across his still flushed cheeks. Alastor’s hands landed gently on Lucifer’s hips, pulling him flush against the bed. Lucifer leaned forward and down, bringing their lips together in a soft, tentative kiss.
Lucifer pulled back and Alastor surged forward. A hand slid up Lucifer’s back, holding him still as Alastor kissed him again. It ignited something in Lucifer’s chest he thought he’d never feel again. He trembled and leaned into Alastor, tilting the man’s head back and opening his own lips to deepen their kiss. The exchange was slow but passionate, but when Alastor licked into his mouth, Lucifer shivered and moaned in response.
They tumbled back onto the bed, Alastor flat on his back and Lucifer hovering over him. They stared at one another with wide eyes.
“Is this too fast?” Lucifer asked.
“No,” Alastor said firmly. He took off his glasses, setting them on the nightstand. He scooted back on the bed and held his hand out for Lucifer. Lucifer crawled over to Alastor, and once he was within reach, Alastor pulled them together, kissing Lucifer as if he might never get the chance again.
He slid his hands under Lucifer’s t-shirt. “Can I take this off?” He asked.
Lucifer nodded and lifted his arms as Alastor pulled the shirt over his head. Lucifer tossed it to the side.
“Yours too?” He whispered against Alastor’s mouth as his fingers trailed over the other man’s tie.
“Please,” he whined.
Lucifer didn’t waste another second. He tugged Alastor’s tie loose with pure haste, then set to work on the buttons of his shirt, kissing his way down his neck and chest as he went. When his lips made contact with the first patch of sparse chest hair, Lucifer froze. His inexperience suddenly at the forefront of his mind, he sat up and stared down at Alastor’s half-unbuttoned shirt.
“Lucifer? What’s wrong?”
He blinked up at Alastor’s too handsome face and blushed.
“I’ve never been with a man before,” he confessed quietly.
Alastor smiled sweetly up at him.
“I happen to be a teacher by trade,” he said. “I’m more than happy to give you lessons.”
Lucifer huffed out a nervous laugh as he blushed, but that was only half of the problem, really. Alastor had no idea how pitiful Lucifer’s love life really was.
“It’s not just that. It’s, well, I’ve never been with anyone but my wife.” He immediately started rambling. “I never really had time to date or even actually make friends, even in college, cause I was still at home and I’ve got the big family and they needed my help with babysitting and it wasn’t until I was in grad school that I met Lilith and —”
“Lucifer,” Alastor said firmly.
He stopped talking and took a deep breath.
“I don’t care.” He held up his hand. “Let me rephrase. I do care. I care deeply about you, but I don’t care about who you have or have not had sex with. Would you like a list of my previous partners?”
Lucifer grimaced. “No!”
“Then why would I be concerned about yours?”
Lucifer bit his lip.
“Is this about… performance issues?” Alastor asked.
Lucifer went bright red. “No,” he shouted. “I’ll have you know my right hand has had plenty of action over the last seven years.”
He blinked.
Alastor laughed.
His face went even redder and he buried his head in his hands.
When Alastor was done laughing, he sighed and wiped at his eyes.
“If we’re confessing intimate sexual knowledge, I suppose you should know that I’m asexual.”
Lucifer looked down at the junction between Alastor’s legs, confused, but as little as he knew about current parlance around sex and gender, he knew better than to assume anything.
“What does that mean?”
“To me, it means that I don’t want to have sex nearly as often as most people do. And sometimes when I do have sex, I don’t become fully aroused, and I’m perfectly happy with that.”
Lucifer opened his mouth to ask —
“And it’s not an issue of testosterone, or my hEDS, or some medical malady; it is simply how I experience my sexuality.”
He sighed and seemed to droop into the bed.
“Not everything has to be about sex,” Lucifer said gently.
Alastor raised an eyebrow at him with unadulterated sass. Lucifer rolled his eyes.
“I know, I know. I’m reminding myself as much as I’m… making a promise to you.”
Alastor’s sassy eyebrows shot straight up.
“A promise?” He asked quietly.
“That even though we are making out on the bed in the honeymoon suite of a hotel, that this,” he waved his hand between the two of them, “doesn’t have to be just about sex.”
Alastor hummed.
“I think,” Lucifer said shyly, “I might want to keep our truce going even after this trip is over.”
Alastor grinned. “I find your terms agreeable enough. Though” he ran his hands up Lucifer’s bare chest, “seeing as we find ourselves alone, in the bed of the honeymoon suite, can we make this about sex for the next little while?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Lucifer agreed. He leaned back over Alastor and hastily unbuttoned his shirt. He pushed it as far off of Alastor’s shoulders as he could — what with him lying on it — and set to work kissing every inch of his exposed skin.
It was so soft and smooth, almost velvety against his lips, and he lavished Alastor’s entire torso with attention. He worked his way across his collarbone, forcing Alastor to lift his chin and expose his neck, so Lucifer spent some time there too. He moved down to his dusky nipples and sucked one into his mouth while he rolled the other between his fingers.
“Ah,” Alastor cried out, “careful, I… ah, fuck that feels good,” he sighed. “I bruise easily, so be gentle.”
He pulled his mouth off Alastor’s nipple with an obscene smack and smirked down at him.
“I can be gentle,” he purred.
Alastor choked as Lucifer bent down for seconds, taking Alastor’s left nipple into his mouth and tenderly circling his right.
He stifled a moan behind his pursed lips and Lucifer paused to look up at him.
“C’mon, Alastor,” he murmured as he pulled on the other man’s chin, coaxing his mouth open, “we’re in the honeymoon suite, no need to be quiet.”
Alastor’s eyes snapped open just in time for Lucifer to catch the wicked gleam in them. He ducked his head, capturing Lucifer’s thumb in his mouth, and began swirling his tongue around the digit.
Lucifer gasped and his already semi-hard cock twitched in interest.
He whimpered in slack-jawed awe as Alastor began to bob his head up and down. Then a pair of long, slender hands grabbed his hips and began rolling his groin against Alastor’s.
