Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Alastor was not, in any way shape or form, a fan of modernization.

He didn’t care to update his behaviours, housing preference, sartorial tastes, or technology.  The Sinner had a particular aversion to adopting new slang or modern parlance.

Usually.

However, Alastor found that perhaps a particularly crass saying of Angel Dust’s might be apropos given his current situation - “Fuck around and find out”.

Really though, could Alastor be blamed? 

He had only been trying to move things along at a far more expedient pace for the sake of his sanity.

You see, the situation between himself and the King of Hell had become an ever-evolving 'thing' behind the scenes, their blazing fights taking on a nuance that Alastor would have never anticipated the first time the petite angel had come through the door.  Yes, their interactions could still technically be construed as arguments (because they were), but they’d gone from petty dueling to something akin to verbal chess.  It was a challenge every time, testing Lucifer’s ancient wit against Alastor’s cutting intellect.  It seemed the King enjoyed having someone willing to spar and Alastor preened over the fact that he could go toe-to-toe with one of Heaven’s firstborn.

Alastor learned that if he avoided certain topics, he could keep their debates going (Lilith and the state of the man’s failed marriage were firmly off the table).  Prodding at the king’s sore spots was frustrating for both of them, as Lucifer would remove himself from the discussion and banish the stag from his presence until he got over whatever disappointment or hurt feelings he was experiencing.  Chasing Lucifer off had stopped feeling like ‘winning’ somewhere along the way.

Then one evening the two of them didn’t even keep up the pretense of bickering.

Without so much as a single snide word, Alastor had sat himself at the bar next to Lucifer late one night.  Husk had long since gone to bed and the Sinner’s senses had lit up when he sensed the radio down at the bar humming to life.  He’d let his shadows carry him down only to find his sparring partner drinking quietly to the dulcet sounds of Julie London’s melancholy warble.

It hadn’t felt like a moment for sharp words and, besides, the music was acceptable.

It was the first time the two of them shared a room with neither argument nor tense, watchful silence.  They simply…sat and drank and listened as Julie changed to Vera Lynn and eventually to Ella.  When the hour became too late and whatever insomnia had plagued the king saw fit to release him, the two nodded politely and parted ways.

It happened more often.  Lucifer would be unable to sleep and he would signal his desire for company by turning on the antique radio behind the bar.  Alastor would come to him and they would either sit in silence or else have idle conversations about nothing in particular.  One night they’d even compared stories from the Great War…Alastor in the trenches and Lucifer far, far below them.  These late nights were comfortable and, of course, the Radio Demon couldn’t deny the little thrill of Lucifer reaching out for him and no other.

He chose Alastor’s company.

Along with their insomniac rendezvous, he would catch the king watching him at odd hours of the day.  

If he walked through the lobby while Lucifer was perched on the couch with his sketchbook, he’d feel burning eyes tracking his path.  Sometimes at dinner when he could be coaxed down to the little family affairs, he’d become aware of the king studying his hands distractedly.  It was fascinating and quite new.

Oh, Alastor had been used to being obsessively observed, of course.  One didn’t maintain a friendship with Vox as long as he had without growing used to a certain amount of voyeuristic behaviour.  However…the Radio Demon couldn’t ever recall liking it before.

Lucifer Morningstar, King of Hell and Lord of the Underworld, couldn’t take his eyes off of him and he craved it.

Was this what normal folk felt when they experienced attraction?

This felt like the part when one party would ask their prospective beau if they fancied a courtship.  But who would that even be? 

Alastor had been certain it should be Lucifer since the devil was the one expressing his clear interest.  It seemed proper.  

Only…Lucifer seemed content to do absolutely nothing aside from maintain the status quo.

He still watched.

He still waited.

He still bickered and still summoned the Radio Demon in the dead of night.

And he did absolutely nothing aside from that.

Alastor, for his part, was content to let the man take his time if that was indeed what he was doing.  After all, it wasn’t in the Sinner’s nature to ask for anything he wasn’t sure to be given.  There was simply no way that he would be the one to make the first move when he was only half-assured of his welcome.  No, his pride simply wouldn’t stand for that.  If Lucifer wanted him, then the king would have to be the one to take the next step and then maybe Alastor would indulge him.

Yet, he didn’t.

Needless to say it frustrated the stag.  He knew he hadn’t read the situation wrong (while Alastor was guilty of the occasional lapse in judgement, he did not misread people).  Lucifer was interested in him and enjoyed his company beyond that of a mere friend.  One didn’t stare longingly at the hands of a ‘friend’ or gaze absently at the lines of their jaw.  However, the foolish little man simply refused to do a single thing about it.

So, you see that Alastor simply couldn’t be blamed for giving things a little ‘nudge’.

He started small - trifling things that could be easily dismissed if he were challenged.  Sometimes when they met for drinks, Alastor would engineer delicate brushes of fingers.  If his shadows reported Lucifer was strolling in the gardens, the Sinner would shed his coat and ensure that he was knelt in the herb garden just by the kitchen door when the king passed.  Why, he’d even allowed the king to win an argument!

Really, it really was absurd that the man hadn’t picked up on Alastor’s quite open hints before tonight.

Tonight, overwhelmed with frustration and eager to push the king to either declare his intent or move on from this childish infatuation, Alastor had showed up to the bar quite underdressed.  He’d abandoned his coat safely in his room, popped the top button of his shirt, and rolled his sleeves up to reveal the soft ombre of his forearms.  It was not the way any gentleman should dress in public, even for an audience of one.  However, needs must.

He’d practically purred when he appeared in his usual seat in a leisurely sprawl, one long unguligrade leg propped lazily over the opposite knee, and Lucifer’s pupils went tight in surprise.  Those yellow orbs locked on the veins of one exposed wrist like it was a fine delicacy and oh, wasn’t that lovely? Men, even those of the eldritch variety, were so very easy.

They’d tried to have their usual bit of conversation…their common tit-for-tat…but Lucifer’s mouth kept working like it was too dry.

Alastor had allowed his reticence for a time (it would be indecent and desperate to push the issue), but by the second hour he was no closer than he had been a week ago.

Then the stag had made the play which had landed him in his current predicament.

~*~

Lucifer was talking about something that would have been interesting if Alastor was paying attention.

Really, it was beginning to hurt Alastor’s pride that the king was refusing to acknowledge the situation they found themselves in.  Here they were, two men who spent most evenings together, and had come to enjoy one another’s company.  Alastor would accept no other man as anything close to equal and he had made that rather plain (at least in his own mind).  He had leaned forward to rest his chin in his hand, elbow resting on the bar, to expose the long line of his naked neck all the way down to the soft ruff of fur at his chest.  Was he truly so poor of a catch that the king was ignoring it all?

His ears airplaned out at the thought and immediately Lucifer’s attention snapped to them, his words dying in a dry throat.

Oh?

Normally, Alastor would have schooled himself back into his normal pleasant neutrality, but this time he didn’t bother.  

Instead, he hummed, “Is something interesting, sire?”

Lucifer shook his head like he was snapping out of a daze, “Ah…no.  I just…Are you feeling well tonight?”

Annoyed static screeched through the bar.

Was that all he could say?!

Alastor’s blood-bright crimson eyes narrowed sharply and he lifted his head from his hand, bringing his claws down rat-a-tat on the bar top, “Whyever do you ask?”

It was a trap that the king had best be wary of stepping in.

Lucifer bit his lower lip and raked black claws through his blonde hair, ruffling it, “I just…don’t think I’ve ever seen you this relaxed is all.”

At Alastor’s irritated, flat expression, he hastened to add, “It’s nice! I like it! I’m just wondering what the occasion is.”

Ah, an opening.

Sinuously, Alastor stood from his usual seat and slinked to the king’s side, resting a hip against the bar and placing himself within reach, “Perhaps I simply find myself relaxed in your presence now that you’ve seen fit to make yourself more palatable as a person.”

For a long moment, Lucifer simply stared before he barked out a laugh and awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, “Careful, Al, or you might give a guy the impression you like him.”

Alastor silently waited for the penny to drop.  He offered no rebuttal.

Those serpent’s eyes widened and Lucifer murmured a surprised, “...Oh.”

Indeed.

In an instant, the visage of the bumbling, anxious monarch unsure of his own welcome melted away and the faintest edge of a piranha grin split his porcelain features, “Oh, so that’s how it is, huh? Tell me, Alastor, this new look of yours tonight.  Calculated?”

Several pennies were dropping, it seemed.

Playing nonchalant, the stag eased back so his elbows were resting on the bar, “And if I choose to neither confirm nor deny?”

“Alastor,” Lucifer purred, leaning into him, drawing the ‘R’ of his name out on a purr, “Have you been trying to bait me?”

Alastor sniffed, not willing to admit it so plainly when the man still hadn’t made a move of his own.

A rolling chuckle resonant with velvet heat rumbled from Lucifer’s chest, sounding far deeper than it should, “Do you even know what you’ve been doing, hm? Or, better question…do you know what you’re getting yourself into right now?”

The stag refused to acknowledge the way his cheeks heated at the accusation.

“Clearly nothing interesting,” he said archly and made to push away from the bar, suddenly unsure of his gamble.

A hand far stronger than it had any right to be settled on his wrist, holding tight like a cuff just over where the pulse was beginning to flutter beneath too-thin skin, “Don’t be huffy.  I’m just trying to figure out where we are, here.  All the little touches, showing me that tail in the garden…did you actually know what you were doing?”

“If,” Alastor spat, “‘What I was doing’ was attempting to gauge your interest, then yes.”

Lucifer sighed fondly at him and reeled him close so he could feel the furnace-like heat rolling off of the fallen angel, “But…did you know you were seducing me?”

…Had he been?

Alastor found he wasn’t entirely sure if that had been the goal.  He didn’t generally think about sex as an act, merely a blip on someone else’s radar.  He did understand on some fundamental level that certain parts of him were attractive to others - that he was attractive to others.  He had very much been wanting to push Lucifer into advancing their little ‘thing’ into something resembling a relationship, but had he really considered the pot of sex at the end of this particular misbegotten rainbow?

As if sensing his confusion, the king stroked a hand over his hip and spoke more softly than before, “Y’know…I’d be honoured if you’d allow me to take this somewhere more comfortable.”

The careful selection of words made Alastor’s ears prick up.  His stomach tumbled over the idea that he was being invited somewhere to…to have sex, but the King of Hell being honoured to have him? Oh, that did quite lovely things for his ego.  Still, he refused to put himself through the throes of lust only to be cast aside in the morning.

Alastor reached down to pull the king’s hand off of him, “I am not a floozy, not even for kings.  When I go to bed with someone, it isn’t simply to become a notch on their bedpost.”

Not that he would know.  He’d never accepted an invitation before…

Lucifer’s eyes glowed like dancing candle flames in the dim bar, his face very briefly losing its impish quality as he smiled reassuringly, “Take it easy, Al.  This is me saying I’m up for courtship.  I’m not gonna one-and-done you.”

There it was.

Putting on a face of superior arrogance that had always served him well in the past, Alastor folded his arms over his chest and looked down his nose at Lucifer, “Well then! I suppose I’d like to see what the King of Hell has to offer, though I don’t promise to be impressed.”

When Lucifer laughed this time, it sounded somewhat less warm and merry than it had before, a note of dark promise caressing his chesty tenor, “Oh, Bambi.  You’ll be lucky to remember your name by the time we’re through.”

With that, Alastor felt the tingle of magic behind him two seconds before Lucifer was tipping him back through a hastily-created portal.

~*~

And thus Alastor found himself splayed out in the middle of the King of Hell’s insanely plush bed with the man’s tongue quite literally down his throat.  The appendage was long and sinuous, gleefully alternating between stroking the inside of his mouth and the soft tissue of his esophagus (Lucifer had been delighted to discover that Alastor did not, for whatever reason, possess a gag reflex and was abusing that knowledge thoroughly).  His hands, smooth as literal porcelain, cupped the stag’s cheeks to keep him right where he was.

Lucifer was laid out over Alastor, more heavy and hot than the Sinner would have thought given his slight frame.

It wasn’t as though Alastor would have thought to move away anyway, dizzy from lack of air and overwhelmed by being touched so intimately.  He tried to inhale through his nose, calling on his vocal training to continue breathing even while the king treated him to a kiss that would have scandalized even the French. His ears were pinned to his skull and he resisted his instinct to bite, knowing it would be unwelcome at the present moment.

Thumbs stroked the apples of his cheeks and Lucifer moved back, extricating his tongue with a parting lick to the Sinner’s soft palate, grinning down slyly, “Already panting from just a kiss, Al?”

His hands slipped down from Alastor’s cheeks, stroking a sensuous line down his throat to where his shirt just peeked open.  The devil toyed with the top button, popping it open teasingly before skating down to the next.  The slow reveal of his person cleared Alastor’s mind just enough to reach up and snatch at Lucifer’s hand, holding it still for a moment.

“Before you continue, a word of caution…” the Sinner began.

Lucifer shushed him and pressed another kiss on his mouth while popping open the next button, sliding his hand into the shirt to stroke the pelt he’d freed to the open air.  His hot palm slid over velvety fur and Alastor resisted the urge to jerk away when it discovered a certain humiliating something hiding beneath his natural coat.

The kiss broke and Lucifer pulled back in surprise, sweeping the shirt open to peer down at the small, delicate breasts barely peeking through the ruff of fur on Alastor’s chest.

“Oh.”

Alastor immediately felt defensive, bringing his hands up to press Lucifer away from him and close his shirt, “Apologies.”

He kept his voice clipped and his posture closed.  Why had he failed to recall this particular personal shortcoming when he agreed to go to bed with his new potential paramour? He simply…didn’t think about it all that often.  He was luckily small enough to avoid a brassiere and the layers of his suit kept him neatly concealed, so most of the time the state of his body just lived somewhere in the back of his mind.  More the fool him.

But then Lucifer was taking him by the wrists and pressing him back down to the bed with a purr, eyes half-lidded with undiminished interest, “Hold on there, Bambi.  You’re not going anywhere until I get to enjoy those, big boy.”

Lucifer wasn’t put off? 

“As a matter of fact,” the king went on, winking at the stag, “Let’s just make sure you don’t decide to run off on me, shall we? Your safe word is Red.”

Safe word?

Before Alastor had time to consider what was happening, soft scarlet rope slithered down from the posts of the bed.  As if with a will of their own, they snaked around the Sinner’s wrists and bound him neatly to the headboard, startling a grunt out of him.  Lucifer smirked down at him so big it showed off every single one of his sharp teeth.

“You say ‘Red’ and I’ll let you go, no questions asked.  Otherwise? You’re staying right here until I explore every inch of you and you’re bleating for me.”

“I do not bleat ,” the Radio Demon hissed to cover the shiver that ran down his spine.

“We’ll see,” Lucifer rumbled, deftly popping open the last of the buttons holding the stag’s shirt closed, flipping the tails to the side.

The fallen laid himself flat on Alastor’s front once more, hands stroking down the other man’s sides and ruffling the velvet-soft fur he found there.  His fingers traced the lines of brutal scars as if he were tracking constellations and it was more affectionate touch than the stag had ever endured.  It felt like every wayward caress only served to feed the static under his skin, building and building.

It was all a perfect distraction as Lucifer lowered his mouth to an exposed breast and took the satiny nipple between his lips with a leisurely suck.

The sudden wave of hot-wet-hot on Alastor’s yet-untouched breast had his back arching, fighting his bonds while a garbled whine of radio feedback filled the air.  He kicked out with his hooves, but Lucifer was immovable, nursing sweetly at his chest while hands smoothed up and down the beleaguered stag’s ribs.  It felt like each pull from that too-clever mouth tugged an invisible cord that led directly between Alastor’s legs.  The Sinner writhed.

Lucifer pulled back with a damp sound and whispered against a pebbled nipple, “Say your word if you don’t like it.”

Alastor bit his lip and his reward was a kiss between his breasts, “There you go, sweetness.  Good boy.  Just relax and I’ll make you feel good.”

How could Alastor relax when his skin was on fire?

The Devil nuzzled into his ruff before moving to his yet-unmolested breast, licking a hot stripe along the curve.  Alastor’s eyes fluttered closed and he swallowed hard when Lucifer slipped his tongue out to wrap around his petite tit.  He squeezed.

Alastor panted and the radio Lucifer kept in his room flipped to life, skipping schizophrenically through channels as fast as the Sinner’s racing thoughts.  The fallen chuckled against his flesh, sneaking a hand down to slowly undo the buck’s trousers.  Not giving his lover time to think between the dual assault, Lucifer dipped his hand into the taller man’s underwear, cupping what he found there.

Drawing his tongue back with a parting lick to Alastor’s nipple, Lucifer crooned, “What do we have here, hm?”

A wave of self-conscious reticence washed over the stag and he pushed at the king with his knee, trying to close his legs but unable to with the fallen angel firmly stationed between his thighs, “If you’re going to say something clever, save it.  I’ve heard it.”

Lucifer shushed him with a soft kiss to his neck, “Hey, hey…Listen to me.  Alastor.  I am literally from a time before gender.  Nothing about you is going to be ‘wrong’ to me.”

Feeling far more seen than he had anticipated tonight, Alastor frowned and looked away, “I am sure you were expecting something more masculine.”

The Devil reached up with one finger to nudge his face back over, forcing Alastor to meet his burning eyes, “I just expected you.  If this is you, then I’m happy.”

He leaned to gently kiss the Sinners’ cheek, “I’m grateful you’re in my bed.  I’m not exactly going to quibble over the details.  If you’re still willing to give yourself to me, then I gratefully accept.”

Once again he pulled back to look into Alastor’s eyes and the demon found himself unwillingly on a precipice.  Nothing was going as he had planned tonight.  He had only aimed to force Lucifer into admitting his affection for him and yet here they were only a scant hour later and the king had already touched more of him than almost anyone else.  This had all spiraled wildly out of Alastor’s control and the smart thing to do would be to use his word, withdraw, regroup, and have a much more formal discussion with the king later once his head was on straight.

But there was something about the way Lucifer was looking at him…something about the way his skin twitched and shivered under the devil’s capable hands and mouth.  Besides, if Alastor was going to lose his worthless virginity, then was there anyone more worthy than God’s favourite son? There was a heady power in that.