“Oh, God,” Lucifer shouted as they lined up perfectly and the friction between them sent sparks up his spine. “A-Alastor,” Lucifer whimpered.
He hummed in response and Lucifer’s mind was filled with images of that talented mouth between his legs doing the sensuous tricks his talented tongue was working, and he resolved to get both of them naked immediately. He yanked his thumb back and shimmied his way down Alastor’s body.
Alastor let out a pained cry.
“Are you okay?” Lucifer asked.
He nodded, though his face said otherwise.
“That was a stupid question; you’re obviously not okay.” He carefully sat beside Alastor. “What happened? What did I do?”
“You didn’t do anything, Darling. It’s my knee.”
Alastor still looked like he was fighting back pain.
“Right,” Lucifer said as his hands hovered above Alastor’s leg. “You were going to take a bath, but we got distracted.”
Alastor laughed. “It was a welcome distraction.”
“This can wait until you’re feeling better.”
“Promise?”
Lucifer nodded, then stood. “Promise.” He offered his hand, but Alastor shook his head. He unzipped his pants, then slid them down his hips — which Lucifer watched with rapt attention — then sat up and fully removed his shirt.
“Would you mind?”
Lucifer jerked his eyes up to Alastor’s face, who was looking at him with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.
“Sorry,” he shouted as he threw his hands up and stepped back, “I didn’t mean to —”
“I meant this,” he said as he held out his shirt. “Would you mind hanging this up for me?”
“Oh. Right. Yeah. No problem.”
He hung up Alastor’s shirt, then went back to the bed to snag Alastor’s discarded pants just in time to see his knee. It was red, swollen, and tinged with dark bruises that promised to get darker by morning. It looked like he had smashed it on something.
“Jesus Christ, Al,” he hissed.
“It looks worse than it is, I assure you.”
Lucifer grabbed Alastor’s cane and hurried to his side. “Do you want this, or would it be better if I supported you so you don’t put any more weight on it?”
Alastor snorted. “No need to turn into a worry wart,” he said as he took his cane, “I’ve told you I —” he hissed again as he stood, wobbling slightly as he balanced on his uninjured leg.
Lucifer frowned as he looked Alastor up and down. He was taller than Lucifer, but skinny as Hell, he could probably…
He stepped up to Alastor, projecting more confidence than he actually felt and said, “Hold on to me,” as he took Alastor’s cane and set it against the bed.
Alastor placed his hands on Lucifer’s shoulders.
Lucifer reached around Alastor and grabbed him under the thighs, lifting him up. Alastor released a bleating, panic-filled noise and scrabbling like a wet cat, wrapped his legs around Lucifer’s waist, clutching onto his shoulders.
Lucifer laughed but, once he was secure, he started walking toward the tub.
“This is entirely unnecessary and far more dangerous than letting me walk! You’re half my size!”
“I’m maybe eight inches shorter than your lanky ass. Calm down.”
Alastor huffed his displeasure.
Lucifer gave his ass a squeeze before setting him on the edge of the massive tub.
Alastor swatted at him, then turned his attention to the faucet.
He stared fondly at the man who just days before he had called his sworn enemy, then turned to survey the basket of bath items on the edge of the jacuzzi.
“You want a bath bomb?” He asked.
“What in the hell is a bath bomb?”
“It’s… like bubble bath,” Lucifer explained, “but dry? Well, no, I guess that would make it more like bath salts.” He held up one of the wrapped balls. “You put them in the water and they get all fizzy!” People were always gifting Lilith stuff like that when he was on press tours, but Lucifer enjoyed them more than she and her sensitive skin ever did. “And they smell nice!”
“I suppose,” Alastor said slowly as he plugged the tub.
“Let’s see what we have.” He started sifting through the collection, noting the fragrances and boasted benefits. “Ooh,” he said, holding up a blue and white ball. “This one’s called Oasis,” he said as he gave it a sniff. “Smells nice. It says it’s for . . . uh, muscle recovery.”
That had interesting implications in the honeymoon suite.
“It certainly won’t hurt to try.” Lucifer turned his back, unwrapping the bath bomb as Alastor took off his underwear and eased himself into the water.
Once he heard splashing, he dropped the bath bomb in the water, where it immediately began fizzing and moved away from the tub. He clapped his hands together.
“Alright, looks like you’re all set. I’ll just…”
“You’re leaving?”
“Uh, well, I just figured —”
“This is an awfully large bath,” he said, gesturing to the tub, which was more than big enough for both of them. “I’m likely to get lost at sea if left alone.”
Lucifer snorted.
Alastor rested his elbow on the edge of the tub and placed his head in his palm. “I’ll need the Morningstar to navigate by.”
Lucifer groaned. “You are so cheesy.”
Alastor smirked. “Are you going to join me or not?”
Lucifer bit his lower lip. “Yeah,” he said, “let me just…” he gestured to his pants and hurried over to his suitcase. He hastily stripped out of his pants, folded them, and placed them atop his other clothes. He grabbed Alastor’s off the floor and hung them up as well. He stripped off his socks and stared down at his body. No one but his doctor had seen him this undressed in nearly a decade. He thumbed at the waistband of his underwear. With a deep breath, he removed those, too. He piled his undergarments in a corner and nervously turned to look at Alastor.
“I’m… um… I’ll just get in now.”
Alastor was reclined against the slope of the tub with his eyes closed. He rolled his head toward Lucifer and opened his eyes. They widened slightly, and Lucifer clenched his fists at his sides while Alastor’s gaze roamed every inch of him. He felt himself flush and resisted the urge to suck in his gut. It wouldn’t help with the love handles anyway.
“S-see something you like?” Lucifer stuttered nervously.
Alastor’s eyes snapped to his. “Yes,” he answered, voice low and intense.
Lucifer sucked in a breath. “Oh.”
“Join me?”
Lucifer didn’t need to be asked twice. He settled in on the opposite side of the tub, raising the water level below Alastor’s nipples. They both sat with their feet resting at the opposite side of the tub, touching as little as possible. Alastor let the bath fill until it was nearly up to Lucifer’s shoulders before turning off the water.
They soaked in silence for a few moments, Lucifer’s stomach twisting nervously.
“Is there a particular reason you’re all the way over there?” Alastor asked.
“Huh?”
“We’d fit more comfortably if you were over here.”
“You’re sure?”
“Come here,” Alastor demanded as he opened his legs.
His eyes darted down, but the foggy coloring from the bath bomb prevented him from actually seeing anything.
Mindful of Alastor’s knee, Lucifer carefully turned around and scooted back until his was pressed against Alastor’s chest. Alastor wrapped an arm around Lucifer’s torso and leaned them back. Lucifer’s head rested on Alastor’s shoulder, his own nearly submerged.
“I’m not too heavy?” He asked.
“Please,” Alastor scoffed as he pressed against Lucifer’s tense shoulders, “I’m not some delicate orchid liable to wither at an errant touch.”
Lucifer snorted and relaxed against the warmth of Alastor’s body.
Alastor slipped his arms under Lucifer’s to wrap his torso in a hug, then hummed happily. They soaked peacefully, listening to nothing more than the lapping of the bathwater and the mingling of their breath while Alastor gently ran his hands across Lucifer’s skin. It was euphoria to be held and touched again, and he nuzzled into Alastor’s neck and trailed gentle touches of his own over Alastor’s arms.
Alastor’s long fingers brushed a nipple.
Lucifer gasped.
Alastor did it again and Lucifer arched into the sensation, his cock twitching in interest.
“You like that?” Alastor whispered.
“Yeah,” Lucifer whispered back.
He hummed and put his other hand to work.
Lucifer hissed and writhed under Alastor’s clever fingers, throwing his head back and arching into the touch. Alastor took advantage of the position, sucking firm, wet kisses against his neck and shoulders. Then Alastor’s right hand slipped lower, ghosting over his abdomen, then belly button, before pausing.
“Please, Alastor,” Lucifer begged, “touch me.”
“Anything you want, Mon Cher.”
Lucifer whimpered as Alastor’s hand teasingly moved lower and lower until it finally grasped Lucifer’s hard cock.
“Fuck,” he moaned, rocking into Alastor’s grip.
The other man set an excruciating pace, an agonizing slowness that threatened to drive Lucifer mad. He grasped Alastor’s thighs for something to help him cling to his own sanity as he rocked his hips in a counter rhythm to his lover’s hand.
On one particularly enthusiastic thrust backward, he felt something hard push back.
“Oh, Al,” he whined, “I wanna — can I — ngh — touch you too?”
“Yes,” he all but growled in Lucifer’s ear. Alastor slid their bodies forward and in a lust-addled fog of confusion, Lucifer was manhandled to face Alastor with murmurs of “put your legs over mine,” and “on your knees,” and “easy,” until finally their cocks pressed together.
“Just like that,” Alastor breathed against his lips as he captured Lucifer in a deep, tender kiss.
His left hand on the small of Lucifer’s back pulled him impossibly closer, and he tightened his grip on Alastor’s shoulders.
Alastor’s slender fingers easily wrapped both of their cocks in his grip.
Lucifer moaned into the kiss and pressed against Alastor in every way he could, as if they could somehow be closer. Lucifer wished it were possible, desperate for more, greedy for every part of Alastor he could claim in this moment.
Alastor’s pace was no longer slow, but was somehow just as torturous. He set a steady, relentless rhythm that drove Lucifer toward a peak so high he couldn’t fathom it. His mind was a haze of Alastor, and yes, and please, while the man before him played his body like Lucifer was an instrument handcrafted just for him.
“Al, AL,” was all he managed before he was spilling into the water, panting against wet skin.
Alastor held them still in his fist and lavished his neck with kisses as he came down.
He dropped his head against Alastor’s shoulder and caught his breath, while Alastor rubbed his back.
“You are absolutely stunning,” Alastor said.
Lucifer smiled weakly and lifted his head. Alastor’s face was flushed russet at his cheeks and his hair was slightly frizzy from the humidity. Lucifer trailed his right hand down Alastor’s stomach.
“Will you let me take care of this?”
Wide-eyed, Alastor nodded.
“Lay back,” Lucifer encouraged.
Alastor leaned against the slope of the tub and Lucifer gripped Alastor’s long, hard cock in his hand. He worked his grip up and down the length, slightly dreading the learning curve he was going to have to overcome when it came to giving blow jobs.
“Oh. Lucifer,” Alastor moaned as his eyelids fluttered closed. His spent cock twitched in response to the vision in front of him and he knew he would do whatever Alastor wanted in the bedroom. Anything to see and hear him like this.
“Tell me more,” he coaxed as he tightened and twisted his grip.
“Ah, oh fuck!”
“Tell me what you want, Alastor.”
“Y-you,” he whimpered. He grabbed Lucifer’s hips and dug his fingers in. “I want you all to myself.”
Lucifer leaned forward to whisper in Alastor’s ear.
“I’m right here, Boudreaux,” Alastor cried out and bucked his hips, “what are you going to do now that you have me?”
Alastor’s eyes opened and he looked up at Lucifer, “I — I want… I want you inside me,” he moaned.
Lucifer’s own eyes went wide because, holy shit, that was hot!
“Y-yeah?” He asked, trying to maintain his composure.
“Yeeeees,” Alastor moaned.
Lucifer slid his left hand down over Alastor’s balls, down his perineum, then barely brushed his whorled hole.
“Here?” Lucifer asked.
“Yes!”
Lucifer rubbed circles against the puckered skin, pumping Alastor’s cock faster.
“Inside, inside,” Alastor begged.
Lucifer pushed, easily breaching the rim.
Alastor curled forward and the cock in Lucifer’s hand jerked violently.
He watched with rapt attention as Alastor came, his own dick twitching at the eroticism of the sight. Alastor was a work of art worthy of a poet’s time and talent. He worshiped him, peppering Alastor’s slick skin with kisses as the man caught his breath.
He slid his finger free and Alastor sighed and rested his head atop Lucifer’s.
They sat there for a moment, just holding each other, breathing together, until Alastor lifted his head.