Ears flickering atop his head, Alastor tried to make himself relax, “I haven’t said my word.”

Lucifer smirked at him, confidence the likes of which the Sinner rarely saw colouring his expression, “Guess you haven’t.  Well then, let me show you how much I appreciate what I’m working with.”

He dropped a final kiss on the stag’s ruff before sliding down his body until he rested chest-down between his newly-minted lover's thighs.  As he descended, he graced every inch of skin he’d exposed with butterfly kisses and nips.  Alastor shivered as smooth lips pressed to the dip of his Adonis belt and slim fingers hooked the edge of his trousers, dragging them down.  Just like that, the stag’s cunt was bare to the world as his underwear quickly followed his trousers.  Instinctively, Alastor felt his tail curling up to tuck over his most private place.

Lucifer cooed and stroked the backs of his fingers over the tail, “Nervous, Bambi?”

“Don’t be absurd,” Alastor sneered, but didn’t relax the protective curl of his tail.

The king peered up at him, something keen in his eyes, “Hey, Al? Just to be clear…you have done this before, right?”

He sounded unsure now and that wouldn’t do.  If he knew that the Sinner had never been deflowered, would he end this? The man had been treated to the attentions of a skilled lover for thousands of years, so what would he want with a know-nothing? Or worse, would he look down on Alastor? Treat him like spun glass and not the powerful Overlord he truly was? Unacceptable.

So, Alastor utilized one of his greatest skills - manipulating the truth.

He scoffed, “This is hardly the first time I’ve shared a bed with a man.  It has simply been a few decades.”

Never mind that that particular rendezvous had been humiliating and ended with Alastor’s virginity intact.  

The king’s concerns seemed soothed, however, and his smile bloomed again across his moonflower-pale features, “Hey, can’t blame me for asking, sweetheart.  Not like I want to hurt you.  Well…not like that, anyway.  There’s sexy pain and then there’s…yeah.  Anyway, if it’s been a bit, I guess I’d better open you up good, hm?”

With that, Lucifer lowered his head until all Alastor could see was that radiant crown of golden hair.  Careful fingers pressed his tail down to the bed and, before the stag had time to question, a hot mouth sealed itself over his defenseless pussy.  A squeal of feedback filled the air and Alastor slammed his head into the pillow behind him, ears pressed flat to his skull.

It felt scandalous.  It felt like something dirty.  It felt like something Alastor should be using his word to stop and yet as the Devil sucked at the slit hidden between his legs he could think of nothing but letting him continue.  Lucifer’s tongue laved over his slick flesh like the world’s most sinful massage, every pass buoying his pleasure in a wave.  Helpless but to feel, Alastor’s fingers locked onto the ropes around his wrists, biting down on the whines and groans that wanted to spill from him.

His thighs trembled on either side of the king’s ears and strong hands cupped his buttocks to draw him closer to Lucifer’s mouth.  The thoughts turned to static between Alastor’s ears, the radio abruptly flicking over to what sounded like a pornographic radionovela to give voice to the cries he continued to stifle.

Lucifer chuckled against his cunt.

He pulled back only enough to blow teasingly on Alastor’s clit and purr, “Gonna make me work for that bleat, huh? Alright then…”

Then that long, dexterous tongue was breaching him, pressing into his virgin hole and stroking against the Sinner’s clenching insides.  Alastor let out a startled gasp and the radio ticked over violently to the lewd strains of some Lucille Bogan tune he couldn’t even begin to name.  It felt so big and this was only Lucifer’s tongue .  Tense as he adjusted to the sensation of being entered for the first time, Alastor felt conquered in a way he wasn’t sure how to handle.

The tongue inside him punched suddenly deeper and something…snapped.

Alastor yelped, hips curling away and back bowing as a sudden stab of there-and-gone pain lanced up between his legs.

Below, Lucifer had frozen still as a statue, eyes wide as saucers as he tilted his face up to look hard at the stag.  

Slowly, so slowly, he withdrew from the Sinner and Alastor spied a smear of blood on his tongue before it snaked back into his mouth - diluted by saliva, but there.  The king barely seemed to be breathing as he raised up to kneel between his lover’s legs, looking like a marbled god surveying a supplicant.  A droplet of rich blood stained the corner of his mouth and he wasn’t smiling anymore.  Alastor noted a fine tremble in his hands that hadn’t been there before.

When Lucifer spoke, his voice was eerily deep…deeper than Alastor had ever heard it, “...You lied.  You’re a virgin.”

Caught, Alastor lifted his chin with bravado he didn’t necessarily feel around the tiny echo of an ache in his pussy, “What of it?”

He was expecting an argument.

"...You're a virgin..." Lucifer repeated, his serpent’s pupils blowing wide as he flicked his tongue out to lap up the blood lingering on his lips.  An unnerving, polyphonic split echoed underneath that made the ridge of fur at the back of Alastor’s neck raise, “...and you offered yourself to me.”

Alastor swallowed thickly and watched as deep scarlet bled into the king’s normally golden eyes.

The air around them grew thick with crackling energy and Lucifer rumbled down at the bound Sinner beneath him, “Unspoiled…and mine.”

“Lucifer, what…” Alastor tried to protest.

“Be still,” Lucifer demanded, his voice split into three and echoing through the room like distant thunder.

Obeying some long-buried prey drive buried deep, deep down in his psyche, Alastor’s jaw clicked shut.  In that moment, he was no longer the Radio Demon.  He was no longer one of the most feared Overlords in the pentagram.  Lying there bound to the Devil’s bed, a thin trickle of blood staining the sheets between his thighs, Alastor was nothing more than a virgin sacrifice at the mercy of a creature so ancient that humanity had forgotten the true shape of him.

As if sensing his instinctive obedience, Lucifer let out a throaty purr that had never known a humanoid throat.  Mottled horns grew from his brow and his slender, barbed tail made itself known by tracing a lacy whorl in the air as it waved to and fro.  Even his form seemed bigger now and Alastor realized with a start that it was .  The Master of Demons crouching between his legs had in fact grown, taller and more broad than he ever cared to be in his daily life.  No longer an affable little circus clown, something in Alastor’s blood had given birth to a true monster…to the image Guillaume Geefs would have drawn inspiration from in dead centuries long past.

Alastor stared up at him with stricken crimson eyes, realizing how thoroughly the situation had slipped away from him.

Moving with the muscular grace of a viper, this Lucifer slinked up the length of his lover’s body and settled fully atop him, now large enough to blanket the Sinner.  He lowered his face to the crook of Alastor’s neck, scenting him like a beast.  Down below, the Sinner could feel the ironclad proof of the king’s heightened arousal, hot and hard, pressing up against his core.

Some distant, logical corner of Alastor’s mind recalled that he had a word that would end this.  What remained of his higher sense urged him to use it and remove himself from the greater predator he found himself pinned under.  As monstrous as the man had become, the stag still suspected that somewhere deep inside was the Lucifer who had charmed him…a Lucifer who would listen.

And yet…

There was an intoxication in the primal want he saw in the king’s face.  He had made this version of Lucifer with nothing more than a sip of his blood.  Was there any greater power he could possibly glean?

Surely his paltry virginity was a small price to pay.

Steeling himself, Alastor gripped hard into the ropes and hissed, “You started the job, Your Majesty.  Finish it.”

Lucifer snarled into the hollow of his throat and then there were no more words.

The king’s hips snapped forward, burying himself balls deep into the Sinner’s pussy with one brutal thrust.  Alastor let out a bleat at last and dug his claws into his ropes, gritting his teeth.

Full.

He was so full it burned.

The stag felt something slick dribble out of him around the stiff length of Lucifer’s cock and he could hardly tell if it was arousal or blood.  He didn’t care.  The pain made it sweeter despite the sting and the stretch.  His hips ached and Alastor straddled them wider, hooking his legs up around the Devil’s waist to alleviate the strain on his muscles.  Good.  Alastor would not be treated as a frail maiden in Lucifer’s bed.

Huffing like a rutting bull, the first fallen set up a merciless pace, planting his hands on either side of Alastor’s head to brace for the taking.  His claws ripped through the pillows and bestial grunts fell from his lips with every thrust.  Beneath him, Alastor’s body jerked as he was pumped into, viciously mated while he bared his teeth in the Devil’s face.

There was no holding back his noises anymore, not pinned open on Lucifer’s cock as he was, his tender insides plundered.

The room filled with a symphony of carnality.

Every time Lucifer pumped deep into the Sinner, his hips met the sparse curve of Alastor’s ass with a fleshy slap.  The wet sound of his prick plunging again, and again, and again into his lover’s pussy played counterpoint to Alastor’s gasps, bleats, and grunts of ardor.  Above him, Lucifer sang his tune, answering every gasp with a soothing croon, every bleat with a purr of delight.  Beneath them, the bed groaned and creaked, the headboard slamming violently against the wall in a way no one could mistake.

Alastor wasn’t sure how long such things were meant to last or even how long they had fucked like animals in the highest thread count sheets he’d ever felt in his life or afterlife.  All he was aware of was the heat in his core and the friction of the Devil’s cock inside of him.

He was surprised, then, when a new wave of pure sensation fell over him like a tsunami, racing through every nerve ending to leave him wrung out and battered on the shore.  He’d had orgasms in the past, few though they were, and they’d never felt anything like this.

Above him, Lucifer let out a low growl of approval and swiftly withdrew, much to Alastor’s confusion.

Collapsed and panting on the bed, he stared through slitted eyes as Lucifer positioned his still erect cock over the hollow planes of his heaving belly.  With one hand, the Devil reached down to grip his own cock, stroking as rapidly as he’d fucked the shuddering Sinner below him.  There wasn’t enough thought left in Alastor’s head to possibly wonder what he was up to or why.

The whole time, Lucifer never broke eye contact with Alastor, eyes burning hot as fresh coals as he added onanism to the long list of his sins.  It felt…worshipful.

Alastor tried to recoil in disgust when Lucifer finally came from his own touch, spurts of hot cum staining the fur of his belly.  Lucifer didn’t allow him to escape, shifting his other hand down to take the Sinner by the hip and hold him still while his potent seed seeped down to the skin.  Rumbling deep in his chest, the king reached down to his own spend and traced a long claw through it in complicated patterns.

The Sinner frowned, but there was little he could do, half wrung out from sex and bound to the bed.

Instead he just stared as Lucifer worked and rolled his eyes, trying to put the rattled pieces of himself back together, “Whenever you’re done amusing yourself…”

It sounded less arch than he intended, his voice gone hoarse.

Lucifer said nothing, focused on his task, eyes glowing and impressive form radiating an arcane aura that Alastor could taste on the back of his tongue.

After a time, Lucifer pulled back, cocking his golden head curiously as he studied what he had done.  A smug grin split his face and he leaned to kiss the place just above his own cum…before wrapping his clawed hands tight around his lover’s hips and turning him onto his hands and knees.

The stag hissed as he was made to move, propped up on his knees and held there like a bitch preparing to receive her stud in the Devil’s powerful grip.  Before he could offer a protest, Lucifer thrust into him once again, resuming his previous punishing pace.  Unbalanced now that his hands were crossed wrist over wrist, the ropes twisted, Alastor collapsed forward onto his chest, presenting for his lover.  A bleat was torn from his throat as his poor pussy was once again full of the Prince of Darkness, the blunt head of Lucifer’s prick butting in deep to the most intimate places of him.

Oversensitive from his first orgasm, Alastor could do nothing but lie there and take it.

Every thrust rubbed his breasts across the sheets, his nipples just as sensitive as the rest of him, and it dragged a sob out of the Sinner.  His tail lay flat over his spine, making way for the male that was currently mastering him.  

How was Lucifer still going ?

Fever overtook Alastor’s flesh, boiling his brains and stealing the breath from him until he was only capable of issuing forth weak “Ah, ah, ah” sounds in counterpoint to Lucifer’s hips.

Was sex always this overwhelming? Was sex with Lucifer always so overwhelming? Surely this couldn’t be what it was like for everyone or no one would ever get anything done.  Hell, with as much sex as Angel Dust had, the poor spider would need to be wheeled everywhere.  As it was, Alastor had only ever had sex once (twice? Did this still count as the first time?) in his life and he wasn’t sure how he was meant to walk out of this room with his head held high.  Sweat soaked his fur and his hips burned .

Alastor looked up weakly when he became aware of Lucifer sniffing at his neck, making soft chirping noises that were vaguely comforting.  His pace had slowed somewhat, but had gotten even deeper than before.  He licked at the column of his lover’s throat, nosing at the crook while Alastor’s head lolled on the pillows.

The king’s hips stuttered and Alastor groaned, the sound morphing into an eldritch shriek as sharp teeth locked into his shoulder.  Heat flooded his core as Lucifer held him utterly still to receive his seed, purring low with satisfaction.

Lucifer held Alastor tight to him throughout his orgasm, making sure he was entirely full before finally extricating his teeth.  He didn’t allow the stag’s hips to drop, holding him propped up while he groomed blood away from the deep wound on his shoulder with reassuring little chirps and croons.  It was soothing in its own strange way and Alastor was tired…so tired from the late hour, the blood loss, and the vigorous physical activity.  

So, held close and warm beneath the larger body of the king, Alastor drifted into a doze.

~*~

Three days.

For three days Lucifer had kept Alastor sequestered in his room.

He’d eventually untied the stag and spent at least an hour gently grooming where the rope had chafed his wrists.  However, Alastor was in no state to leave under his own power and Lucifer didn’t seem to be in a mood to let him go.  Not that the stag was in any rush to escape.  He wasn’t a captive .  He still had his word and Lucifer (feral as he was) was still very attentive to his every move.  He was sure if he wanted out, there would have been a way.

Alastor had done nothing in those three days but sleep, fuck, and bleed.  At some points, Lucifer had gotten creative and combined all three.

The Overlord woke this morning to the sound of pacing and he peeled open one bleary eye to see Lucifer, once again doll-like and small, manically treading the hardwood floor.  He was naked as a jaybird, thighs streaked with dried cum and rusty dried blood.  His hooves clicked as he paced back and forth, tail lashing around his hips and anxiety written all over his porcelain-smooth face.  There was a large bite-mark on his shoulder where he’d allowed Alastor to bite him on day two and bruises on his back where the Sinner had clung to him.

Not that Alastor was in any better shape.  He could feel where seed and his own slick had dried into unpleasant crusty patches on his fur.  There was a small waterfall of dried blood from his shoulder down to his chest and the tang of copper so near to his nose did nothing but remind him how hungry he was.

Clearing his sore throat, the stag pushed himself up from the ruined bed (they had broken the frame around dawn on day two) and propped up on an elbow, “While seeing you running about in a panic after going to bed with me is certainly painful for my ego, I suppose I should thank my lucky stars you at least haven’t disappeared.”

He sounded just as prickly as he felt.

Lucifer jumped and turned back to him, “Alastor, you’re awake.”

“Indeed.”

“Are…are you okay?” The king asked quietly and it was such a shift from his behaviour over the last three days that Alastor briefly experienced whiplash.

Trying to look more put-together than he felt, Alastor raised an eyebrow, “Before we go any further down that particular rabbit hole of self-loathing I feel you preparing to run for, I’m quite alright.  Furthermore, if you begin treating me like bone china now, I will be quite cross.”

“I...Alastor, have you seen the amount of blood that’s on the bed?” Lucifer protested and oh, this was going to become tiresome.

Alastor waved him away, “I’ve no need of your guilt or your apologies.  If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t have been and I shan’t have you robbing my agency from me just because you’d like some new material for self-flagellation.  I had my word the entire time.”

Lucifer blinked at him, his spiral stymied before it could even start.

“The only thing I would like from you is an explanation.  Where on earth did that come from?” The Overlord inquired, tugging a relatively undamaged sheet over to cover himself until he felt clean and presentable again, “You weren’t exactly verbal for the last three days.”

The Devil sighed and walked back over to the bed, sitting down on the edge of the mattress near Alastor, which was quite nice, “I uh…so, yeah.  The blood of a virgin is potent.  I know they joke about it on Earth, but you have no idea how powerful it actually is.  Especially…ah…virginal blood of an intimate nature.”

“Do you mean to tell me you were driven mad by breaking my hymen?” Alastor asked blandly.

“I mean, kind of? But also no.  It was a lot of things.”

“You said I offered myself to you.”

Lucifer nodded, “Yeah.  When you agreed to come to bed with me and stayed with me.  It’s…it’s a whole thing.  Humans get it wrong.  Virgin sacrifice is an extremely big deal.  Well, virginity is in a biblical sense…not in a practical sense since most people aren’t celestial beings susceptible to arcane shifts in reality…”

Alastor rolled his eyes, “Lucifer.  Focus.”

“Oh yeah.  Right.  Well, like I said, humans get it wrong.  Yeah, virgin sacrifices are extremely powerful, but when they’re forced it sort of dilutes it.  Throwing untouched girls into a volcano or whatever it is you people get up to up there? It’s like taking the finest cut of beef on the planet and turning it into a carnival hot dog.  I guess it’s still good if it’s what you’re into, but it’s a lesser version of what it could be.  Consent on the other hand? That is a formidable augmentation,” Lucifer explained.

“Do go on,” Alastor hummed, mainly because he needed the time to figure out whether his legs actually worked or not.

“Think about it, Al.  You can’t just force people to sell you their souls, can you? There’s power in choice.  They have to choose to do it and the ones who do it with a willing heart always have a stronger connection with you. Niffty for instance,” the Devil said, absent-mindedly reaching out to lay a proprietary hand on Alastor’s hip through the sheet, “So when you willingly gifted me your virginity it was like…bam…head rush.”

“You were quite unlike yourself,” the stag said, feeling satisfied when Lucifer touched him rather than fleeing the room in a panic, “It felt primal.”

Lucifer flushed bright gold and shot the Sinner a boyish, chagrined smile, “It was.  I uh…that hit of your blood? It was like a drug.  I was…I needed to be your ideal mate to make sure you wouldn’t leave and choose someone else.”

“And turning into an eldritch monster from beyond the dawn of human comprehension is how you do that?” 

The Devil shrugged, stroking a thumb over Alastor’s hip without really thinking about it, “You’re powerful.  You like it when I’m confident.  Consider it a fucked up form of primordial peacocking.”

Well, flattery would get the king everywhere.