“It’s time to drain the tub,” he said. “You know how I feel about soaking in bodily fluids.”
Lucifer laughed and stood. He climbed out of the bath and grabbed one of the towels that were folded neatly on top of two robes beside the basket of bath bombs and toiletries. He quickly dried off, then donned one of the terry cloth robes. He then devoted his full attention to Alastor, who was sitting on the edge of the tub, drying his legs.
When he was done, Lucifer traded Alastor’s towel for the other robe and went to the bathroom to hang the towels to dry. When he got back, Alastor was sitting on the bed, long legs stretched out in front of him. The robe barely touched his knees, but on Lucifer it hung clear down to his shins. Alastor was tapping on his phone, so Lucifer grabbed his own and joined him on the bed.
“I’m putting in an order from the pharmacy. Do you want anything? I’m getting a Gatorade.”
“Ooh. If they have Fruit Punch, get me that, or Grape.”
Alastor nodded and kept tapping.
Lucifer texted Charlie that the second day of the conference was over and asked how she and her roommate were enjoying their break.
When Alastor set his phone down, so did Lucifer.
Lucifer looked at the man sitting beside him and his stomach fluttered. There was so much more to Alastor than he would have ever guessed, so much depth and passion and creativity that Lucifer didn’t know the first thing about. He wanted to, though.
He wanted to know everything about Alastor.
“You said that you had an episode coming out on Sunday?”
Alastor smiled.
“That's correct.”
“What’s it about?”
His smile faltered. “It’s not exactly a cheerful topic.”
“Then it’s probably an important one.”
He nodded.
“It is.”
“Then I want to hear all about it.”
Lucifer was hanging on Alastor’s every word as he recounted his frequent times as a guest on some show called Vox Populi.
“Then Vincent proposed a partnership as if it were something mutually beneficial!”
Lucifer gasped.
“But he’s nothing but a spineless trend chaser. He feeds the masses exactly what they want to hear. There’s no room for an opposing voice. He didn’t want me for insightful dialogue; he wanted my audience, my numbers.”
“Sounds like a tool.”
“He is. And I laughed right in his face and —” A knock on the door interrupted them. “That will be my order,” Alastor said.
Lucifer jumped off the bed. “I’ll grab it.”
When he opened the door, the petite man who had checked them in was holding two plastic bags that were tied shut. “This is for an Alastor Boudreaux.”
“You’re in the right place,” he said with a smile. “Thanks.” Lucifer took the bags, one much heavier than the other, and set them next to Alastor. He handed Lucifer a bright red Gatorade and pulled out a blue one. He opened it and locked eyes with Lucifer.
He knew a challenge when he saw one.
They both opened their bottles and began drinking.
It was lukewarm, but that only made it easier to chug. He may not have partied in college, but he practically lived off of cheap protein shakes in lieu of packing lunches or making dinner, so he was a pro at this! When he was done with his drink, he sighed loudly, slammed it down on the bed, and glanced haughtily over at Alastor. He was only halfway through his own drink and when their eyes met, he snorted.
“It wasn’t a race,” he said.
Lucifer flushed, feeling like an idiot. “But…” he stuttered. “That look you gave me.”
“Oh? Am I not allowed to look at you now?”
“No,” he pouted. “I just thought we were racing.”
Alastor laughed again, bright and cheerful as he set his drink down on the nightstand. He pulled out a box and opened it to reveal an old-fashioned ice bag.
Lucifer leaned closer. “I’ve only ever seen these in cartoons,” he said.
Alastor chuckled. “They are perfect for sitting on sore joints. I find typical ice packs to be too stiff. These are much more flexible. I forgot to pack the one I have at home.”
“Do you want me to go fill it now?”
“Not yet, but if you wouldn’t mind getting ice for it.” He nodded to the ice bucket.
“Sure thing,” Lucifer slipped on his pajama pants under the robe, not bothering with his underwear for such a short trip, then grabbed his key-card and headed for the ice machine. As he walked, his mind drifted to Alastor. They had all but demolished the walls between them in the last 48 hours. He shook his head. It was wild that he could feel so connected to someone in just two days.
He blushed. He couldn’t believe that they’d hooked up. He ran his hand down his face and groaned. He’d hooked up with his co-worker! Worse, he had absolutely no regrets. Worse still, he wanted more. Not just sex, but he wanted to spend time with Alastor, get to know him, take him on dates, take him home.
He turned off the ice machine and took a deep breath. He needed to slow down. Take his time. Make sure the two of them really clicked.
Lucifer bit his lip as he walked back to the hotel room. He really wanted them to click. He set the ice on the counter and turned to Alastor with a smile. He was holding something in each hand and staring down at them.
“Hey,” Lucifer said. “What else did you get?”
His head snapped up and his entire face was terra-cotta red. “I may have been… forgive me if I’m being too forward, but,” he cleared his throat and held up a box of condoms and a tube of lube. His eyes darted away. “I thought it would be better to be prepared, but now that I’m looking at them —” He let out a strangled laugh.
Lucifer’s own face heated at the implications. “For what it’s worth,” he said as he approached the bed. “I don’t think it’s too forward.” He sat down beside Alastor. “I think it’s smart.” Alastor’s eyes searched his face. “And kind of hot.”
“Oh,” Alastor asked, raising one eyebrow.
“Yeah,” Lucifer said quietly. Butterflies surged in his stomach. “I... I’m not going to have any idea what I’m doing, but,” he placed his hand on Alastor’s cheek, “I am very eager to learn.”
“How eager?” Alastor whispered, leaning forward.
“Fucking impatient,” Lucifer answered, crashing their mouths together.
Three open mouthed kisses in Lucifer was already caressing Alastor’s tongue with his own. The clash of their drink flavors was horrible and they both pulled back.
“We should have got the same kind,” Alastor chuckled. He set his items on the bed and tugged at the knot of Lucifer’s robe.
“I guess I’ll have to find other things to do with my tongue,” he said as he stood to discard his clothing. He carefully settled himself over Alastor’s legs, making sure to put no weight on him, and began gently kissing his neck.
“I’ll try not to leave any bruises,” he whispered against the skin.
Alastor shivered. “You can leave one or two.”
Lucifer moaned.
“I rather like the idea of your mark on my skin.”
“Fuck, Al.”
He hummed. “That comes later.”
“Jesus!”
Cool hands slid across Lucifer’s back. “Oh, no. None of that. My name is the only one you’ll be calling in bed.”
“Possessive?” Lucifer asked as he sucked a dusky nipple into his mouth.
“Yes,” Alastor growled.
Lucifer hummed and lapped carefully, not wanting to leave the already tender flesh sore.
Alastor’s finger’s pressed into his skin.
“I’m all yours,” Lucifer promised, admiring out loud what he already felt.
Alastor whimpered. “You can’t possibly mean that. We’ve only barely stopped arguing.”
“You’re the only person I’ve touched since my divorce.” He breathed against Alastor’s skin as he kissed his way to his other nipple. “The only person I want to touch. You captured my attention the moment we met. I thought we were oil and water, but you were right about us being flint and steel.”
He swirled his tongue around Alastor’s nipple, coaxing a wanton moan from the man beneath him.
“If we break up, I will make you miserable,” Alastor hissed.
“Then we’ll stay together.”
“I don’t fight fair. I’m cruel in an argument.”
“Then we’ll never fight.”
Lucifer kissed his way down Alastor’s chest. “That’s impossible.” Alastor told him.
“Fine then. We’ll have terrible fights and great make-up sex,” Lucifer promised as he untied Alastor’s robe.
“Mind-blowing make-up sex,” Alastor whined and he threaded his hands into Lucifer’s hair.
“It’s a deal.” He kissed the skin just below Alastor’s navel; then lower, stopping just above where his hair shifted from wispy and near invisible to dark and coarse.
Alastor’s cock jumped and tapped the underside of Lucifer’s chin. Nerves churned in his belly, but he kissed his way down until he was eye to eye with Alastor’s half-hard cock.
He’d watched Lilith enough times, and certainly seen enough porn to know what he was supposed to do in theory, and he was a pro at cunnilingus, but this monster was… well, impressive.
He reached for Alastor, but remembered what he’d said about being asexual, and Lucifer wasn’t really sure what that meant, and he needed consent.
“Al,” he asked, his voice more steady than he felt.
“Yes, Darling?” He sighed.
“Can I go down on you?”
His cock kicked up again, surging right before Lucifer’s eyes, causing his own to throb with desire.
“Yes, Lu, yes.”
Lucifer nodded and grasped Alastor’s cock in his hand. It pulsed at the touch and Lucifer moaned. He tentatively slipped the tip into his mouth and swirled his tongue around it.
Alastor cried out and grabbed at Lucifer’s hands, snagging his left and pressing it firmly to his right hip.
“Hold me steady. You don’t want any surprises while you’re learning.”
Lucifer moaned, swirling his tongue again.
He felt Alastor rock his hips upward, but Lucifer held him down.
Lucifer flicked and twirled his tongue over the sensitive tip of Alastor’s cock, causing it to grow stiffer in Lucifer’s grasp. He took a steadying breath and sank lower, letting each ridge and bump glide over his tongue.
“Lucifer!”
He hummed, then sucked, increasing the pressure in his mouth.
“Ah!” Alastor cried.
Lucifer began moving his head up and down at a leisurely pace, only daring to take two-thirds of Alastor’s cock into his mouth and holding the rest in his fist.
“Oh, Lucifer,” Alastor crooned, his voice going deep and low.
It sent all of Lucifer’s blood southward and he began rocking his hips against the bed.
“You’re doing so well,” he gasped, “and I love the way you’re making me feel.”
Lucifer whimpered at the praise. He was absolutely weak for it.
“But I need you to stop.”
Lucifer immediately froze and withdrew, his stomach clenching in worry. Had he done something wrong? He always made sure Lili came first, he loved watching her —
“I want you inside me,” Alastor said, clearing Lucifer’s mind of any other thoughts, “and I think I’ve been patient long enough.” He reached over and grabbed the lube.
“Oh,” Lucifer breathed, his entire body humming with arousal.
Alastor’s eyes flickered over Lucifer’s face. “Is… that alright?” He asked carefully.
Lucifer’s eyes went wide and he scrambled to sit up. “Yes, fuck, yes. One hundred percent yes!”
Alastor laughed and flicked open the lube. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.” He poured a generous amount onto his fingers and drew his left leg up. Lucifer’s eyes followed his slick fingers down, down, down.
He swallowed hard when he rubbed two fingers against his entrance.
Alastor shivered.
“Are you okay?” Lucifer whispered.
“It’s cold,” Alastor huffed.
Lucifer nodded, entranced by the motion of Alastor’s graceful fingers and his breathy sighs. He watched, mesmerized, as Alastor slowly pressed his pointer finger inside. Lucifer grew hot, remembering how he had done the same earlier in the bath. Alastor had been so tight, had clenched around him as he came.
A long low moan had him snapping his eyes to Alastor’s face.
His eyebrows were drawn together and he was biting his lip. He was exquisite.
Lucifer’s gaze flickered between Alastor’s hand and his face as he thrust in and out, occasionally swirling his finger and gasping when he did.
It was unbelievably erotic.
Alastor withdrew, squirted more lube on his hand, and pushed in with two fingers. He was less gentle this time, his thrusts faster, and Lucifer wanted. “Al,” he croaked.
Alastor peeked open one eye, but didn’t stop.
Fuck that’s hot!
“Can I try?”
Alastor bucked his hips up and whined. “Yes, God, yes, please!” Alastor removed his fingers, grabbed Lucifer’s hand, and slapped the bottle of lube into his hand. “There’s no such thing as too much lube.”
Lucifer poured a generous amount on his fingers then rubbed them together to warm it. He took a deep breath then slid his fingers into Alastor’s winking hole.
“Fuck, Al,” he gasped as his fingers slipped right in. He was so, so hot and tight, the thought of his cock in there made Lucifer whine in anticipation.