Alastor smirked at the acknowledgment of his ability and stretched luxuriously under the sheets, watching as Lucifer’s pupils dilated at his display.  However, the man quickly got himself under control and cleared his throat behind one fist.

“Look, I want to apologize.  Your first time shouldn’t have been like that, instincts or -.”

“Tut!” Alastor cut him off, “Enough of that.  I wouldn’t have tolerated being treated like I was breakable, Lucifer.  I don’t regret losing what remained of my virtue to the true King of Hell.”

His eyes narrowed dangerously then, “Do you regret our time?”

Lucifer immediately lifted his hands and backpedaled like it was an Olympic sport, “What?! No! Alastor, that was… you are…it felt kind of amazing to cut loose like that.”

Feathers sufficiently unruffled, Alastor hummed, “You should do it more often, then.  I daresay Hell might respect a king of that caliber.”

“Yeah, well…” Lucifer puffed out a breath and ruffled his already rumpled golden hair with a hand, flopping onto the bed next to the Sinner, “So…it’s a little late to discuss this considering we just spent half a week destroying each other, but…are you really interested in, y’know, more of a relationship kind of thing?”

Alastor clucked his tongue and reached to smooth back the Devil’s aureate mane, “I had thought we established that in the bar.”

“Consent’s important, remember?” Lucifer huffed right back, “I guess I kind of want to hear you say it out loud since we jumped right to the sex.  So…so much sex.”

“Oh very well, if you must hear it, then yes I am still amenable to having a relationship with you.  I do insist on some stipulations, however,” Alastor said.

This time the king rolled his own eyes, “Wouldn’t be you if you didn’t.  Alright, fire away.”

“First, I would appreciate discretion.  I have no desire to dispel any rumors that I am suddenly incapable of defending myself and require the Devil as a patron.  I am self-made and will continue to be so.  Second -”

The sound of a knock at the door cut him off and his ears pricked up, alert, at the sound.

Lucifer’s eyes widened and he rolled to try and call out, but it was too late.  Considering they’d entered via portal, the door was locked…or it had been until a certain someone used their master key.  

Charlotte Morningstar’s golden head popped around the door…before she promptly let out a strangled sound and scrambled to cover her eyes, keys dropping to the ground with a heavy jingle, “Ohmygosh, dad! I’m sorry!”

She scuttled back out and slammed the door behind her, calling through the heavy wood, “I um…once you and Alastor are cleaned up can…can I talk to you?”

Looking bashful around a wince, Lucifer turned back to Alastor, “...So.  About that first stipulation…”

~*~

WEEK SEVEN

The weeks rolled by.

Being in a relationship with Lucifer was…interesting.

Alastor knelt in the little garden he lovingly tended just beside the back door from the hotel’s kitchen, critically eyeing a patch of what passed for rosemary in Hell.  He enjoyed these moments of solitude outside of the hustle and bustle of the hotel where he could woolgather without judgement.  Sure, he had to wear gloves to protect the plants from his withering touch, but he was accustomed to that at this point.

The first morning after he and Lucifer had more or less fallen into bed together had been torture.

Apparently, when you allowed yourself to be aggressively claimed for three days straight in a manner loud enough to be heard through several walls, people got ‘worried’.  It certainly didn’t help that sometime late into day one, Alastor might have blown every radio speaker in the building.  

Alastor tried very hard not to be embarrassed by the fact that the entire damned hotel had been privy to his deflowering (although he had to admit that Husk’s grudging concern for his honour had certainly never been on his infernal Bingo card).  The only thing that soothed his wounded ego was the fact that Charlie was certainly more humiliated than he was and she was not, in fact, overly inclined to discuss the change in her father’s relationship status.  Alastor certainly used her discomfort to weasel out of more than one interrogation about his ‘intentions’. 

Things more or less went back to normal (for the relative value of normal in Hell).

Lucifer, for his part, seemed rather serious about ‘courtship’ and the ravenous beast who had consumed the last of the Radio Demon’s virtue whole hadn’t seen fit to show itself again.  Instead, the fallen angel was content to let Alastor go about his days much the same as he had before.  Sometimes, though, they would have dinner privately in Lucifer’s rooms and on such occasions, Alastor was amused to realize that in the safety of his own space the king could actually be quite confident.  He could be playful and suave in his own obnoxious way and the Sinner no longer felt like he was handling fine china when they spoke.

Their little Insomnia Sessions no longer took place down at the bar, but rather in Lucifer or Alastor’s rooms.  It largely depended on whether the little monarch felt like summoning Alastor or going to him instead.  Summoning him seemed to be the more popular choice of late and Lucifer had exhibited an inclination towards having the Sinner in his quarters.  He’d even managed to sweet talk the stag into his bed again recently, though they’d done little more than sleep.  As a matter of fact, Lucifer seemed perfectly content not to do more than kiss and fondle while they felt their way through their new relationship - working backwards from absolutely filthy coitus to innocent touches beneath the covers.

The king, as it happened, was not unlike a particularly possessive octopus when he had Alastor in bed and more than once the Sinner had woken up to a pale face buried in his chest fluff.

Alastor tried very hard not to find that charming.

They’d even managed to have a few conversations of a more private nature that did not, in fact, end as arguments.

The only real hitch was that Alastor had felt generally unwell for the last week or so.

It seemed utterly random, his bouts of sickness, and the stag had no clue where it had come from.  Most of the day he would be perfectly fine and dandy, practically bright-eyed and bushy-tailed if he did say so himself! He’d have his usual breakfast of black coffee and bad news, begin his day with pep in his step…only to promptly find himself saddled with an intense urge to hug the nearest toilet for at least an hour.  About the time he would think to be concerned, it would clear up as if it had never been.  Sometimes it would strike first thing in the morning.  Sometimes it would wash over him as he prepared for bed.

It left him utterly baffled, though he’d kept it to himself for the time being.  Alastor wasn’t actively dying (again) and he had no particular taste for being mother-henned, so there was no need to get everyone up in arms, was there? Charlie could fret with the best of them, but her father? The man was a champion fusspot and no mistake.

Alastor hummed and left the morosemary alone, reaching for his garden clippers.  It wouldn’t hurt to harvest a few peppers for dinner tonight.

He hunched a little to reach the bush further back in the bed and, just like hitting a switch, his stomach immediately roiled.  Double and triple damn it all to Hell and back, not now .  Hissing, Alastor righted his position, sitting balanced on his hooves in a squat and frowning above his perpetual smile while he waited to see if this was going to be an ‘effluous’ kind of day or not.  Perhaps this was simply a bit of heat exhaustion.  After all, he had been out in the garden for some time…

The back door to the kitchen opened and Lucifer’s golden head appeared, a broad smile spreading across his face when he beheld his beau hard at work in the garden, “Oh! Al! There you are.”

“Indeed,” Alastor groused, cutting a glare in the other man’s general direction, “Here I am.”

The fallen angel paused and one of his dark brows slowly rose, “...Everything good? Frank didn’t piss you off again or anything, did he? ‘Cause no offense, but you look like you’ve been chewing lemons.”

Willing himself to put on his best unaffected affectation, Alastor slowly rose from his crouch and straightened his shirt primly, “Nothing amiss, no.  The little nuisance hasn’t seen fit to get under my feet in the last two hours.”

He swayed slightly as another roll of nausea cramped his stomach, but quickly righted himself.

Lucifer squinted and slowly his posture changed.  He leaned one shoulder against the doorframe and folded his arms over his chest, crossing his ankles.  It was the sort of posture he employed when he sensed (typically correctly) that Alastor was selling him a story and he wasn’t prepared to put up with it that day.  Lovely .  The man chose the most inconvenient times to recall that he was a king.

“Alastor,” he said, employing his lover’s full name rather than one of the more playful sobriquets the Sinner graciously allowed without bloodshed, “What’s going on?”

The Radio Demon held up one hand and gave it a jaunty, dismissive little ‘flip-flop’ motion, “Why nothing , Luci dear. Merely a touch of heat, I think.”

There, give him a mere kernel of truth and it would hopefully satisfy the man’s overprotective ways.

Lucifer’s mouth twisted in a moue of displeasure and he stepped out of the doorway, “Well, come in then.  No reason for you to overheat out here.”

Alastor rolled his eyes, but took the out, “You do recall I was perfectly fine for one-hundred and twenty-five years before I ever even met you, yes?”

The fallen angel snorted, “Alastor, you’re in Hell.”

“Where I do quite well for myself!” The Radio Demon quipped, trying to apply his usual swagger past the ebb and flow of nausea drowning his brain.

His lover actually chuckled this time, reassured by Alastor’s buoyant arrogance, as the Sinner swanned past him into the blessed cool of the climate-controlled kitchen, “You are patently ridiculous.”

“And yet, you’re the one who’s chosen to court me.  Who is more foolish, Your Majesty? The fool or the fool that follows him?”

“Got me there,” the pint-sized blonde smiled and watched as his Sinner went over to the sink to peel his gardening gloves off.

“I usually do,” Alastor said matter-of-factly and tried to hide the way he put his hands down heavily on the counter to steady himself.  

“Alright, Bambi, alright.  Look, why don’t you sit down for a minute and cool off? I can start the mis en place while you relax,” the fallen angel offered, shedding his coat and beginning to deftly cuff his sleeves.

Yes.

Yes, sitting down sounded marvelous.  Maybe if he sat down he’d feel less dizzy.  It wouldn’t even seem odd.  He’d slowly begun to allow Lucifer to cook with him in the evenings, so it was a perfectly acceptable favor to allow himself.

Alastor opened his mouth to respond and immediately regretted it as thick, foul saliva filled his mouth - the sort that usually gathered to herald the immediate evacuation of everything in his stomach.  His stomach gave a precipitous lurch and he realized he was about to lose the game.  If he rushed out now, it would only raise more questions.  He had no more time to think and bile was crowding up his throat, so he desperately reached out to turn on the sink.

Unable to fight his body any longer, Alastor vomited violently into the basin.

~*~

“Uh-huh.  Yeah, throwing up,” Lucifer said into his mobile phone, pacing the floor of his room while Alastor was stationed on the bed.

It was exactly the fuss Alastor had been trying to avoid, but he was too tired and nauseous to protest.

The Devil paused in front of a window, a hand propped on his hip, “No, no Bel, listen, he’s not a Hellborn.  I know it sounds like sinfluenza, but he’s a Sinner.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line and Alastor watched tiredly as Lucifer’s foot began to tap impatiently.

“Yes , Bel, I know Sinners don’t get sick.  That’s the whole reason I called you.”

Alastor sighed, “Lucifer, really, I’m already starting to feel better.  This is quite unnecessary.”

His lover held up a hand to silence him and oh, they would be having words about that later.  But the man was speaking again, “Look, I know it’s a big ask, but could you make a quick house call to Pride? I’ll open a portal for you.  Mm-hm.  Yes, I know.  Yes, I’ll make it up to you.  Okay.  Okay.  See you in a minute, Bel, thanks.”

Lucifer hung up the phone with one hand and absently waved a portal open with the other, the swirl of glittering red and gold opening up to a world Alastor had never seen before.  It revealed a sky of soft, soothing lavenders and pinks, rife with cotton candy clouds drifting idly by.  The Sinner realized he was being treated to an unobscured view of another ring…something no other mortal soul would have been permitted to see.

Before he could marvel at the concept, his partner was turning back to him with a sigh, rubbing at his temple, “Alright, Belphegor is on her way over from Sloth.  I swear, that woman’s forgotten more about healing than I ever learned, so you’ll be in good hands.”

“Luci dear, really ,” Alastor grumbled, pushing himself up to sitting in the bed.

“Ohhhhh no.  Nope.  You don’t get to wave this off.  Alastor, mortal souls consigned to Hell don’t get diseases.  It’s the way the system works. You can’t get anything that would cut your punishment short.  The fact that I just watched my lover throw up lunch is distressing to me,” the Devil said firmly, frowning sternly at the stag.

Alastor waved him off with one hand, “Heat exhaustion causes nausea on occasion.  I should know.  I did spend thirty-three years living through New Orleans summers, pet.”

“Sing a different tune, Bambi.  I have seen you involve yourself in a literal territory war with Heaven and you barely broke a sweat.  There’s no way I believe a little bit of rigorous gardening is enough to have you tossing your cookies,” the king said, walking over to the bed and sitting next to Alastor, “...And I think if you’re honest with me, you agree.  C’mon, sweetheart…I know this whole thing is new, but part of being a ‘thing’ is you have to be open with me.”

Damn the man.

Sighing hard through his nose, the Radio Demon let his eyes close and folded his hands in his lap, “I have, perhaps, been experiencing peculiar occasions of dizziness and nausea at random intervals for approximately a week.”

Lucifer looked disappointed, “Sweetheart…why didn’t you tell me?”

Alastor refused to open his eyes, “It didn’t seem worth the effort.  It comes and goes and I am always fine after.  I’ve endured worse.”

“Coming from a guy who legitimately hid a festering angelic wound from the entire hotel until it almost erased his soul? Not comforting,” his lover chided, reaching for one of his hands and giving it a squeeze, “It’s not hurting again, is it?”

“No.  Nary a twinge since you purged it,” the stag reassured his lover with a note of beleaguered exhaustion in his voice.

“Well, Belph’ll figure it out,” Lucifer said and then he turned his head as a towering caprine woman (or perhaps ovine?) dragged her feet through the portal that had been opened for her.

Her fur was a pale lavender not unlike the skies of her home ring, extremities slowly bleeding much darker and a column of watchful eyes flickering and blinking at her throat.  A guttering candle flickered from atop her head, framed by a curly cloud of hair so pale a pink it was very nearly cream.  Her expression was pleasant, but weighed down by a soporific drowsiness that Alastor strongly suspected was at the core of her very being.

Every step she took made it seem like each of her feet weighed a thousand pounds…like it was a struggle just to journey the handful of feet from the portal to the bed.  Her glowing white-and-pink eyes flicked too knowingly between Lucifer and Alastor…and where the king was holding a Sinner’s hand.

“Vomiting?” She asked abruptly.

Alastor blinked.

Lucifer looked at his partner, “This is Belphegor, Queen of Sloth.  She’s a little blunt, sorry.  She’s asking for your symptoms.”

“Ah,” the Radio Demon said and straightened a bit more in bed, refusing to be seen as anything less than put together even if his mouth still tasted of stomach acid, “Yes.  For about the last week I’ve been experiencing bouts of nausea, vomiting, and some mild dizziness.”

The Queen of Sloth tilted her head, peering at him, “Diet?”

“Balanced,” Alastor answered smoothly, “And relatively unchanged.  That is to say, nothing out of the ordinary.  Mostly carnivorous with no recent changes that would explain my upset stomach.”

She nodded sharply twice and squinted in a way that told Alastor she was seeing more than just their immediate reality, “Sexually active?”

An offended squeal of static rent the air and Belphegor, to her credit, didn’t so much as twitch.

Lucifer winced and looked chagrined at his partner, “Ah, Belph, that’s not really…”

The Deadly Sin’s brow quirked up a bare millimeter, but it was enough to convey her displeasure, “Sexually.  Active?”

‘Sorry’ the king mouthed at his Sinner and turned back to the Queen of Sloth, “Um.  Once.  About a month ago? Moth and a half?”

“I would hardly call that active,” Alastor sneered to cover his embarrassment. 

“Hmmmm.  Mm-hmm,” Belphegor said in a way that explained a grand total of exactly nothing.

She leaned in close to Alastor (close enough that it took a supreme act of discipline not to lean away from her) and the eyes lining the column of her throat flared to life.  The red stag barely suppressed a hiss as he experienced the sudden sensation of an intense pressure on his insides .  It was like his very soul itched.  It was as though the Queen before him was flaying open his skin, peeling him open and laying him bare like a withered bullfrog on an anatomy student’s tray.

Then, all at once it was over and the eyes closed once more as the Sin sagged down into herself, “I see.”

“...Care to share with the class, Belph?” Lucifer asked and even Alastor could tell that he was trying very hard to sound pleasant.

The towering Sin spread her hands and shrugged, “Congratulations.”

Impatient static rose around the Radio Demon, “Dare I ask for what?”

“The king’s seed has taken root.  You are expecting.  First trimester,” then she turned to Lucifer and promptly disregarded the Sinner, “I am pleased to see you've moved on.  I’ll have an assistant call tomorrow with prescriptions for prenatal supplements.  And a diet plan.  He’s too skinny.”

That seemed to be all the Sin had the capacity to deal with and she was turning back to the portal with the air of someone who was headed directly to bed.  Alastor sat still as a statue, stewing in the proverbial bucket of cold water she had just dumped over his head while Lucifer scrambled up to follow after her, more questions and protests rolling off of his tongue as he went.  Alastor let it fade to background static in his ears.

Pregnant.

His initial, primal response was revulsion.

Up until a month ago his body had been inviolable…a pristine island under a dominion of one and one only.  Every aspect of his physical life was carefully curated - no one touched him without his express permission and that was a courtesy granted to very few.  Only one other person in all of Hell - perhaps two - was aware of his…unique undercarriage and yet that hadn’t saved him.  All the concealment in the world and his disgusting body had still betrayed him after a single bout of indulgence.  Pregnant.

Almost against his will, one of his long-fingered hands stole up and over the flat plane of his belly where, apparently, the fruit of the Devil would ripen and grow.

“Alastor.”

The Radio Demon looked up when he realized he was being addressed and found that both the sins of Pride and Sloth were standing before the portal and regarding him with great solemnity.  It looked like Lucifer at least had been trying to get his attention for a few minutes.

“Hey, Al…” Lucifer said, sounding like he was addressing some fainting maiden, “Do you…listen.  Belph and I need to know if you…that is…do you want to hear the other options?”

Alastor’s ears shot up and he frowned, hand curling into a spider-like claw over his clothed stomach, “I beg your pardon?”

“It’s just…”

Alastor held a hand up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, nausea be damned, “The only options that need be discussed are whether or not you choose to be included in this process.”

Lucifer jerked like Alastor had slapped him, his golden eyes wide and confused.  He’d clearly lost the plot somewhere and thought his lover was performing wildly outside of the set script he’d already written for them in that cottony little head of his.  Too bad for him the Radio Demon was quite good at improv and he wrote his own dialogue.

“I didn’t stutter, Lucifer.”

Alastor was angry at himself for his own weakness and poor decision-making, but he had, indeed, made the decision to see his game through to the end and go to bed with the Devil.  He had done that.  No one had forced him, especially not the king.  He would accept no narrative of the kind.  That meant that whatever little spark had kindled inside of him was his responsibility…the result of the hand he had played.

The Sinner had grown up in a world of sharp contrast, not least of which had been his parents.  His father had never wanted him and punished him for existing…for the choices a fully grown man had made…until the boy finally grew old enough to kill him for the offense.  On the other hand, his mother had sheltered him and kept him despite the decisions she had made to bring him into the world.  Perhaps it had been a side-effect of religion and the times they had lived in, but she had graciously allowed Alastor life.

Of his parents, the Radio Demon knew which he wished to emulate and which he would gladly consign to the grave a third time if only the opportunity existed.

The child’s existence was his fault and Lucifer’s.  He would take on the responsibility for the heated nights and days that had sparked them alone if he had to.  He conveyed that determination quite clearly when he leveled no less than the King of Hell with a flat, challenging stare.

Lucifer swallowed thickly and turned his head to Belphegor, “...Hey Belph? I’ll talk to your assistant tomorrow.  Mind leaving me’n’ Al to discuss things?”

The spindly ovine woman merely gave them both another one of those unimpressed looks that Alastor was sure was coded directly into her DNA before vanishing into the portal and off to her own ring.  The king closed it behind her with a wave of his hand, barely a flick of fingers, his mind clearly elsewhere as he stared at the Sinner in his bed.

Almost as if he feared coming closer, Lucifer tucked his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels…forward and back, “...You really think I wouldn’t want to be part of this?”

“You did leap rather quickly to terminating them,” Alastor replied acidly, “Like a dirty secret to be erased.”

Lucifer looked alarmed and dared a step forward, “Al, no.  That’s not…look.  I offered that because I didn’t want you to feel…I dunno…trapped? I went way overboard on your first time and you ended up like this.  I guess…well, the first time I saw you naked, you were embarrassed of,” he removed a hand from his pocket to gesture vaguely at the other man, “So I figured being pregnant might freak you out.”

Alastor snorted openly at the fallen angel without a lick of fear or respect, “Lucifer, I do not need you to hand me an exit route.  I am perfectly capable of finding my own should I so choose.”

The blonde sighed and surrendered the distance, making his way back to the bed and sitting down on the edge, “...I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Men in positions of power rarely mean to take the reins from those with less,” his paramour said with brutal frankness, “You seem to forget, Luci dear, that I am not helpless.  I could have ended our encounter last month quite easily and I chose not to.  I won’t be made secondary.  I will not be made less than I am by the value of you erasing my autonomy.”

Lucifer rubbed the back of his neck and let out a deep breath, “I guess I’m just confused.  Al, I love you, but you’re a stubborn bastard and you hate taking responsibility when things blow up in your face.  You can be mad at me for saying it, but it’s true.  I just wasn’t really expecting you to be up for carrying a baby for nine months and then being a parent for another century or more.”

“My temper notwithstanding,” the buck sniffed, “Children are another matter.”

“How do you figure?” The king asked, stretching out on the bed alongside Alastor and propping his chin up on one hand.

Crimson eyes flicked away from him as if the next part were too exposing to bear, “...Because a child knows perfectly well when it isn’t wanted.  I am a monster, Lucifer, but there are some levels of barbarism to which even I refuse to stoop.”

Realization hit the king like a stone between the eyes and his expression softened, “...I’m on board, by the way.”

That blood-bright gaze drifted back to him and he shrugged with one shoulder, “You said I needed to decide if I wanted to be included.  I do.  I’m in.”

“So be it, then,” Alastor sighed and finally allowed himself to relax back into the pillows.

Immediately, a small golden head was tucked on his shoulder as Lucifer drew tight to his side, humming softly and trying to recover from the newness and shock of how quickly their worlds had been turned upside down, “I have been curious about one thing.”

“Mm?” Alastor half-asked, still tired from what he now understood to be morning sickness.

“Your body…it’s beautiful, by the way, but you were worried about me judging it, I guess? Have you always been like that?” 

Ah, this.

Alastor let his eyes close, a hand still hovering on his flat stomach, “No.  I’d hardly call my ‘softer nature’ new as I’ve lived with it for ninety-two years, but it’s certainly not my natural state.  Between my prey-beast conformation and my…well…rather more receptive genitalia, I can only assume it was a punishment meant to humble me.”

“Didn’t work,” Lucifer smirked into his shoulder.

“Indeed.  It’s never bothered me unduly in any case.  I’m not often stirred to passion and I hardly think about it.  My body is nothing more than a casing for my mind most days.  Unfortunately, that means on the occasion I’ve gone to bed with someone else, it fails to be something I even mention.”

Alastor sent a mechanical noise pinging through his aural aura, “Not even a blip on my radar.”

“Guessing someone didn’t like what they found, huh?” Lucifer said with a frown.

“...You could say that,” the stag tipped his head over to rest his cheek on the king’s hair, “It’s of no consequence to me, however.  A nothing experience with a nothing person many, many years ago.”

“Can I have another question?” The Devil asked hopefully.

“Go on, then.”

“With all that in mind, do we call you mother or father? With the baby, I mean.”

That was an interesting one.

Alastor made a tick-tock noise with his radio waves and then shrugged the shoulder his paramour wasn’t currently resting on, “You know? I’m not sure.  Shall we cross that bridge when we come to it?”

“Sounds good to me,” Lucifer allowed, “But uh…what do we tell Charlie?”

Chapter Text

WEEK NINE

In the end, they waited for two more weeks and a full doctor’s visit from one of Belphegor’s Baphomet demons before telling the princess.

In those two weeks, Alastor had purged more than he probably ever had in his mortal life on earth.  Unfortunately, finding the cause of his illness had done little to assuage his discomfort, and as a matter of fact in some cases it had made it worse.  Now that it was clear he was expecting, he’d been forbidden coffee and liquor…both the beginning and end of his days.  He had been relegated to ginger tea (which did help, but it was the principle of the damn thing) and water to ensure he didn’t end up dehydrated with all the vomiting he was doing.  Luckily, he’d been assured that this would pass.

Lucifer had also grown more wary of leaving him alone for long stretches of time.  If Alastor was out and about, the king would have an excuse to pass by at least three times in an hour.  Most nights were spent in the smaller man’s rooms where a daily pill case now sat next to the sink, full of vitamins and supplements Alastor couldn’t even begin to name.  He took them dutifully, though something about the set-up made him feel rather tamed in a way he didn’t like.  If the fallen angel was hovering this badly only a few months in, then the buck dreaded to think what it would be like once he started showing.

Showing…

Goodness, that was going to be a pickle, wasn’t it? On his slim frame it was certainly going to happen sooner rather than later.

What in Hell would he do when it was no longer possible to hide his condition? Alastor certainly wasn’t going to stop being active in the politics of the Pride Ring, no.  Perish the thought.  But the question became what there was to do about it.  If he swanned about heavy with child, he’d be painting a target on his back for any other lowlife Sinner who wanted to take a swing.  He supposed he could get ahead of the pack and publicize that it was Lucifer’s.  After all, garden variety Sinners tended to be schoolyard cowards who craved easy prey.  If they discovered an attempt on Alastor’s life would bring the wrath of the king down on them, they might second guess their own foolishness.

But, they weren’t a concern to Alastor either way.  

No, it was the older, more cunning predators he had to weigh with a great deal of care.  Would they see his connection to the king as an impediment? Or would they see it as a way to control the Devil himself? Threaten his partner and their fawn and force Lucifer Morningstar to bend the knee?

The very idea disgusted Alastor.  When their child had been made, he had seen the undiluted, unchained might of a fully recognized King of Hell.  That was the man the Radio Demon had submitted to and he would not see the sire of his child diminished.

So, perhaps that wasn’t the right play.

But these were also thoughts that could wait for another time considering there was an entirely different hurdle they needed to jump today.

Alastor and Lucifer were settled on a low couch in Charlie’s office, watching as the woman fussed around her desk.  It was nervous energy, Alastor knew…a little ritual to settle herself in her space and prepare herself for whatever it was her father and her hotelier had asked to speak with her about.  She’d been squirrely about their relationship at best - not rude, but distant.  It didn’t help that she’d found out in a rather salacious way, but there was something deeper keeping her from fully embracing the knowledge.

Alastor suspected her mother was a factor, but he also didn’t care overmuch about that.  Lucifer was an ancient being and the king.  He could make his own choices.

Charlie let out a big puff of breath before finally taking a seat across from them and pasting on a smile that looked a little too plastic at the edges, “So! Dad! Alastor! You wanted to talk to me about something?”

“Why yes, Charlie dear.  You see, things are going to be changing quite drastically around the hotel and your father and I thought it polite to inform you first,” Alastor led.

The princess’ charming little teddy-bear nose crinkled and she cocked her head like a curious bird, “Changing? Alastor, I don’t remember us discussing any operational changes.  Did…oh drat, did we? Hold on, let me check my desk -.”

“Char-char,” Lucifer stopped her before she could rise, “It’s not anything to do with the hotel itself - thanks for the stellar start by the way, Al - it’s ah…”

Lucifer mimicked his daughter’s puffing breath and toyed with his hat between his hands, “Alastor and I are having a baby.  Alastor specifically is doing the ‘having’ bit.  It’s about two months along and Belphegor’s confirmed it.”

It took a force of will not to guffaw out loud when Charlie’s eyes went wide as saucers and she muttered, “...Dad, what the fuck.”

Alastor smirked pretty as a picture as her startled gaze focused in on him, raking up and down his neatly dressed figure as if she could spy any tell-tale signs of either the pregnancy or his ability to have one.  When she didn’t find a single hint or clue, she turned back to her father and lifted her hands helplessly.  Put them back down.  She opened her mouth to speak.  She closed it again.  

Alastor waited.

“I…how?” She finally managed.

“Well you see, Charlie my dear, when a fallen angel loves a Sinner very much -.”

“ Thank you, Alastor,” Lucifer cut him off, groaning and rubbing at his sinuses, abandoning his hat on the couch, “that’s quite enough of that.”

“Sinners can’t get pregnant,” the princess protested.

“Apparently when they unwittingly forge a pact with an ancient being in the blood of a virgin, they can,” Lucifer grumbled and Charlie, bless her heart, looked more hopelessly lost than before.

Deciding to actually be helpful for once, Alastor leaned forward and said, “It would appear that your father and I accidentally performed some manner of fertility ritual in the bedroom at the beginning of our relationship and we are currently dealing with the consequences of our actions.  Your father thought it would be fitting to inform you as soon as we knew things were progressing in a healthy way.”

Figuring that part out had been difficult.

Sinners as a general rule were creatures built of corrupted soul-stuff and were never meant to sustain life.  They were dead, their metaphysical forms forged from rot and sin.  Under normal circumstances, nothing new could hope to grow in fallow ground.  Being as Alastor was quite a great deal more corrupt than most, there should have been absolutely no chance of falling pregnant even when the King of Hell was his bedmate.

Naturally, the accidental ‘virgin sacrifice’ had helped things along in the magic department, the intent and the blood echoing like a knell through the ether.  It had primed the environment, but that simply hadn’t been enough in Lucifer’s reckoning to prime Alastor’s body .  It just didn’t make sense to him…to either of them.

Lucifer was good, but not that good.

The answer had hit him like a bolt out of the blue when he’d been lounging in bed one morning in time for Alastor to come sauntering out of his shower naked as a jaybird.  It had been the first time Lucifer had seen him fully nude since their three-day sex marathon and his eyes had caught on something rather odd.  Sitting low on the Sinner’s pelvis just between the jut of his hips was a scrawling pattern in muted gold.  

He hadn’t recalled Alastor having any tattoos through the haze of primal lust most of his memories were wrapped in.

A casual inquiry revealed that he couldn’t recall Alastor having any tattoos because the stag didn’t have any.  His lover had been rather displeased when he revealed that it had been sitting there stamped into his fur and flesh since their first time together.  Alastor had tartly informed his partner that if he ever saw fit to play with his own spend again, he should be courteous enough to do it where the stag wouldn’t be trapped with the remainder.

Well.  That had explained it.  Blood of a virgin to set the stage, ‘birdspit’ and a fertility sigil to populate it, and absolutely crippling sex to bring down the house.

Charlie looked between them carefully, her confusion melting away to be replaced by concern (and perhaps a touch of hurt), “Oh.  Okay.  Welllll…I’m happy for you two?”

Alastor hummed, “Charlie dear, we’d appreciate it if you were honest. You and I are still going to be working with each other, so it pays to clear the air now.”

Lucifer tensed, but for the moment his partner ignored him.  He’d rather get all these uncomfortable feelings out of the way from the jump to avoid unpleasant run-ins down the road.  Pulling a bad tooth hurt, but it was better than letting infection spread.

The princess folded her arms over her chest and looked away, “...I mean, I don’t know if I like how fast this is happening.  You and dad started seeing each other and two months later you’re having a baby? Just…what would mom say, dad?”

And there was the first rotten tooth to pull.

The Radio Demon straightened up and lifted his chin, looking down his patrician nose at the dear girl, “Charlotte, Lilith has had nothing to say to you or to anyone else for over seven years.  Keeping your father frozen in amber just to ensure a woman who has not cared to be included in your lives won’t find one of her toys missing is inappropriate.”

“Alastor,” Lucifer warned.

But Alastor had never met a warning he wasn’t perfectly content to ignore, “Lucifer is a king.  The king.  When I found him he was little more than a wounded songbird keeping itself in a cage long after his owner abandoned him, hoping if he made himself small enough and meek enough she might return.  That is what she did to him and to you.  Her hypothetical ability to have an opinion on our lives is of no use to me nor should it be to either of you.”

A hand slid onto his thigh and squeezed, “Alastor, that’s enough.”

The stag fell silent then, but only because he could see Charlie actually thinking about his words even though she looked more than a little distressed.  The Radio Demon couldn’t say he felt particularly sorry.  He had only just coaxed Lucifer out of the shadows and he refused to see his baby relegated to them on Lilith’s behalf.

The silence stretched long between them before Charlie finally unfolded her arms and reached to pick at the upholstery of the chair she was seated on, “...I’m sorry.  That wasn’t fair of me.  It was rude to bring up mom in front of you, Al, when you’re…”

She couldn’t say it yet, but this was progress.

Lucifer sighed, “I’m not mad at you, Char-Char, and you’re allowed to miss your mom.  We both do...”

This was beginning to feel more like a private family chat and, despite his newfound status as ‘the other woman’, Alastor was not yet family (gravid womb or no).  Carefully extricating himself from Lucifer’s grip, the Sinner made to rise gracefully from the couch.  He’d told Charlie what he needed to and begun excising the wound…the rest was for the father and daughter to hash out.

“Al? Where are you going?” His lover asked.

Alastor flicked an ear and flashed him a wide, toothy grin, “Never fear, ti zanj, I’m simply going to catch up on my work for the day.  You and Charlie carry on.”

Lucifer was frowning, but he’d learn to trust Alastor’s judgement in time.

“Well…remember to take breaks and don’t leave the hotel, please.  I’ll see you later,” the king said and Alastor could have rolled his eyes if his poker face was any less trained.

Well, he hadn’t intended on going out, but now he’d simply have to remind his paramour that he didn't bow easily and capitulation needed to be earned.  He hid his plans behind an enigmatic smile and a jaunty little wave as he saw himself out of the discussion that clearly wasn’t meant for him.

~*~

Alastor strolled through the streets of Pride, deliberately flirting with the borders of Vee territory like a tightrope walker.

It was perhaps too far to push disobedience for the day, but being reminded he was secondary to Lilith was sticking in his craw like a fractured bone.  He didn’t necessarily blame Charlie for her reaction.  The girl had been pining for her mother’s affection for over half a decade if not longer…she and Lucifer both.  It was almost infuriating to watch them sometimes, the way they’d bloomed in her absence and the way they wilted right back into the shadows the minute she was mentioned.

It was as if they were, the both of them, harboring the desperate belief that if they only kept their little world just the way she’d left it, the errant queen might be enticed to return for her toys.

It was offensive.

Alastor would never bow to the king that Lilith had made and he certainly wouldn’t have let him between his legs.  No, the Radio Demon had given himself to a creature of true majesty…to a sly and playful monster who owned his power.  So the very idea that even memories of Lilith could shrink him once more into nothing more than a housepet somehow cheapened the decisions the Sinner had made and the place he now found himself in.

He obeyed his king.  He did not obey Lilith’s toy.

So he sauntered along on his merry way, humming a tune to himself while he did precisely as he pleased just to prove he could.  Pregnancy was not enough to tame him, nor was an association with Lucifer.  He was still the Radio Demon and he had never feared treading on boundaries before.  He wasn’t even headed out with a particular destination in mind, though he had entertained going to see Rosie just for the sake of it.

Of course, he had every idea that he was going to be found out sooner rather than later, and bringing a furious King of Hell to her door just seemed like bad manners.  He had no such concerns about luring an angry Lucifer to the Vee’s doorstep, however.

Alastor strolled up to a store window and leaned to examine the wares, making sure he was parked quite near to one of Vox’s little spy cameras just on the other side of the territorial boundary.  Oh, it wouldn’t pick him up clearly, but his trademark glitches would be telling enough for a particularly determined stalker.  Let Vox see him doing exactly the same thing he always did when he got a particular whim.  Let his enemies see him behaving in a manner precisely in-line with his nature.

Let them see that everything was normal.

All the world was a stage, after all.

His scarlet eyes idly scanned a collection of cheap nick-nacks he had no particular interest in, studying his reflection more than anything else.

He still looked like the old Radio Demon and he would do for a while yet.  His hair was still neatly coiffed despite vomiting up most of his breakfast this morning.  His eyes were still bright despite his difficulty sleeping.  His clothes still fit him perfectly despite the thoughtless, near-formless baby sleeping peacefully in his womb.  He still looked from eartip to hoof like the terror of the Pride Ring, just as he should.

His hidden tail flagged when a tall reflection appeared over his shoulder and a voice purred, “Well well! Who have we here? The Radio Demon out running errands?”