“Spread your fingers, as you move outwards, mmmm, but, d-dont pull all the way out.”
“Yeah, okay, yeah.”
Lucifer did exactly as he was instructed, moving slowly and rhythmically in and out of Alastor’s heat as he rocked his hips in tiny little thrusts.
“Al,” Lucifer breathed, scooting closer.
“Three,” Alastor demanded. “Three fingers, don’t stretch them just yet.”
Lucifer lubed up his left hand so he could pull Alastor’s bent knee close to him. He caressed and kissed every inch of skin he could reach, then slid lower on the bed. His cocked rubbed against the comforter as he went, providing delicious friction.
Still keeping his pace, Lucifer began to peck and nibble playfully at the inside of Alastor’s thigh.
“Lucifer,” he gasped.
He hummed against the skin in response.
“Start-start stretching now.”
Lucifer immediately obeyed, causing Alastor to moan and throw his head back. He started rocking in time with Lucifer’s thrusts and soon, skin was slapping against skin each time they came together.
“Enough, enough,” Alastor groaned.
Lucifer removed his hand, causing Alastor to whine. He sat up and looked down at his lover.
Alastor was flushed down to his chest and his hands were fisted in his unruly curls. His lips were wet and swollen and, when open, his eyes were dilated and glossy.
He was a vision.
“Condom,” he mumbled, removing his hand to point at the box.
“Yeah.” Lucifer hurried off the bed and tore into the packaging. He fumbled with the connected foil packets until he found the end, then ripped into it without bothering to tear it away. He rolled the condom on as he climbed back between Alastor’s legs.
The other man reached out with no hesitation and slathered Lucifer’s erection with lube.
He bucked into the touch as Alastor made sure he was covered. He then spread the rest on his own cock, sliding his fist up and down with a low moan.
“Al,” Lucifer begged.
“I know,” he said.
He grabbed each of his slim thighs and pulled them toward his shoulders. His eyes met Lucifer’s and he nodded, moving forward and placing his hand on the scant curve of Alastor’s ass. He steadied his cock then pressed the glans against Alastor’s pink hole. He met resistance when he pushed and flicked his gaze down to Alastor.
“Keep going.”
Lucifer gently leaned into the pressure until all at once it gave way.
Both men gasped in unison. Lucifer’s hands clenched around his cock and Alastor’s ass.
“You’re so tight,” he hissed. “Are you sure —”
“Yes,” Alastor said softly. “I am absolutely sure. Don’t stop.”
With a nod, Lucifer pushed forward until his hips were flush against Alastor’s body. Alastor clenched and tensed around him as Lucifer bit his lip.
“G-give me a moment,” Alastor said, his voice reedy and thin.
“Okay,” Lucifer agreed. He took a steadying breath and caressed Alastor’s legs. He looked up at Alastor. His eyes were closed, brows drawn together, his mouth open and panting.
Lucifer’s heart clenched at the sight. How had he ever hated someone so stunning?
Long, dark eyelashes fluttered, and Alastor blinked open eyes heavy with desire.
“Al,” Lucifer whispered, enraptured by the man beneath him.
He let go of his legs and reached toward Lucifer. “Come here,” he demanded.
Lucifer was helpless, unable, and unwilling to resist the command. He leaned down. Alastor curled forward to meet him, crashing together in a fiery, messy kiss.
Alastor bit gently at Lucifer’s bottom lip and rocked his hips. Lucifer moaned into his mouth and took the hint.
Bracing himself on the bed, caging Alastor beneath him, he rocked his hips backward.
The friction, warmth, and pressure were like nothing he’d ever experienced. It was maddening. How was he supposed to last like this?
He focused his attention on Alastor, watching his expression, taking in every breath, whimper, and moan as he rocked back and forth, intent on his pleasure.
Alastor planted his feet on the bed and lifted his hips. Lucifer sat up, shifting his weight so he could hold Alastor in position.
He cried out. “Yes, there, right there!”
Lucifer rocked back and forth over the area, with quick, shallow thrusts. It sent Alastor into a chorus of punchy little cries that were sending Lucifer hurtling toward his peak.
“Close,” he gasped.
Alastor grasped his cock and began rapidly fisting it.
“Yes,” he groaned, “come with me Lucifer.”
His eyes zeroed in on Alastor’s hand watching for his orgasm. He didn’t need to.
Alastor went stiff beneath him, his back arching impossibly far, and pulsed around Lucifer. He went careening over the edge, the world narrowing down to nothing but the euphoria singing through his body.
His hearing came back first; Alastor’s panting coaxed him into opening his eyes.
The man beneath him was a mess. He was flushed tawny from his forehead head to his pecks, where pearly white cum shone brightly against his heated skin. Beads of sweat glistened at his hairline, dampening his chestnut hair at the roots. His head was a halo of untamed curls, stretched out or flattened by his thrashing. Best of all was his expression, one of pure satisfaction, eyes closed with a small contented smile on his kiss-swollen lips.
When Alastor opened his eyes, Lucifer’s heart thudded painfully in his chest.
Is it too soon to be in love?
Alastor reached up and cupped Lucifer’s face. He leaned into the touch as Alastor brushed his cheek with his thumb.
No, he answered. I’ll just keep it to myself for a while.
Alastor sighed heavily.
“We should get cleaned up,” he said, looking down at his chest.
Reality came crashing down on Lucifer at once. He looked down where he was softening inside Alastor.
“Oh, God,” he shouted, “yes, absolutely, hang on, I’ll get you a rag.”
He gripped the base of the condom and slowly pulled out, hissing at the drag on his oversensitive cock.
“Thank you,” Alastor said as Lucifer rushed to the bathroom to dispose of the condom. He grabbed a rag, wet it, then rushed back to Alastor and began gently cleaning his chest. “I can —”
“Shh,” Lucifer interrupted. “Let me take care of you.”
Alastor’s face scrunched in displeasure.
“Not because I think you need to be taken care of,” he clarified. “Because I want to. Because I… care about you.” He blushed.
“Oh.” Alastor turned his head to the side. “Carry on then.”