Pivoting neatly on one of his well-heeled shoes, Alastor looked up, up, up into the smug face of perhaps his least favourite Vee, “Ah, Valentino! So surprised to see you outside of the studio in the daylight hours!”

The overgrown moth’s face twitched (he’d always been absolutely dreadful at mastering himself), “What can I say? Business is slow when my star is wasting his time making macaroni art at your tacky little hotel.”

Alastor barked a mocking laugh, pressing a hand to his narrow chest, “Well! I would hardly call anything Angel Dust produces ‘art’.  I’m surprised though.  I wasn’t aware your little stable of trollops was so very weak that the removal of a single performer would leave you at loose ends.”

Val snarled and bowed up like he was preparing to offer whatever half-witted riposte was on the tip of his tongue…before he stopped.  The hateful bug blinked and then tilted his head at Alastor as if the Sinner had suddenly grown a second head and both of them were delivering a stunning rendition of Carmina Burana.  He inhaled deeply, antennae twitching, and Alastor stifled his urge to flinch away in disgust before, most horribly of all, Valentino grinned at him.

“My my…speaking of ‘loose ends’...” he crooned, his temper firmly under control once more, “How very interesting.”

Alastor raised a single eyebrow and didn’t speak, entertaining a new and unpleasant sinking feeling.

“You know, mami, I’ve always known you were different.  I mean, even if Voxxy hadn’t spilled your particular beans, I would have known.  You reek of bitch.  But this? Oh, Vox is going to love this,” Valentino teased.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean,” the stag said with forced levity, feeling the metaphorical ground beginning to shift under his feet.

Valentino lifted a long finger to tap up near his antennae, “Best scent receptors in Pride, mami.  If there’s a pheromone in the air, I can read it.  You, sweetness, smell like you had a bit of fun and it took .  I’m impressed.”

This had gone too far and it was time for a tactical retreat.

Letting out another grating laugh, Alastor folded his hands behind his back and turned away, putting firm punctuation on their little conversation, “Well! I see delusion still runs rampant amongst the residents of Vee Tower.  I fear it may be catching, so I’ll bid you adieu.”

There was no suppressing the shudder of oversensitized shock that ran through his limbs when firm hands seized his hips, stopping him in his tracks.  Valentino’s mouth appeared at his ear, brushing up against the fur as he murmured, “Who was it that got into the Radio Demon, hm? I want to know what name to give Vox so he can leave their head on that tacky little hotel’s doorstep…”

“Alastor.”

The voice that split the air then was a low tenor, incredibly familiar and full of a threat that was anything but.  It made the ridge of fur on the back of Alastor’s neck rise in alarm, his inner prey-beast reacting defensively to the clear predator in their midst.  The aura that filled the air was thick with arcane power (likely from a portal), but also a weight that Alastor recognized very clearly from nearly two months ago.  He didn’t dare turn his head, but the Overlord could just see Lucifer out of his periphery and it was…breathtaking.

The Beast of Eden had returned.

Lucifer stood tall and imposing only a few feet away from Alastor, barbed tail whipping at the pavement near his feet and six wings spread wide from his shoulders, blocking out Hell’s sun.  His eyes blazed ember-red and his face was set in a stark, disapproving scowl that had Alastor’s tail tucking tightly down.  His ears laid flat against his head as he felt the heat radiating off of the hellfire burning between his lover’s arching horns.  The Devil’s uncommonly broad shoulders were set like a man marching into war.

If there was a shit creek, Alastor strongly suspected that he was up it without a paddle.

“Alastor,” Lucifer repeated, his voice deep as the sea and branching, “Home.  Now.”

The part of the stag that still remembered he was the Radio Demon and not prey tried to bristle at the order, especially when given in front of a fellow Overlord.  He gritted his fangs so hard he could taste fetid blood in his mouth.  He could feel Valentino watching him from the safe distance the moth had retreated to and a bubble of panic popped on the surface of Alastor’s brain.  Valentino knew .  He knew, and now here was the Devil addressing Alastor by name and issuing him orders.

He had to fight back.

He had to throw Valentino off of the scent.

Forcing as much swagger into his voice as he could summon, the stag tilted his head mockingly at the king, “Why, Your Majesty! I didn’t realize Charlie would need me back so urgently.  I was just out on a little afternoon stroll…”

Lucifer looked nothing if not unamused and he clicked his fingers to summon a new portal, standing as still and terribly perfect as a marble saint, “Home.  We are going to speak.”

Alastor could feel Valentino’s eyes boring into the side of his head.  The man was practically trembling under the weight of the king’s monstrous aura, but there was no curbing a cur’s curiosity.  As craven and hateful as the moth was, he hadn’t gotten to Overlord status by luck and association alone.  He was dim as a guttering candle, but he was cataloguing the Radio Demon’s every twitch in this moment and making unwelcome (though correct) assumptions about why Lucifer would be the one to come fetch the wandering hotelier.

The stag couldn’t simply bend the knee here, no matter how those aforementioned knees quaked with the urge to do so.

Radio static rising around him, Alastor opened his mouth to counter his partner but apparently open disobedience had pushed the king past the point of calm.  The first fallen flared his wings out to their full, majestic span, towering over the Sinner, “If the next thing to come out of that smart mouth isn’t an apology, you’ll regret it.”

The king’s golden head turned to regard Valentino, “And I recommend you leave before I decide to question why you had your filthy hands on him .”

Ah, so it seemed like Lucifer was not in anything resembling a malleable mood.  Alastor’s ears folded back truculently as his partner effectively refused to engage or give him any room to spin his silver-tongued magic.  This was not the man he knew from their every day interactions, not the unsure but doting lover who followed in his wake.  This was the King of the Pit and he was not up for games.

Well, let it never be said that Alastor didn’t know when to make a tactical withdrawal so he could regroup.

Drawing himself up to his full height and shrugging nonchalantly, the Sinner made a dismissive noise through his nose and sauntered through the portal, “Very well, then! Have it your way, sire.”

He stepped through the shimmering ring of reality-bending magic that pinched two areas of the infernal landscape together to find his feet sinking down into one of the plush rugs that decorated Lucifer’s floor.  Oh dear.  Well, if this conversation was going to be in private, then Lucifer must have been truly furious.  Fine.  Alastor had expected this on some level, so best to brace his feet and prepare.

Alastor didn’t have much time, as the King of Hell was stalking through the portal almost immediately after him, closing the rest of the Pride Ring out with a snap.  His aura felt like a solid weight pressing up against Alastor, but the buck refused to acknowledge it, looking airily back at the father of his baby.  He was the Radio Demon Unbowed.

The king flapped his massive wings once, mantling the glorious plumage briefly as if it would inspire even a spark of submission in his partner, before tucking them up tight against his back.  It made his already impressive shoulders look all the more sturdy and Alastor couldn’t help but track the shift of muscles in his chest as his whole body adjusted to support all six of his wings.  He was magnificent like this, but he hadn’t earned the stag’s bowed head.  Not yet.

When Lucifer spoke, his voice was deceptively calm and it rolled like thunder through the space, “I,” he said, “am owed an explanation.”

Alastor turned and buffed his claws on his lapel, as unapologetic as a cat, “Are you?”

The fire between the king’s horns briefly flared before he took a deep breath to calm himself, “Alastor.  You are two months pregnant with our child.  I told you to stay at the hotel.”

“Did you? Or did Lilith’s husband tell me to stay at the hotel?” 

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed searchingly, but he didn’t move a single muscle besides, “Is this jealousy , Alastor?”

“Hardly!” The Overlord scoffed, turning sharply to fully face the currently-taller man, bridling at the accusation, “Who would be jealous of a man who runs back to his cage the moment his ex-wife’s name is mentioned? I simply don’t see the point in following his orders either.”

“You are acting like a child,” the Devil growled.

Alastor’s eyes narrowed, his superior façade fraying thread by thread with every word Lucifer spoke, “I am no child.  I am the Radio Demon and I will be respected.”

“You certainly aren’t acting like you deserve it! Alastor, I asked you to do one thing and you not only disobeyed me, but I walked up to find you cornered outside of safe territory.  What were you thinking ? What part of a display like that is something I should respect?” Lucifer spat back, gesturing wide with his arms, “Alastor, I am disappointed in you.”

“Don’t you dare treat me like I’m helpless!” Alastor snarled, the world shifting to frequency as his eyes tipped over into spinning radio dials at the dressing down.

“You’re pregnant!” Lucifer volleyed back.

Spitefully, Alastor held up a single thumb, holding it so only the area from the first knuckle to the tip was visible, “The child is no bigger than this! How dare you suggest that I have somehow lost the ability to defend myself as if something no bigger than a raspberry could cripple me.”

He went in for the kill, “Just because you are content to be weak and helpless instead of the proper king you should be does not mean I will join you in a cage.”

Lucifer looked at the stag with dark promise in his eyes, “If you wanted your king, Alastor, all you had to do was ask.”

Alastor’s ears perked up at the sudden shift in the argument, the dials in his eyes flickering out in surprise, “...I beg your pardon?”

“I gave you a clear request and you flouted me to go running off like a naughty little boy.  You put yourself in danger because you didn’t feel like I was worth listening to.  Clearly, I’ve failed to properly establish some very necessary boundaries with you,” the king said, his entire demeanor turning on a dime.

Before the stag had time to properly react, the Devil was on him, striding quickly across the room and taking him by the bicep, hand like an iron band.  Alastor was one of the strongest Sinners in Hell, but he was no match for a determined Lucifer.  Baffled and outclassed, he found himself marched over to the literal corner of the room and his soul fully rebelled when he realized what his lover intended.

“Absolutely not, Lucifer!” He hissed, no longer in charge of the altercation and not liking it one bit.

“Oh, I think so,” Lucifer said, his grip unwavering as he moved to take both of Alastor’s wrists, firmly placing his hands on either wall, “Here’s what’s going to happen you little smart-ass.  Before I realized you’d left, I looked for you for twenty minutes.  You are going to pay for every. single. one.  Twenty with my hand and you’re going to be good and keep your hands on that wall or I’ll keep adding until you get the message.”

Alastor felt his heartbeat pick up, his palms going clammy where they were pressed to the wall.  Ice trickled down the back of his neck as one of Lucifer’s big hands pressed between his shoulder blades to make him bend.  It felt a little harder to breathe suddenly as he found himself folding into a position that was familiar for all the wrong reasons.  Static floated around him like a miasma and his tail flagged up, flashing the white of danger to an audience of no one.

Lips brushed his ear, “If you’re tough enough to go walking through literal warzones, then you’re tough enough for twenty.  We’ll talk once I’ve worked some of the mean out of you.”

Then Lucifer kissed his alert ear and pulled away, leaving Alastor adrift.

“...But if it is too much, you still have your word.”

Alastor barely heard him over the phantom sounds of a belt sliding through loops echoing back to him from over a century ago.  He strained to hear it again and it distracted him enough that he wasn’t ready for the first blow at all.  Lucifer had wrapped one hand around his hip to hold him still, bringing the flat of the other down across the seat of his pants in a ringing slap.  The stag gasped and felt his ears pin down flat.

It was ridiculous.

This didn’t even properly hurt .  Oh, it stung, but compared to the violence Alastor had suffered since he’d died it was barely even worthy of his notice.  It didn’t even properly compare to what his father had been capable of.  It was just…the shock of it…the memory of it and the knowledge of how much worse it could and would get was leaving the stag rattled.  Alastor smelled booze on the air, cheap rye that he knew neither he nor Lucifer had consumed.  He could hear the creak of bayou shack floorboards that likely didn’t even exist anymore.

The second blow fell and it wasn’t Lucifer coaching him through it anymore.

His father’s gruff slur growled up at him from the bottom of the well of time as the third and fourth spanks cracked across his clothed ass.  For the first time in their relationship Alastor actually felt the panicked urge to use his word.  It was there, dancing on the tip of his tongue and almost shaken loose by the fifth strike.  One syllable would end all of this and he could banish the ghosts of Louisiana back to the sepulchers he’d built for them.

But he couldn’t, not over this .  If the mighty Radio Demon called a halt over something so paltry as a spanking, Lucifer would never regard him as an equal again.  He would become a delicate, spun-glass creature in his king’s regard - something to be kept on the shelf behind the curio doors.  If Alastor’s only options were to endure this or become a kept creature, then endure it he would.

So Alastor gritted his teeth and braced his feet, tried to keep himself in the here and now where not even his father’s soul existed.  He tried to keep track of how much was left in his punishment, but it seemed that when he had been lost in his own memory, he’d lost count.  Suddenly, the small number of ‘twenty’ became interminable with no concept of where it began or ended.  

The sound of Alastor’s father’s voice became louder, the words distinct.

He was unaware that he was trembling.

But then there were firm hands on his biceps, guiding him up and turning him so he was staring directly into his lover’s concerned golden eyes (not red anymore, gold…).  He was talking, but the words weren’t registering.  His father was too loud in his ears…so loud.  Too loud to be a memory.  Alastor realized with a jolt that it wasn’t a memory.  He was putting his memories of his father’s drunken abuses through his audio aura for Lucifer to hear plainly.

No, unacceptable.

He had to recover this situation.

“...I didn’t use my word,” Alastor rasped and hated how uncultured his voice sounded.

Lucifer looked at him like he’d lost his mind, “Alastor, you’re shaking like a leaf and you started broadcasting.  What happened?”

“I am fine ,” the stag insisted.

“Bullshit, sweetheart,” the king said and gathered him in close, holding him tight as if that alone could stop his shaking, “I hurt you.  And you let me do it…”

“Nonsense.  I am entirely unharmed,” the stag said, though he made no move to pull from Lucifer’s grip.

The blonde pulled back only enough to tap the space between Alastor’s eyes with a claw, “Not physical hurt.  Damnit, Al, you should have used your safeword.”

Alastor mustered up enough energy to sneer, “If I had, would you have ever let me out of your sight again? I had to prove to you that I do not require your coddling or your protection.  I am still an Overlord.”

“Father damnit, you impossible man.  I don’t think you’re weak .  I want to protect you because I care about you, not because I think you’re suddenly incapable,” Lucifer sighed into his hair, tucking him close again as the last of the hateful voice fizzled and popped out of Alastor’s static.

“And striking someone is how you demonstrate your care?”

Lucifer held him tighter, “It’s…sometimes things like spanking are a good way to let off steam without anyone getting hurt.  It’s, y’know…it’s supposed to be sexy.  I didn’t realize you wouldn’t understand.  Don’t get me wrong, you were being a brat, but I didn’t mean to actually upset you.”

“In my experience…” Alastor broached, “Beatings amongst loved ones are rarely an expression of that kind of passion.”

The king pulled back from him to look down into his face with a frown, “...Who was the voice?”

“My father, and you needn’t concern yourself with him.  I put him down long ago.”

Alastor blinked when he felt smooth lips press against his own, soft as a butterfly’s dreams and tender as a sigh.  Lucifer slipped a hand up to cup his cheek, stroking the skin there gently as he refused to let him go.  It felt…it felt rather nice.  The Overlord allowed the kiss that was little more than a caress, feeling his shoulders unknot from their defensive position.

The Devil broke it gently after a moment, pressing their foreheads together and murmuring, “Okay.  Okay.  We can be done with this.  A request, though.  Please don’t just disappear like that again, habibi.  I don’t like when I can’t find you.”

“Sometimes I do not wish to be found,” Alastor said tersely, but stayed right where he was.  His ears flickered at the name he didn’t recognize.

Lucifer’s hands tightened on him, claws pricking but not breaking skin, “...At least compromise with me.  If you need to not be found for a little while…within reason…tell me.  I won’t seek you out, but I need to at least know.  And if I ask you not to, then you have to give me a good reason.”

Alastor considered that in silence for a moment while his heart continued to calm.

It was a surprisingly reasonable compromise, he supposed.  Lucifer could have just as easily refused him and continued on their disagreement, but instead he was offering the Overlord this.  Freedom to come and go so long as he provided something by way of a ‘heads-up’.  It still felt a bit like having a minder, but perhaps this is simply what one conceded to when one was in a relationship?

Before answering, the Sinner asked, “Why were you even so desperate to find me to begin with? You know I’m prone to vanishing throughout the day when it suits my whims.  It’s never bothered you unduly before.”

“You left during our talk with Charlie and it didn’t go well.  I was worried it upset you.”

“I left during the talk because it became rather apparent it was a family matter.  I wanted to give you and dear Charlie room to discuss her new sibling without the other woman in the room, so to speak.”

Lucifer’s frown deepened, “Habibi…you are carrying our baby.  When, in your estimation, do you become a part of the family if not now?”

Almost mockingly, Alastor raised a hand to brush claws through his lover’s golden hair and was pleased to see that his shakes had mostly gone, “...When the two of you stop holding the empty seat at your table for Lilith and make room for someone else to sit.”

“Oh, Alastor…” the Devil said and then suddenly strong arms were locking under the stag’s thighs, pulling him up so he rested against Lucifer’s chest.

Alastor yelped in shock and locked his ankles around the fallen angel’s waist, gripping his shoulders to avoid falling to the ground like a fool.  He needn’t have worried, really, as Lucifer’s arms were strong on his body, holding him close and protected in ways that he didn’t have the capacity to acknowledge.  He’d been beaten many times over his life, but no one save his mother had ever held him after…

Seeking to banish the perilous thoughts before they could even take hold, the Radio Demon asked, “What are you up to, you foolish man?”

Lucifer walked them across the room towards the bed and sat them on the edge, turning so Alastor was seated straddling his lap, “I think…if you’ll have me, that is…I’d very much like to make love to you.”

Alastor’s ears flipped back.  Would this man ever cease to confuse him?

“Lucifer, today alone we have had a frankly uncomfortable conversation with Charlie, a very public disagreement, a contentious private argument, and then you hit me.  How on earth are you feeling in any way amorous?” Alastor asked, though he made no move to leave his comfortable place on the king’s lap.

“Maybe it’s because we had a hard day?” Lucifer hummed, stroking strong hands down the lean planes of Alastor’s sides over the top of his coat, “And because I don’t like you doubting your place in my existence.”

Alastor said nothing at first from his lofty place astride his lover’s thighs so the king smiled indulgently and squeezed his hips far more gently than before, “Please.  Let me be close to you.”