Lucifer cleaned his chest, his hands, and carefully cleaned his spent cock — though he was tempted to use his mouth. His eyes were then drawn to Alastor’s knee, which was looking awful.
“Are you ready for that ice now?”
“Yes, thank you. If you’ll just fill the pouch with ice, then add some water.”
Lucifer followed Alastor’s directions and brought the ice bag to him. He set it on his knee with a wince. Lucifer looked him over. He was still red and sweaty.
“Do you want me to turn the thermostat down? You look overheated.”
“I am. As I said, my body is terrible at regulating my temperature, but it’s not worth the trouble of messing with the thermostat because in an hour I’ll be freezing again.”
“Gotcha.”
Lucifer tried to think of ways he could help Alastor cool down. He hopped off the bed, dug through his bag, and grabbed his conference program. He brought it over and used it to fan Alastor.
“Oh, that’s lovely, Darling, but I can —”
“Let me pamper you,” he interrupted. “We’re in the honeymoon suite, after all.”
Alastor laughed. “I suppose we are.”
Neither of them spoke and Lucifer started to think.
Are we moving too fast? I did the same thing with Lilith and look how that ended up! He’s going to get sick of me and leave. This isn’t going to work. I should just —
“Lucifer,” Alastor said softly. Lucifer looked over. Alastor’s contented smile was gone, a tense purse of lips in its place. Lucifer had always thought of Boudreaux as some larger-than-life character, but the man before him was just Alastor, looking worried and small.
“What?” he asked quickly. “What’s wrong?”
“Did you mean what you said earlier, when we were having sex? About being mine, about wanting to be with me, or was that just foreplay?”
Lucifer dropped the program and took Alastor’s hands.
“I meant every word. I know it’s probably hard to believe, because two days ago I was biting your head off, but that’s because,” his hands tensed around Alastor’s and he looked down in shame. “I was jealous of you. You’ve got a Ph.D, all the staff like you, Charlie adores you, you’re smart, and charming, and handsome, and I felt inadequate. I never really hated you.”
“Lucifer,” he said softly.
Lucifer looked up at him and smiled. “But it all worked out in the end, right?”
Alastor winced. “There’s something I need to tell you. If we intend to be in a relationship, then I have to clear the air.”
“You can tell me anything.”
“You say that now.”
“Come on, Alastor. What is it?”
“I broke your mug,” he said quickly.
Lucifer blinked. “My mug?”
“The one Charlie gave you for Father’s Day in 2016.”
“What?” He snapped, pulling his hands back. “Why would you do that?”
“It wasn’t on purpose,” he scoffed. “I was eating lunch in my office when I heard a voice calling for you inside your office.” He rolled his eyes. “I went next door to find you had left your door wide open and some student was standing in the middle of the room looking for you. I told them your office hours were posted on the wall beneath your name and sent them on their way.”
He frowned. “My knee buckled, and I didn’t have my cane, so I fell against the desk, knocking your mug and all its pens to the floor. The handle had come off along with a small chip on the lip. I took it home to repair it, but it was too obvious, so I scoured the internet for a replacement, only to find Charlie’s signature and the date on the bottom when I went to switch them out.”
“Seriously?” He asked flatly.
Alastor’s gaze snapped up to his. “It was holding your pens! How was I to know it was a precious trinket!”
“I wasn’t gonna stain it with my coffee.”
Alastor huffed. “So… Now you know.”
“Do you still have it?”
“I couldn’t throw it out,” he said with an eyeroll. “I thought perhaps I’d sneak it into your things when you retired.”
“You ass,” he laughed.
“So, is this a deal breaker?”
His heart ached. Sure, he was sad that the mug had been broken, but he was even sadder that Alastor thought an accident was enough to change Lucifer’s mind. “No, obviously.”
The tension left Alastor’s shoulders.
“I mean, I’m gonna want it back.”
“Of course, Darling.”
Warmth washed over him at the nickname. “And you can make it up to me by putting the matching one on your desk.”
Alastor’s mouth dropped open. Lucifer laughed. The silly white duck mug with its cute little protruding beak would look ridiculous and completely out of place in the carefully curated office of Mr. Serious Academia.
Alastor snapped his mouth shut and nodded once to Lucifer.
“If that’s what it takes to earn your forgiveness, then so be it.” His eyes took on a wicked gleam. “But people are going to notice. They are going to wonder why something so characteristic to Professor Morningstar is living in Dr. Boudreaux’s office.”
“Baby, I will call Sera right now, buck ass naked, and tell —”
Alastor’s receding blush came back full force. “No, no. No need for that.” He picked up the program and started fanning himself. “We can meet with her when we return.”
Lucifer climbed fully onto the bed to lay beside Alastor. “Charlie’s gonna flip.”
“Be sure to tell her she’ll get no leniency on grades.”
Lucifer snorted and pressed a kiss to Alastor’s smooth shoulder. “Yes, Dear.”
Lucifer’s life was going great.
His job was great. Last semester, he’d gotten to teach Creative Writing, Advanced Composition, and American Novel II: 1900 to the Present. The Spring Semester was looking even better. He’d scored Creative Writing II, getting to follow up with some of his budding little artists, Contemporary Trends in American Literature, which was one of his favorites to teach, and the Master’s Program Fiction Workshop! He’d also stepped in and taken over Topics in Prose from Professor Pentious, who’d had to take an emergency sabbatical. The course had already been developed centering around Dystopian and (Post)Apocalyptic Fiction, and it was going to be awesome.
His kid was great. Charlie had earned a 4.0 all three semesters so far, earning a spot on the Dean’s list and a merit scholarship. She also helped her roommate, now girlfriend, earn and apply enough scholarships to cover her schooling for the current year.
His love life was great. He and Alastor had disclosed their relationship to Sera, but they kept things strictly professional on campus. Lucifer spent several nights a week at Alastor’s place, grading papers while the other man did research, arguing about theory, or just cuddling together and listening to the podcasts Alastor liked. And while Alastor wasn’t frequently in the mood for sex, when he was, it was fantastic.