The stag took a long moment to think seriously about the new precipice Lucifer was leading him towards with sugar cubes rather than blood this time…sweet and ephemeral and all the more dangerous for it.  Gentleness like this was new territory for them.  The first time they’d fallen into bed together was primal and possessive with no words spoken once they had gotten into the ‘meat’ of it.  If Lucifer wasn’t inside Alastor, he was wound around him purring and growling softly in the small hours of the night.  The Radio Demon had given nothing of himself but his virginity, his blood, and his body.

What Lucifer was proposing now seemed more exposing altogether…something that Alastor wouldn’t be able to hold himself wholly separate from.

It shouldn’t have bothered him, right? He had consented to be courted by the Devil (and oh, wouldn’t his maman have things to say about that?) and they were far more courteous to each other than they had been.  He even enjoyed the man’s company and found him rather quick-witted when the fallen was in the mood for a game.  But those moments when they danced or chatted had never intersected with their carnal life in any way.  Alastor was free to shield either his body or his heart in every interaction.

Lucifer wanted to lay him bare utterly today.

To…what? Reassure him that he was not a convenient womb and a placeholder for an abdicated queen? A lovely sentiment, but giving into it would only hurt in the long run, would it not?

And yet the Devil looked so very alluring when he allowed himself to take up space…to shed the mockery of a human face he wore like a mask in honour of a people and a paradise that no longer existed.  Eden was surely a parking lot and the first humans who had peopled it were barely memories.

Humming, Alastor relaxed his grip and draped his arms over Lucifer’s shoulders, toying with the blonde hair at his nape slyly to mask his own inner conflict, “...Well…I suppose you are rather fetching like this…”

Lucifer’s eyes went half-lidded, sparkling with heat, and he teased, “What, don't like me fun-sized?”

“I gave my virginity to the King of Hell. I like being reminded that he's in there somewhere,” the Radio Demon said, tugging at the hair in his fingers to make his point.

He supposed so long as he guarded himself, he could accept a touch of tenderness.  But not too much.

At the little twinge of almost-pain, the king bared his teeth at the Sinner and twisted to lower him carefully to the bed, “I’ll remind you whenever you want, Habibi.”

Alastor let himself be guided down to the overstuffed, cozy mattress he spent more nights on than not these days, his head nestling down into his special pillow with the silk case.  He looked up into the glowing eyes of his king, finding pure, soul-scouring warmth written large there.  If Alastor didn’t know better, he’d mistake that expression for something far too close to real love.  Of course Lucifer had said he loved him, but words were easy.  Cheap.

That look, though…

Alastor breathed out and let himself relax into the bed, ears flickering with interest as Lucifer settled between his legs.  The king’s overwhelming presence licked at him like a tide at the full moon.  What was it about this version of Lucifer that made him lose his head? Was this the natural reaction of a Sinner laid out beneath their master like a feast? Or was this something unique to them?

Lucifer smiled down at him and held one hand up, preparing to click, “Hopefully you’ll forgive me if I’m a little impatient.”

Then he snapped his fingers and in an instant Alastor felt the warm air of the hellish bedroom ruffling through his exposed fur.  He carefully didn’t react aside from tucking his tail into a more comfortable position against the mattress, “Is his majesty hungry?”

A porcelain smooth hand snuck up to very gently cup one of his teacup-tiny breasts, kneading it in soft pulses, “Ravenous.”

“Then eat of my flesh and abide in me,” Alastor smirked.

His biblical gambit played off and the king snorted at him, leaning down to kiss at the hinge of his jaw, “The book of John? Really?”

“I’m an old-fashioned man,” Alastor crooned and slid one hand down to his pregnant belly, petting the flat plane of it, “Although, I think you might have me beat in that regard, else we wouldn’t be in our current predicament.”

It was a manipulation, though one obvious enough it couldn’t be mistaken for ill-intent.  Lucifer loved to be reminded of the life he’d seeded in Alastor’s belly - the newest heir to his bloodline.

Lucifer’s smile went lopsided with fondness.

Not relinquishing his gentle hold on Alastor’s petite breast, he leaned down to kiss an adoring path to the place where his fertility mark was emblazoned in aureate gold against Alastor’s tummy.  He nuzzled the tattoo that wasn’t and the act was so achingly forbearing that the Overlord almost couldn’t abide it. There was no escape from this dangerous consideration…from this singular worship.

Against his velvet-furred flesh, the Devil whispered, “Hello, thamiyn.  Sleep well.  We’ll see you soon.”

Alastor tried to ignore how his breathing picked up at that.

Clearly, he didn’t do a good job of hiding it, as Lucifer shot him a look full of ferocious adoration, moving back up to kiss him.  Unlike the first time, it wasn’t a plunging, claiming thing.  It was slow and soft, demanding nothing from Alastor but present all the same.  Making a soft sound in the back of his throat, Alastor accepted the kiss and slipped his mouth open just enough for Lucifer to slide inside.  The king didn’t plunder him as he had done the first time when their sex was as much a competition as an expression of true pleasure.  It was long and slow and absolutely drenched in affection.

After an indulgent moment, Alastor pulled back and smoothed his hands down the clothed planes of the king’s muscular chest, “Something about our current situation seems somewhat uneven.”

He plucked at a lapel.

Lucifer smirked and leaned up to nip at the edge of Alastor’s ear, “Are you saying you want to see me?”

His lover scoffed, “I’m saying that I feel a bit like a cheap lady of the evening at present.”

“Stubborn,” the Devil sighed but the Sinner noted he was quick to click away his own clothes at even the suggestion Alastor might not be feeling entirely comfortable.

He was beautiful like this, the Radio Demon could admit in the privacy of his own head as he gazed up at the ivory god of darkness above him.  The overhead light sparked off of his blonde hair and for just a moment Alastor could imagine a halo ringing that proud head.  Just for a moment.  The Sinner far preferred the mottled, arching horns and flickering hellfire to any suggestion of lingering divinity.

As if to preen for his mate, Lucifer gave his six mighty wings a little flex, spreading them wide across the bed like a sanguine canopy.

Red eyes falling half-lidded in approval, Alastor reached up to sift his claws through the feathers on display, “Ah…there’s my king.”

A shudder racked Lucifer’s body and an avian chirp escaped his throat when Alastor touched his wings, the feathers fluffing.  He groaned, “I wouldn’t play with fire if I were you, habibi.  I want to be gentle with you today.”

Oh, he liked that did he?

Still…Alastor shifted his hands away from the powerful wings and up to cup the king’s face, speaking as casually as he could manage, “Hmmm, I’ll allow it, I suppose.”

Lucifer turned his head to press a close-lipped kiss to the Sinner’s left palm, “How gracious.”

The king lowered himself fully to rest on top of Alastor, draping himself over his partner and stroking the stark lines of the Overlord’s prominent ribs.  He nuzzled into the lean curve of his lover’s throat, peppering it with kisses and nips.  Lucifer took care with his teeth this time, content with tiny scrapes that were mostly muted by Alastor’s thin pelt.  His hand never left its comfortable spot on his lover’s chest, kneading the soft flesh and worrying at the nipple with the pad of his thumb.

Once again Alastor felt that traitorous heat building under his skin and he let out a shuddering breath, fighting for composure.  He wouldn’t fall apart that easily under the king’s talented touch or the man would be smug for at least a week.  

It was strange this time, though.

The last time they’d fallen into bed together, Alastor’s hands had been bound so he hadn’t needed to worry what to do with the damn things while his partner was picking him apart from sinew to marrow.  But now his hands were free and he wasn’t sure whether to grip the bedding like a nervous maiden, claw at his own hair, grab a pillow…nothing seemed quite right.  His body seemed to decide that resting them stiffly at his side was the way to go.  It was just so…odd.  In matters of carnal interest, Lucifer was a creature of assured grace.

He knew precisely where every last finger should go at any given time without question.  The king was confident and controlled, playing the Radio Demon like a fine instrument.

At the hollow of his throat, Lucifer chuckled softly and licked a stripe up his neck before purring, “You won’t burst into flame if you put your arms around me, you know.”

“Begging me to cling to you now, is it?” Alastor sniped because, yes, that actually sounded like a good idea but he couldn’t just give in that easily.

For his part, Lucifer seemed more amused by his bitching than upset, “Would it kill you to be a little bit affectionate instead of acting like a feral cat?”

His tone was just so damn fond .

Breathing out on a huff, the stag capitulated and slid his arms around his king, under his arms and weaving between his wings.  He pressed his palms against Lucifer’s exposed scapula, marveling again at how peculiar his skin felt.  The fallen angel’s flesh was like nothing Alastor had felt on a breathing creature before, perfectly unblemished like fired porcelain.  Had he always felt like this or had his body baked in the fires of his fall?

Looking up, Alastor caught Lucifer staring down at him, coin-gold eyes glinting in the low light, “I think I like this better…when you touch me, that is.”

Alastor’s ears fell flat and he fought to urge to look away, “Such a needy thing.”

He didn’t let go.  

He didn’t make a single move to escape his lover’s touch.  All he could do was watch the flickers of flame radiating from Lucifer’s natural crown dancing in the serpentine well of his ancient gaze.

Lucifer smiled and kissed his brow, far too innocent and gentle a thing for the type of men they were, “You can bitch the whole time if you want.  It’s cute when you pretend like you don’t want to be here as much as me.”

And then before the Radio Demon could bitch about that particular comment, Lucifer captured his lips sweetly so all of his words were swallowed up.  He didn’t need the Sinner to be sweet and biddable to crave him.  Alastor was free to be as mercurial and pugnacious as he pleased and he would still be just as charming to the king.  Hell, maybe Lucifer found him more charming when he fussed and nipped like this.

This was such a change from their first time.

Lucifer was methodical as he kissed Alastor, deep and lingering.  He kept his Sinner tucked up beneath him, protected under the cover of muscle and wing like a living weighted blanket.  Something instinctive in Alastor welcomed the feeling of being enclosed and unseen in their moment of intimacy, acknowledging the superior predator who had claimed him.  It wasn’t often that he indulged in his more animal nature, but when Lucifer was looming above him, majestic and assured? Alastor reluctantly felt himself begin to melt into his hold.

The place between Alastor’s legs that had never known another’s touch but Lucifer’s dampened and clenched.  The stag could feel Lucifer’s arousal pressing hot and heavy between his legs, nestled up against the lips of his sex.  It had been two months since they’d known each other biblically as it were, but it seemed that Alastor’s body hadn’t forgotten the first and only man to be inside him.  His hips hitched, pressing the wet petals of his pussy up against Lucifer’s cock, causing the man to break their kiss and smile against the hinge of his jaw.

“Eager?” He purred with masculine pride.

Alastor dug his nails into the other man’s shoulders punitively and sneered right back, “Do you intend to do something about it, Your Majesty?”

Sharp teeth scraped at the tender place behind where a rounded ear would rest on a human and Alastor shivered while his king said, “You would have to use your word to stop me, habibi.  But…”

Alastor felt a nimble, artist’s hand drifting down the lean planes of his flat stomach, skating over a hip, and sneaking in between their bodies while Lucifer said, “It’s been awhile.  You’ll have to be patient while I make sure I’m not going to hurt you.  I rushed it last time.”

Two fingers found their way to the Overlord’s clitoris and stroked it leisurely, startling a gasp out of Alastor.  He had forgotten how intense that feeling was.  His thighs tensed and Lucifer hummed into the crook of his neck while he stroked his pearl in gentle circles.  Compared to last time, the heat that built inside of Alastor was almost lazy…the flicker of a glowing candle instead of the bone scouring consumption of an inferno.  He would sooner eat his own tongue than admit it but this felt…safe…after brushing so close to his own trauma so recently.

Alastor was sure he would regret his weakness later, but for now it was difficult to think with skilled fingers stroking his sex and soft lips tracing the veins in his throat.

“I’d have you like this every day if you’d let me, Alastor,” Lucifer said up against his fur while his hand drifted lower, one finger flirting with the Sinner’s entrance, “I’d end every day buried inside of you and be grateful for the privilege.”

“Ah!” Alastor gasped, ears twisting back on his head as the first finger sank knuckle deep into his fluttering cunt, “F-flattery will get you everywhere…”

“I’ll go on then,” the silver-tongued devil who had sired the child in Alastor’s belly crooned, crooking his finger inside of the Sinner, “One of the only mortal souls in the entire underworld with the balls to stand up to me, and here you are in my bed…full of our baby.”

Alastor’s back arched and he sighed as Lucifer stroked his insides, scarlet hair mussing up against the pillows, “Mmm…and here I thought I enraged you…”

A second finger found its way inside of him, scissoring his tender muscles carefully open, “We don’t always like to take our medicine, do we?”

The Sinner only growled at that, clutching Lucifer’s powerful shoulders and sliding his legs open wider to make room for his partner.  The Devil made a noise of approval and petted up against the sweet spot inside of him as a reward.  Alastor decided if his audacity had been the thing to get him into the king’s bed, then an encore was in order.  He slid one hand up to Lucifer’s hair, gripping it to draw him down into another kiss which the fallen was only too happy to acquiesce to.  His other hand wrapped around the base of Lucifer’s topmost wing, gripping tight and feeling the silken down of feathers in his fingers.

Lucifer hissed against his mouth, his own hips giving a short, sharp thrust as he briefly lost control.

He snarled against Alastor’s lips, breaking their kiss only long enough to slide a third finger into him, “You’re your own worst enemy, Mister Radio Demon…pushing boundaries the way you do…”

“I never settle for less than the best, Luci dear.  I like being reminded that I have it,” Alastor responded blithely as if he weren’t giving into instincts and rolling his hips down onto his lover’s fingers in little pulses.

“The best, hm?” Lucifer met his little thrusts stroke for stroke.

“That remains to be seen, ti zanj.”

“So it does,” the king rumbled and there was a glint in his glowing eyes.

Before Alastor had time to brace, Lucifer rolled them like an alligator in the sweet-tea waters of the bayou and sat himself tall and proud against the pillows.  Alastor landed astride his lap like a fine courtesan, hooves splayed wide.  The king’s fingers had slid from inside of him and had a firm grip on his hips, holding him up above the proud length of his erection.  Alastor’s pupils were blown wide and he was staring down into the king’s sly golden stare.

“Then come here and let me show you the best, habibi…” he whispered and used his grip on Alastor’s hips to guide him down onto his cock.

The blunt head of the king’s prick breached Alastor’s cunt and the Sinner couldn’t suppress his grunt, throwing his head back and tightening his own grip.  The stretch didn’t sting like it had the first time and gravity guided him down, down, down inch by inch until he was seated in Lucifer’s lap.  Alastor’s tail flagged high and he shuffled his knees on the blanket, trying to widen his hips to make room for the monarch inside of him.

“What are you doing?” Alastor panted at his partner.

Lucifer snuck one hand around to grip the base of Alastor’s tail, thumb stroking the fur as he said, “I took power from you earlier.  So.  Take it back.  Take your pleasure.”

Alastor stubbornly bit down the bleat that wanted to escape him when deft claws threaded into the fur of his tail, but there was no hiding the way his pussy clenched down around the thick length of Lucifer’s cock.  The best indeed .  

Still…

Last time had been easy enough - lie back and let Lucifer take him as he pleased.  It was strange and new to have control of sex placed firmly in his claws.  Alastor wasn’t entirely lost…one didn’t survive in Hell as long as he had without seeing quite a lot of the debauchery the districts had on display.  Seeing it and living it weren’t quite the same, but Alastor was nothing if not a quick study.

Using the king as his own personal throne, Alastor gave his hips an experimental roll and watched as Lucifer’s head fell back.  Unlike the buck, he did nothing to suppress his sounds, letting out an appreciative groan as Alastor began to move on top of him.  He bared his teeth and tightened his hands on the Sinner with every sinuous gyration and Alastor gained confidence with every passing moment with the king’s pleasure in his control.

“Father, you’re gorgeous…” Lucifer hissed, “I chose so well.”

“Of course you did,” Alastor replied, experimenting with rising high on his knees and sinking back down.

The reaction was immediate.

There was a short, sharp pain when the claws still on Alastor’s hip dug in and the flames between Lucifer’s horns kindled back into life with a flare of unholy radiance.  The king’s black tail thumped down hard on the bed, the spade flicking restlessly as a cat’s among the linens.  There was a potent thrill in how easily the Sinner could break down the first angel to ever fall from God’s dominion with nothing more than a few sweet words and his cunt.

What could he do but reward Lucifer for giving in so very prettily?

Alastor took up a slow, sultry rhythm in his king’s lap, rising and falling like a tide.  It was perhaps a touch clumsy at first, but he observed Lucifer carefully and he learned .  His partner’s face was open and unguarded, telling the Radio Demon exactly what brought him pleasure.  He whimpered when Alastor clenched around him on every upstroke.  He drew blood when Alastor lingered on the downstroke, rolling his hips with a filthy languor as sweltering hot as a New Orleans summer.

He wasn’t the only one to benefit.

Sitting astride the king instead of beneath him, Alastor controlled the angle of his own penetration.  If something wasn’t striking him just right, all he needed to do was tilt and he was seeing stars.  His sexual euphoria was his to own and he wasn’t at Lucifer’s mercy this time.  Who knew how much power there was in allowing yourself to be taken? 

It certainly didn’t hurt that Alastor had a prime view of his lover as he bounced on the Devil’s cock, sweat soaking his fur and juices slicking the pelt of his thighs.  

Beyond the haze of lust, Alastor was amused to note that his partner’s golden eyes were restless while they fucked.  Half the time they were locked on his face like a lowly Sinner had become the only object of worship worthy of his regard.  The other half? He was fixated on the small breasts half-hidden under Alastor’s ruff, fascinated by the way they jerked with every thrust.  How amusing that these little scraps of nothing…these negligible handfuls of flesh…could fascinate the King of Hell so?

(If Alastor happened to arch his back to put them on display just for the pride of being stared at, no one needed to know).

Lucifer was glorious.  Covered in sweat as he was, he shone like a marble statue from centuries long lost and his golden hair sparked like a sun Alastor would never see again.  Behind him, all six wings trembled and flexed so Alastor could feel the strength in them beneath his hand.  This was the king as he should be - magnificent, monstrous, and Alastor’s alone.

The king growled through the cage of his grit teeth, “I’m close, habibi.”

Alastor leaned into him, relinquishing his grip on wing and hair to pull Lucifer close until nothing existed between them but microns, “Then fill me, ti zanj.  You’ve earned it.”

Lucifer made a low, animal sound and gripped Alastor tight, thrusting rapidly up into him like his life depended on it.  Alastor snarled and held the king near, claws digging into his shoulders while he jerked, the sharp slapping sounds of their sex filling the air.  The vigor of Lucifer’s thrusts…the proof of his desperation…drove the stag right to the edge and he finally let out a bleat as he came, clenching down on the king.

It was all Lucifer needed.

The king came inside him with a wash of heat and a subsonic, polyphonic growl that seemed to split reality itself as he spilled inside of his partner.  The two demons rode out orgasm together, shuddering and gasping their way through the aftermath.  They clung to one another like drowning men, bathed in the red light of a hellish full moon bleeding in through sheer curtains.  The hand in Alastor’s tail relaxed by degrees, sliding up to settle on the small of his back instead of his most fragile appendage.

“You’re so beautiful…” Lucifer whispered, his voice still faintly split between one and many.

He was never more attractive to Alastor than in these moments when his guise of humanity was far away.

Coming down from the electric shock of a truly satisfying climax, Alastor laid his head on the other man’s shoulder, ears relaxed and hair a mess, “Mmmm, do go on.  I enjoy an occasional dessert after supper.”

Lucifer chuckled breathlessly into his hair, cupping the back of his Sinner’s head and smiling into the place beneath his left ear, “You’re infuriating.  You terrify me.  I hope our child is half as stubborn as you are just so you get a taste of it.  But…I wouldn’t change you, habibi.”

That name again.

Gently gathering up the bits of his brain that had been rattled around by perhaps the best sex he’d had yet, Alastor asked with faux idleness, “Mmm, forgive me, pet, but I fear that’s a language I never learned.”

The hand on the back of his head paused briefly before tangling adoringly in his ruffled locks, “I’m not sure it’s time to tell you, yet, but I promise it’s a good thing.  For now…just know that you’re mine and I’m yours.”

Alastor pulled back far enough to search the Fallen's face for any sign of dissembling and he had to look away again at the naked honesty he saw there…at the raw weight of his regard.  It was too much, especially when his whole body still felt pried open…especially when Lucifer was still inside of him, warm and weighty.  Alastor felt oddly cozy and he wasn’t sure if it was safe, but his muscles were also too weak for him to properly care.  One of the strongest beings in creation had him in his arms and was looking at him as if he personally had hung the moon in the sky.

It was all the power Alastor had ever wanted, but now that he had it, it felt more exposing than expected.

Rather than confronting it, the Radio Demon opted to cede the battlefield for the day to drift in post-coital contentment, “Just don’t forget that.  You’re mine…until I say you’re not, you’re mine.”

A hand slid down to Alastor’s belly and Lucifer said, quiet as a benediction, “You have no idea, habibi.”

~*~

WEEK TEN

Alastor hummed at the meek little knock on his door, one ear twisting to face it as he called out, “Come.”

It had been a relatively quiet day, all told.  

A full week out from the rather ill-fated discussion with Charlotte and his distressing episode with Lucifer and things had settled sufficiently.  Alastor had been on tenterhooks for a day or so, keeping an ear on the news the rest of the residents insisted on watching at night and eavesdropping whenever he caught Angel on his phone.  Whatever Valentino thought he’d learned on the street, he either had yet to share with Vox or Vox was playing a longer game.

Of course, Alastor had never understood why Vox hadn’t told anyone about his particular genital conformation, so maybe this was more of the same.  Who knew?

After a few days, the stag had relaxed on that front.

Charlie had been the more difficult issue to settle.  

He’d catch her watching him throughout the day much like her father did, though with a much different emotion on her doll-like face.  It was a mix of many things…apprehension not the least of them.  Sometimes when he was preparing his morning tea (horror of horrors), he’d hear the shuffle of unsure feet just beyond the doorway.  So as far as the princess went, he was still waiting for her to piss or get off the proverbial pot, but it didn’t leave him quite as tense as his one-time friend’s machinations did.

His door creaked open and…ah.

It seemed the time had come.

The Sinner straightened at his desk and turned slightly to see none other than Charlotte Morningstar haunting his doorway and looking terribly unsure.  Oh dear.  Heaving a great mental sigh, Alastor crooked a finger and just like that his loyal shadow was behind her, giving the girl a gentle push over the threshold.  Charlie squeaked in surprise as she was ushered in, wincing slightly as the door shut behind her.

“Now then, my dear, what is it I can do for you?” Alastor asked gaily.

Charlie’s eyes flicked off to the side and then back, apparently looking for the proper place to begin.  

Alastor turned his chair and folded one unguligrade leg over the other, resting his hands in his lap and speaking first, “I see we’re still having some big thoughts about the baby, then.”

The princess bit her lower lip, but having the subject broached for her seemed to loosen her tongue, “I…Alastor, I really wanted to apologize.”

“Whatever for?” He prodded.

“It wasn’t right the way I handled…well…any of this.  I was weird when I found out you and dad were a thing.  Then I insulted you when you and dad were just trying to tell me something…something sensitive. I didn’t think about…”

“About your father?” Alastor prompted and Charlie looked at him strangely.

“...About you, Alastor.  I didn’t think about you.”

Well, that put the Sinner a little on the back foot, didn’t it? Why on earth would it matter what he did or thought? He was simply the man who’d muscled in on her mother’s territory.

Rallying, he waved it off with the back of his hand, “Don’t be silly, Charlie dear.  I’m quite alright.”

“No, you were right.  I thought about it and…and things changing like this…it’s a little scary? I thought hard about what you said.  I realized I am scared that maybe mom won’t come back if dad moves on and that’s not fair.  I don’t even know why I said what I did because…really…what are you and dad supposed to do? Break up and…and I dunno…” the princess rambled.

Alastor cocked his head and teased out a bit more of the rot poisoning the Morningstars, “Charlie, what does it change if Lilith does not, in fact, return?”

Charlie blinked.

“Think on it, dear.  Who were you before your mother left? What were you doing? Languishing in the castle and listening to the people suffer whilst you sat on your hands? Who was your father? A sad, ridiculous little man shuffling around in the dark and surrounding himself with quacking abominations,” the Radio Demon explained, “And what have you achieved in her absence, hm? Have you not successfully established a hotel, fought off Heaven, and redeemed a soul? What about your life would Lilith returning change for the better, really?”

“I…” Charlie started and Alastor held up a finger.

“Why keep both your father and yourself frozen in time when you, dear girl, have achieved all of this on your own?”

The princess’ slim fingers went to her braid and she tugged it over her shoulder, worrying at the golden strands as she struggled with the thought, “I…Alastor, I really haven’t…I didn’t…”

“Stop,” the Sinner said firmly, eyes narrowing above his permanent smile, “I don’t allow your father to diminish himself and I won’t tolerate it from you either.”

That actually seemed to get Charlie’s attention and her nose scrunched up in thought, “...Alastor, what if everything I’ve managed to do is just because I wanted mom to come back to something really impressive? If…if she never comes back, then what…I’m worried it will be even harder to keep going.”

Alastor stood smoothly from his chair and sauntered the few feet required to loom over the princess, tucking his hands behind his back and hinging at the waist, “My my, I didn’t realize your love for the others was so very frail.  Where’s the young woman who spat in Heaven’s face, hm?”

“I do love the others!” Charlie protested, leaning back in her chair as he closed in.

“Then we’re back to my initial question…what changes if, in fact, you allow your father and yourself to outgrow your cages and your mother does not return ?”

In the wake of her considering silence, Alastor straightened and let his posture relax, “Do pardon me for stepping into Morningstar business.  I understand I’m not family and am unlikely to be in the future.  However, I would very much like for my child to know his father as he’s meant to be, not as a mere echo of greatness.”

That snapped Charlie back and she held up her hands.  At first she held her peace, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes while she tried to center herself.  Sensing that it wasn’t the time to press, Alastor bided, arms folded behind his back and static at a low, comfortable buzz.  After a few moments to steady herself, Charlie spoke.

“This is part of why I wanted to apologize.  You’re not outside of things just because this is new and I’m sorry if what I said made you feel like you were.  I still don’t entirely understand, but you’re going to have a baby.  They’re going to be my half-sibling and the way I talked around you last week…I’m not proud of it.”

Progress and more progress.

Alastor considered her, “...And what don’t you understand?”

“How all of this happened, I guess.  One minute you and dad hate each other, then you vanish into his bedroom for three days, and suddenly you’re dating and expecting!  I don’t…” Charlie slumped in her chair, “I feel dizzy thinking about it.”

The Radio Demon mulled over what possible response he could offer.

He’d been rather avoiding this discussion himself, hadn’t he? Always antagonizing or embarrassing Charlie to the point she’d leave it alone just so he wouldn’t have to talk about it.  He barely liked thinking too hard about it himself and putting it into words wasn’t something he was exactly keen on.  But perhaps…perhaps a little bit of honesty here might help further weaken that damn umbilical cord of Lilith’s still wrapped around Charlie’s neck and slowly choking the life out of her.

Lilith was gone, but he was here and he was present .  

With a wave of his hand, Alastor summoned his chair over and sat across from the blonde girl, “For the record…I quite like your father when he lets himself be a free man.  There was a period of, oh, several months before all of this happened when we became more closely acquainted.  What came after was an accident, I’m sad to say, and it’s been a bit on the speedy side for us as well.”

“Acquainted? I never saw you two do anything other than bicker,” Charlie blinked.

Alastor waved a hand in the air, “Oh, you wouldn’t have.  As it happens, your father is quite restless at night and he likes to come to the bar after midnight to drink.  Sometimes if he wanted company, he’d turn the radio on to summon me.  He’s easier to get along with away from prying eyes.”

Charlie watched him with big, glowing eyes.  This was one of those strange moments when Alastor fully felt the weight of how inhuman the Princess of Hell truly was, as if she were looking through him.  It should have irritated him to have his layers peeled back in such a way, but she was a rather impressive thing when she chose to become something closer to her natural state.  Alastor refused to associate with the weak and unworthy, so how could he do anything but bask in the raw power of his future child’s half-sister?

At last, Charlie huffed and folded her hands in her lap, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like someone before, except maybe Niffty.”

“It hasn’t proved particularly wise in the past.  I’m not even entirely sure it’s wise now, but here we are.”

“...You know my dad isn’t going to hurt you, right?” Charlie ventured, her voice softer than it had been.

Alastor settled his hands on the arms of his own chair, “People rarely intend to, my dear.  Unless they are, of course, me.  I’m rather a connoisseur of spreading a little misery!”

Undeterred by his merry malice, it was Charlie’s turn to lean forward, “You’re right.  They don't.  I didn’t.  That’s why I’m sorry and I’m promising I’ll do better.  If you need anything, let me know, okay?”

Damn the baffling sentimentality of Morningstars.

Aiming for dismissive, Alastor sniffed, “If it pleases you, dear.”

~*~

WEEK THIRTEEN

Watching a sinner sleep had never failed to unnerve Lucifer.

Those consigned to his underworld didn’t so much ‘sleep’ as cease to function, giving up their daily mockery of life.  Their bodies would go limp and cold like the puppets made of clay they were.  They no longer breathed, their chests failing to rise or fall in instinctive respiration.  Their hearts, such as they were, grew still.  They didn’t twitch or mumble or snore.  Their eyes didn’t flutter behind the thin skin of their lids.

When a Sinner went to sleep, it was as if they returned to true death.

There was a time when he thought he’d acclimated to this reality after so many eons sharing a bed with Lilith, but that had never been true.  He hadn’t gotten used to watching his wife ‘die’ some nights so much as he’d gone numb to it.  It was either that or lose what was left of his mind.

The first time it had happened, Lucifer had been horrified - gut-churning, bone-chillingly filled with dread.

Lilith was the first mortal soul to ever descend to Hell, so how was he to know that she would simply surrender all animation when she laid down her head to rest.  It had been so soon after the Fall that he had believed she’d finally been overcome by pain and injury.  Or perhaps losing her was meant to be his final punishment? Let him believe he could keep one good, shining thing in his existence and then rip it away once he was trapped down below.

He’d wailed in terror and shaken her so hard Lilith had almost attacked him when she came awake with a start.  She’d been wild-eyed and confused, but so very real and so very much not dead that Lucifer had broken down in her arms.  The discovery had been traumatic, but it had become at least somewhat easier with time.  All he had to do was go to sleep and when he woke up she’d still be there.

Yet there was always that spark of fear lurking deep in his breast.  

What if there came a day when she didn’t wake?

All of that is to say that he never quite got over the uncanny wrongness of seeing Sinners sleep, but he had never hated it more than watching his pregnant partner go so still .

Alastor lay on his side in their bed, pillow tucked between his knees to keep the damned ache out of his hips.  He’d begun to show very recently - not much, just a tell-tale bump that Lucifer worshipped above any god - and he was frequently tired enough to fall asleep first, which left the Devil to stand sentinel over him.  His ears, normally held high and alert, were left to droop pitifully against the pillow, his scarlet hair draped across the silken case.  His face was serene in repose, but it was the quietude of death.

One of the stag’s long, slender hands rested on his baby bump, arm draped loosely over his own waist.

It was hard to see the swaggering, smarmy Sinner like this…a hollow husk of a soul made material.  Only…it wasn’t hollow, not really.  Alastor was in there somewhere, along with their baby.

Frowning to himself, Lucifer scooted closer to Alastor’s prone body, reaching across the gulf to stroke his mussy hair.  In their quiet moments when they sat together at night to read or listen to music, Alastor would secretly lean into these touches.  He’d sooner die than admit it, but the stag actually rather enjoyed having his hair petted and (provided Lucifer didn’t comment on it) he’d welcome the mellow affection.  This time he remained motionless…lifeless.

Lucifer hated it.

He sighed hard through his nose and lay down almost nose to nose with his partner (his mate, a small and primal part of his brain murmured).  His hand stole down to lay flat against Alastor’s stomach, their fingers twining.

Alastor’s shoulders twitched and he drew in a sharp breath, blood-bright eyes flaring open in the darkness.  He looked feral for just a moment as he reoriented himself and Lucifer grimaced.  He’d been feeling clingy, but he hadn’t wanted to wake the Sinner up...especially not like this.

It was always bad to startle him awake.

Years of violence and making enemies meant that the stag would come up fighting.  It had briefly cost Lucifer an eye in the early days of their new co-sleeping arrangement, but he hadn’t blamed Alastor for it.  It had happened so damn fast and one look at the Sinner’s face was all it took to realize he wasn’t even seeing Lucifer properly.  He was running on instinct, one clawed hand coated in golden ichor and the other on his stomach.

Tonight however, Alastor’s gaze sharpened quickly and he let out a small, annoyed hum, “Luci dear, you realize of course that I can’t miss you if you never go away.”

Awake for thirty seconds and already bristling, the ridiculous thing.

“Sorry, Habibi,” Lucifer whispered gently into the dark, rubbing a thumb over the gentle swell of his stomach, “I just…”

Alastor tutted and relaxed back into the bed, eyes half-lidded and glowing, “Got lost in your own head again.”

“It’s hard at night.  You two go so far away from me.”

His partner stared at him for a long moment, saying nothing.  That too-clever gaze took the king apart at the seams and saw into the raw, wounded parts of him.  Lucifer was content to lie quietly and let him.

“Lucifer,” Alastor finally said, the radio filter over his voice dialed down to practically nothing, “We haven’t gone anywhere, pet.  Everything that is fundamentally me remains.”

“It doesn’t though,” Lucifer replied, leaning in to press their foreheads together just to be close to him, “You’re an opinionated, contrary menace.  You live to drive me absolutely insane.  That’s what makes you you.  Wherever Sinners go when you sleep is somewhere I can’t follow and I don’t…sometimes I feel left behind.”

“Well…” Alastor said slowly, his voice weighed down by fatigue, “If I ever hope to sleep through a full night before delivering your spawn, whereupon neither of us will be sleeping for a very long time, we had best do something about that.”

Lucifer blinked, “Alastor, hate to tell you this, but you can’t alter your fundamental nature.  Even I can’t influence the whole ‘eternal punishment’ thing all that much.”

“Hush,” the sleepy deer commanded, rolling fully onto his back beneath the covers, “And come here.”

The king shook his head affectionately at his partner and closed the remaining inches between them.  He would never turn down the chance to be near the mother of his second child - he just wasn’t that strong.  

There was a moment of awkward shuffling on the soft sheets as Alastor found a position that would allow Lucifer to be as near as possible without them becoming one flesh before the Sinner reached out for his lover’s hand.  With a perfunctory air, he settled it flat on the swell of his stomach, placing his own hand over it and just holding Lucifer’s sin stained fingers still.  Silence settled over their little world while the Devil waited on a held breath for something to happen.

The radio on Alastor’s side of the bed crackled to life.

“What…?”

“You would be surprised,” Alastor drawled, “to learn just how much of the world we perceive is little more than frequencies.”

A flutter, steady and rhythmic picked up over the radio.

“Foolish king of mine,” the voice was still snide, but it was the kind of Alastor-snide that would pass for affectionate in a normal person, “What do you hear?”

Lucifer was rapt, his eyes glued to where his hand was held against the thin fabric of his partner’s pajama top, ears pricked to the radio.  He knew what this was.  Without even having to be told, he knew.  It was a busy, delicate heartbeat amplified to the volume of a human whisper and broadcast through Alastor’s arcane gifts.  It was proof of life…proof that even when Alastor ceased to move or breathe, he hadn’t gone and taken the baby with him.  

He hadn’t left Lucifer alone.

“Now then,” the worn out Overlord murmured, “I’m going back to sleep.  I’ve an early start tomorrow and I refuse to go about my day looking more disheveled than I already do.”

Lucifer let out a chuckle that was little more than a puff of air, “You could just ask Charlie for lightened duties, you know.  You’re three months pregnant.”

Alastor stared up at the ceiling, eyes aglow as he said solemnly, “My mother worked her fingers to the bone until she was nine months.  I refuse to be weaker than her when she had less than me.”

That was another thing about mortal souls now that Lucifer was getting used to.