He was even writing again. After much cajoling, Alastor had finally convinced Lucifer to open his long-abandoned draft to try again. Alastor stood unwavering at Lucifer’s side as he stared at the years-unfinished page. His hand had rested firmly on Lucifer’s back as he’d haltingly typed the first word, the first sentence, the first paragraph of creative fiction in years. His 6th book had been released that spring, 8 years later than anticipated, and to medium success, but it was finally finished.
In short, Lucifer had everything he wanted and more than he needed.
That Christmas, his little family gathered at Alastor’s apartment for a feast of roast duck, crab meat dressing, collard greens, mashed potatoes (with a decadent gravy), and homemade rolls with Vaggi’s tres leches cake for dessert. Once they were stuffed, they retired to the living room for a brief, intimate gift exchange. Alastor gave the girls HCC hoodies and Lucifer gave them bookstore gift cards with more than enough funds to cover their texts. Charlie had knitted him and Alastor matching scarves and before Vaggi could apologize for not purchasing anything, Alastor thanked her for bringing the gift of dessert.
They all sat together visiting and sipping on mulled wine until late in the evening, when the girls finally called for a ride home. Both men walked them to the car, Alastor and Lucifer both receiving hugs from Charlie and a polite wave from Vaggi.
When Lucifer went to open Alastor’s front door for him, he met unexpected resistance.
He twisted the knob again, but it refused to turn.
“Al,” he called over his shoulder, “did you lock the door?”
“Oh, dear.” He patted his pants then stuck his hands into his coat pockets. “I seem to have left my apartment key inside.”
“You what?” Lucifer squawked. He spun back around and began frantically yanking at the doorknob.
“It’s such a shame you don’t have one of your own.”
“I wouldn’t have helped,” Lucifer shouted, still fruitlessly rattling the handle, “I would have left —”
Alastor dangled something silver in front of Lucifer’s face. He let go of the door to step back and look at it more clearly.
It was a key.
Alastor took his hand, turned it palm up, and set the key and the attached key chain in Lucifer’s hand.
He looked closely and saw the tag had his name on one side and on the other was Alastor’s apartment number. Lucifer slid the key into the lock — it was a perfect fit — and with an easy turn of his wrist, the door unlocked. He pushed it open. Alastor slipped inside and then turned and pulled Lucifer after him. Lucifer pulled the door shut and followed Alastor to the couch.
“Is this-does this mean…” Lucifer stuttered as he gripped the key tightly in his hand.
Alastor smiled and took Lucifer’s clenched fists in his hands.
“It means whatever you want it to mean, Darling. I’d love for you to move in with me, but if —”
“Yes,” Lucifer said before Alastor could start with his “buts.”
The other man laughed, rich and beautiful.
“I hate going back to my apartment without you. And I know you hate coming to my place, because of the stairs, and I don’t even care that my place has a guest room and yours doesn’t, because Charlie has a girlfriend now and they aren’t going to want to stay with us and —”
Cool thumbs brushed across his cheeks as lithe fingers cupped his face.
“Breathe, Starlight.”
Lucifer took a steadying breath.
“Yes, breathing,” he said between deep inhales and long exhales, “with you.” He leaned forward and up until his lips were just pressed against Alastor’s, “My Muse,” he whispered, sealing the endearment with a kiss.
“Lucifer,” Alastor chided, his cheeks gone rosy.
Alastor never failed to blush when Lucifer called him his muse, but there was nothing else for it. The man had brought color into Lucifer’s gray world, light into the dark corners of his mind, direction when he had been wandering aimlessly.
“Al,” he said, turning his head to catch Alastor’s hand and press a kiss into his palm. “Your hands are cold, which means your toes are probably cold too. Let’s get you into something cozy and warm you up.”
Alastor combed his hand through Lucifer’s hair, stopping midway to give it a gentle tug.
“Or,” he said, using Lucifer’s hair to tip his head back, then pressing his lips against Lucifer’s neck, “you could take me to bed and warm me up the fun way.”
“You don’t have to ask me twice, gorgeous, you know that.”
Alastor chuckled darkly and nipped at Lucifer’s skin.
“Are you walking, or am I hauling your ass to yo — our — bedroom?”
Lucifer felt Alastor’s surprised huff of breath against his clavicle.
“You intend to carry me over the threshold like some blushing bride?” He said playfully.
Lucifer removed Alastor’s hand from his hair and slapped the key down on the coffee table.
“Oh, now I definitely do,” he grumbled. He grabbed Alastor under the knees and behind his back. Knowing exactly what was coming, the taller man immediately wrapped his arms around Lucifer’s neck, just as Lucifer stood.
“You absolute brute,” Alastor cackled, kicking his slippered feet, which were still laughably close to the floor. “You are far too small to do this! It’s simply ridiculous every time!”
“Ridiculous, but effective,” he said as he made his way toward the bedroom. He paused in front of the closed door while Alastor leaned forward to open it. Once they were inside, Lucifer laid Alastor out on the bed. As soon as he hit the mattress, he stretched out and then relaxed against the comforter.
Lucifer watched as Alastor took off his glasses and set them on the bedside table. His eyes fluttered closed as he yawned, and when they opened again, Lucifer was still standing there, staring.
“What’s wrong, Darling?”
“Nothing,” he answered breathlessly as tears welled in his eyes. “Everything is perfect.” Alastor held out his hands and Lucifer took them. He let himself be pulled onto the bed and into Alastor’s embrace. “I’m so happy here, with you,” he chuckled and nuzzled. “If you keep this up, you’ll really be stuck with me.”
Lucifer watched as Alastor took Lucifer’s hand, his left hand, and brought it to his mouth. They locked eyes as Alastor pressed a kiss against Lucifer’s ring finger.
“Stuck isn’t the word I would use,” he said softly. Lucifer swallowed hard as Alastor brushed his thumb over the place where a simple golden band used to rest. “But semantics can wait for another day.” Alastor pulled at Lucifer until he was lying down beside him, arms wrapped around one another. “As I recall, you promised to warm me up. So get to work.”
“Gladly,” he answered.