Angels rarely carried things like baggage around with them.  They had no history save that they were woven out of the raw potential of the cosmos by a Creator who was, at best, mysterious.  They sprang into being with a set design and an instinctive purpose, just another pencil sketch in someone else’s grand design. Even Lilith hadn’t really had a history.  She’d lived a relatively short time in the Garden and there had been nothing else of the world back in those days.  She’d fallen down into the darkness with Lucifer as damn near to a blank slate as a person could get from a ‘formative experiences’ point of view. 

Or…well…what formative experiences she’d had weren’t…they left less of an impact and more of a blast crater.

But now, thousands of years later? Mortal souls could live decades longer than the earliest members of the species that had arisen once Eden was done and dusted.  Years upon years upon years of life bumping up against other mortal souls.  Alastor himself had lived a stunningly short thirty-three, but that was still thirty-three more years of being taught who he was through experience than Lucifer had under his belt.  Alastor, unlike an angel or the First Woman, had had no purpose or destiny or greater understanding of who he was when he’d entered the world, squalling and helpless.  

Every minute he’d lived in the world above had pressed its thumbprint into his human clay and left an imprint.  

None of these were as deep as the one his mother had stamped into him.

All of the best parts of Alastor seemed to bear her mark - his stubborn defensiveness when it came to his baby, his gentlemanly regard for most members of the fairer sex, his almost obsessive work ethic, and even his (somewhat neurotic) passion for the kitchen.  This seemed to be another one of those things…a desire to emulate his mother’s most sainted qualities now that he found himself in a family way.

Lucifer would have liked to meet her.

“Take it at your own pace then, habibi,” he relented, leaning in to kiss the round of Alastor’s shoulder.

Satisfied that he’d won whatever non-argument that was, Alastor nodded once and finally let his eyes flutter closed again.  Briefly, Lucifer felt his stomach swoop as the body under his hands went limp and corpse-still when his Sinner succumbed to sleep, but then his ears picked up the unrelenting thump of their baby’s heart.  It was steady and small and so painfully real that the fear threatening to strangle the Devil where he lay released its terrible grasp and melted away.

The monsters that lived in the back of Lucifer’s ancient mind, for once, slept.

Chapter Text

WEEK FIFTEEN

Pregnancy, Alastor was finding, was rather unpleasant.

He was somewhere in the fourth month of carrying his child and his body had become a foul petri dish of biological changes.  He’d been gaining weight steadily thanks to the child growing inside of him, but it had actually been quite a vexation to Belphegor on the occasion her Baphomets had come for a checkup, considering the infant seemed to be the only thing growing.  Alastor himself was struggling to gain any ‘padding’ as it were, his Sinner body locked in the perpetual torment of nigh-emaciation.

The child, they had been assured, was hale and healthy.

Alastor on the other hand…

Well.

Without the added cushion of natural weight-gain, finding comfortable positions to sleep or sit in was proving quite difficult very early on.  As narrow-hipped as he was, Alastor’s pelvis was working hard to spread and make room for their child…which of course meant he was commonly filled with aches and pains.  Alastor’s baby-bump had been developing quickly and, most annoyingly, the stag found his center of gravity was…off.

He refused to admit that he had been stumbling of late.

Lucifer had been a fuss-budget over the whole ordeal of course, constantly trying to ply his lover with snacks and fatty foods in the hopes it would improve his weight issue.  He had yet to bring up the topic of Alastor not working again, respecting the boundary the Sinner had made, but that didn’t mean he didn’t hover appallingly.

Since their rather hard day in the Pentagram, the king had yet to return to his ‘travel sized’ state, preferring to stand tall and proud at Alastor’s shoulder throughout their days.  At night, he used his superior height to wrap himself protectively around his mate while they listened to the sound of their child’s heartbeat on the radio.  Joining the list of things that Alastor refused to admit was how well some part of his hindbrain reacted to the sheer size and power of Lucifer’s new form.

It was easier to ignore the pain in his hips at night when he was cocooned in the king’s embrace, that hellish body curled up against his back like a sentient hot water bottle to soothe his aches.

It was easier to sleep through the entire night now, his paranoid fears laid to rest by the literal beast of Eden moulded to his back in the deep dark of their room.

On a surface level, Alastor was annoyed to find himself settling so easily into this domesticated rhythm..  He was irritated when it occurred to him how little he bit back when Lucifer touched him at random with small kisses behind his ears, a hand at the small of his back, or even serving him at dinner (which Alastor always attended now).  God, what had he become? He appreciated that his king had become a king, but did Lucifer realizing his full potential really mean Alastor should lose his own?

It was a question Alastor mulled over while he lay lengthwise on an overstuffed couch in the lobby, his hooves propped up on the arm and his head resting on a thick pillow on the opposite side.  He got tired so very easily these days and it was only beginning to see the halfway point.

At least it was still early enough in the day that Angel Dust was still asleep, Niffty was hard at work in the upper floors, the rest of the residents were involved in Charlie’s redemption exercises, and Husk knew better than to say a damn word.  Ergo, Alastor had time to drift through his own thoughts, claws stroking rhythmically over the taut skin of his baby bump.  

Alastor knew one thing he could do to help with his weight.

He hadn’t indulged in his more…anthropophagous pastimes since he’d first fallen into bed with Lucifer and they’d discovered they had a baby on the way.  How was he meant to go hunting when his partner was lurking about like his own personal shadow? If Lucifer found out he was out consuming the citizens of the Pride Ring, then surely Charlie would as well and that was a lecture Alastor couldn’t (incidentally) stomach.  Alastor regretted nothing and being taken to task over a bit of light cannibalism would simply be an exercise in frustration for all involved.

However…

Lucifer was occupied today with his own work.  There was no reason Alastor couldn’t nip out for a quick visit to see how darling Rosie.  Honestly, he was likely long overdue for a trip out to Cannibal Town.  The scarlet Sinner knew for a fact that Rosie would be incredibly vexed at him for failing to reveal his pregnancy this long.  He could perhaps beg a degree of mercy considering there’d been no call for a general meeting of the Sovereign Overlords, but he also knew that excuse would be thin as tissue paper to a dame as savvy as Rosie.

They were hardly the kind of acquaintances who only caught up at meetings.  Alastor knew it, Rosie knew it, and he was going to be in so much trouble for putting this off.

Well, Lucifer could hardly be annoyed at him for spending a lovely afternoon in one of the safest districts in all of Pride, could he?

Well…safest for Alastor at least.

Even if he didn’t love it, he’d already promised that Alastor would maintain his autonomy and it would be easy enough to explain.

Yes.  

Yes, it was time that Alastor gave the news to Rosie and received the nearly four months belated dressing down he was surely due.  He was still in a bit of hot water after vanishing for nearly a decade without a single word said, and quite lucky that she’d chosen to be a lady about it.

Perhaps if she were in a good enough mood she might supply him with some of the food he’d been missing out on while minding his manners with Lucifer.

Alastor grunted, starting to extricate himself from the cozy little position he’d gotten himself into, cursing the bump that was only just beginning to throw off his center of gravity.  Grudgingly, he cupped a hand under it to steady himself while using the other to push himself up from the couch with more difficulty than his dignity allowed him to acknowledge.  He wasn’t that big at all, really, but with as gaunt as he normally was? It was certainly more difficult for him than it would be for someone with a more ‘plush’ frame.

He paused on the edge of the couch, feet on the floor, and took a moment to stroke his hand over the baby growing inside him through the thin cage of his skin, “You, my dear, had best appreciate all the effort I’m going to once you’re here.  I expect you to sleep through the night, little fawn.  No fussing for maman.”

Alastor’s hand stopped its petting when he realized what he’d called himself.  It had felt natural and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

Ah well, the lure of food and good company called, so that was a bit of analysis best reserved for later.

But, of course because this was Hell and punishment in some form was always assured, Husk took that moment to step through the door after collecting the day’s mail, a grim look on his already sour face.  His yellow eyes said ‘trouble’ and he had a letter in his hand kept carefully apart from the rest of the junk and detritus that usually flooded the mailbox.  Alastor zeroed in on that envelope, recognizing it all too well.

“Boss,” Husk said, holding the offending item out between his pointer and middle finger, “Carmilla’s handwritin’.”

“Indeed,” Alastor said and took the letter, sliding his thumb claw beneath the wax seal he knew by heart.

“What does she want?” Husk asked, tension in his voice that sounded surprisingly sober.

Husk had been an Overlord once, same as Alastor, and he knew only too well that a direct message from Carmilla Carmine carried a certain weight to it.  She wasn’t precisely the leader of their particular social caste, but she was the most organized and (though only by a thin margin) the least self-interested.  Her ability and willingness to marshal the troops - not to mention her unrivaled stockpile of angelic steel - made sure that her words carried with the force of a shout.

“A moment, Husker,” Alastor hummed, slipping the missive free from its envelope.

His scarlet eyes flicked over the woman’s obsessively neat handwriting and his spirits sank precipitously.  Well, there went any hopes of a nice afternoon with Rosie and the promise of a meal that might actually satisfy his child.  She was calling an emergency Overlord meeting and he was rather sternly requested to attend.  Goodness knew what bee had gotten into the old girl’s bonnet this time, but she didn’t sound like she was in a mood for games.

Oh well.  Perhaps if Alastor was particularly charming he could accompany Rosie back to Cannibal Town after the meeting.

He folded the letter back up and handed it over to Husk, “Emergency meeting, it would seem.”

“For what?” Husk asked warily, scrunching up his nose as he read over the letter to see if it would give him a clue, “We haven’t heard a peep out of Heaven and nobody down here's really tried anything lately.  Least, nobody's tried anythin' big enough to get Carmilla's attention.”

Ah, Husk.  For a man so soaked in liquor he was astoundingly astute and his paranoid nature meant he questioned everything.  It was rather the reason why Alastor kept him around…his own personal canary in a coal mine.

“Haven’t the foggiest,” the Radio Demon chirped blithely to disguise his own guarded feelings about a frankly unwarranted meeting out of the blue, “But do me a favour would you? Do pass that on to His Majesty and let Charlie know I’ll be at the meeting.  There’s a good boy.”

Husk hissed softly, but it was more for show than actual irritation at being made to step and fetch.

There was a comprehension in his normally addled eyes as he cottoned on to precisely what Alastor intended.  He was telling the two most powerful beings in all of Hell precisely where he was going to be and exactly who to blame if something went wrong.  Petty, yes, but Alastor never stepped into a bad situation without the promise of back-up…or revenge, at the very least.  

“...You could just not go, boss,” Husk offered carefully.

Alastor let out a barking laugh, “Ha! No.  It simply wouldn’t do to be tardy to an appointment.”

The fallen Overlord’s sulfurous eyes flicked to his baby bump and back up, red brows raising as if to say ‘You sure about this?’

Pulling his coat closed to conceal his bump, Alastor’s smile sharpened and he was pleased that Husk got the message loud and clear.  The other man held up his hands in surrender before sliding the letter into his pocket and making to shuffle off.  He had his marching orders.

Alastor watched him go before straightening his coat and heading for the door.

No, this wasn’t his wisest idea, leaving the safety of the hotel to attend a meeting that was bound to be unpleasant with a future prince or princess of Hell growing inside of him.  Lucifer would be furious when he found out and Charlie would likely be frantic, poor dear.  However, in the game of Overlord politics, sometimes the decisions were made for you.  If Alastor failed to show up to this meeting, he’d either be broadcasting disdain for Carmilla (a dangerous move) or weakness (more dangerous by far).  

He was weaker than he’d like to be, drained by how many nutrients the baby was demanding from him and a depleted diet.  Which meant, of course, he had to put on quite a performance so none of those jackals would ever know.

Very well then.  Showtime.

~*~

Alastor strolled into the high-rise’s entry hall with a twirl of his cane and a swagger in his step.  He carefully scrambled the video feeds as he walked by and concealed his grim surprise when he was the only one stepping into an elevator car.  Usually the herd of cats that were the sovereign Overlords of Hell didn’t deign to be punctual in the slightest, all crowding in at the last minute.  That he was alone while still being on time? Rotten business, that.

Still, the Radio Demon made a show of humming a little nonsense tune, utterly unbothered as the car carried him up to their designated meeting space.

It dinged open blandly and Alastor swallowed down his suspicious unease, swanning up to the doors and opening them with a flourish.  Let the assembled Overlords see that he was either too foolish to understand that he was walking into a trap, or that he was powerful enough not to fear one.  They’d underestimate him in the first case, or decide he wasn’t suitable prey in the second.  Either way, never good to let a predator know that you were aware of them.

His suspicions were confirmed when the meeting table was full and all discussion promptly died the instant he stepped in.

Alastor took a moment to catalog the faces he knew he’d need to concern himself with.

Carmilla and Zestiel were at the head of the table as per usual, the former’s face a mask of cold superiority, and the latter as pleasant and sphinxlike as you please.

Zeezi and a few of the others were a combination of excited and tense, but the Radio Demon wasn’t ticking them off on the list of high-priority threats he’d have to account for.  

Rosie, dear Rosie, had a moue of distaste on her doll-like face, but it wasn’t leveled at him.  So, it would seem that she was at least somewhat in his corner for the time being.  Curious, he followed her eyeline and found all three of the Vees seated together on the opposite side of the table.

Oh dear.

Velvette at least looked like she wasn’t incredibly interested in the goings-on, deep in her handheld phone contraption and idly popping gum, the horrid woman.  Alastor didn’t dare count her out in a fight, but she wasn’t an immediate threat either.  Vox and Valentino’s expressions, however, sent a bolt of ice down to the base of Alastor’s tail.

Valentino was leaning on the table leering directly at the scarlet Sinner like he was the tastiest treat in the candy store.  There was cruelty and mockery in that gaze - a school bully who’d gone running to teacher to spin a story before you could defend yourself.  It was the look of a man who had gotten away with something, or expected to do so in the very immediate future.

Most concerning of all, however, was Vox.

The man’s digital face had nary a sign of amusement or wicked glee the way he usually did when he suspected Alastor was about to swing in the wind.  He looked serious as death, elbows propped on the table and fingers laced in front of his mouth, eyes narrowed.  Vox’s hard stare started at Alastor’s face and lingered for only a moment, blazing with cold hatred, before it slid down to his stomach and stayed .

Oh.  Oh no.

Valentino had told him after all.

“Alastor,” Carmilla’s richly accented voice cut through his dismay and he turned to face her, “Thank you for being punctual.”

Putting on a winning showman’s grin, Alastor went to his usual empty chair next to Rosie, “Why of course , Carmilla.  Might I say that it is a treat to see everyone in attendance and on time today! Whatever is the occasion?”

Rosie gave him a strained look as he made to sit and oh dear, that certainly didn’t bode well in the slightest.

Carmilla’s hellfire-red eyes narrowed and she folded her arms neatly behind her back, cutting him off before he could claim his chair, “We have received disturbing news about the shifting power structure of Hell.”

Valentino’s grin grew wider and Alastor felt hatred bloom in his blood, but the game was still in play so he crooned, “Really? Well, then I am so pleased that you called the meeting.  What have you learned?”

Alastor could be quite good at playing dumb when the occasion called for it.

Carmilla, of course, wasn’t fooled by his act and a spark of annoyance flashed in her eyes.  She was dreadful at this part of Overlord politics…the sly maneuvering and vicious repartee between parties.  The woman was blunt as a butcher’s hammer.

“Open your coat, Alastor.”

Startled radio static sliced through the air before Alastor could tamp down his reaction and he tried to play it off, “I beg your pardon? I hardly see anyone else at this meeting dressing down, my dear.”

“No one else here is under investigation,” Carmilla said, cutting Alastor’s verbal capering off swift and sure.

“I would like an explanation before I stoop so low as to disrobe in front of the assembly.”

Valentino spoke this time, cooing condescendingly, “Oh, don’t be shy, mami , I know what I smelled.  I also know that coat isn’t fitting you the way it used to.”

Alastor resisted the urge to recoil in disgust, keeping himself perfectly still and his smile in place though he couldn’t avoid frowning with his eyes at being outed like this.  This wasn’t on his terms.  He wasn’t deciding the playing field.  God, he should have been more wary of what the Vees would do with Valentino’s knowledge, but how would he have anticipated that this would be Vox’s play? He had expected a little bit of skullduggery, of course, but normally Vox went for a more direct route than this.

“Enough,” Carmilla said flatly, already at the end of her patience with the Porn Overlord’s particularly crude taunting, “Alastor, we received reports that you have, against all odds, managed to breed with the King of Hell.  We wish to corroborate these statements.  Should they be unfounded, then we can adjourn the meeting and carry on with our day.  However…”

Damn.  Double and triple damn it.  There was no hiding his bump without the extra layer of his coat.  Alastor’s mind worked overtime trying to figure out a way to spin this to his advantage and decided that owning this and playing the part of the Devil’s unapologetic lover was the safest bet.  Use Lucifer’s status and power as a shield right here, right now perhaps? It wouldn’t solve all of his problems, but it would make him seem unassailable in the moment.

Sneering, Alastor reached for his coat buttons and opened the garment, flicking the panels to the side and cocking a hip to accentuate the baby bump hiding beneath it, “Well, I hardly see what all the fuss is about, but go ahead and confirm if you must.”

Something instinctive in Alastor’s brain wanted to recoil when an entire room of the worst humanity had to offer was focused not on him, but on his baby.  The prey beast programmed into the back of his head wanted to drop into the shadows and flee back to the safety of Lucifer’s rooms where there were soft pillows and dark corners.  He wanted to snarl and get his fawn out of here, but he ferociously reined in the impulse.  The Radio Demon did not hide .

Vox’s face glitched hard and he muttered, “Christ…” under his breath.

Alastor caught Carmilla staring at his stomach and swiftly buttoned his coat back up to break her focus, “So.  Clearly whatever little birdie twittered away in your ear was correct.  What now, my dear?”

It took a moment for the woman to find her words again, “...Surely you realize this is unacceptable.”

The Radio Demon raised one elegant eyebrow in the direction of Odette and Clara, who currently flanked their mother like pretty little chess pieces.

Carmilla’s jaw set, “Your situation is wholly unique, Alastor.  There hasn’t been a pregnant Sinner in Hell for hundreds of years, a fact I am sure the angels are going to be thrilled with should they discover your condition.  Moreover, carrying the King’s child elevates your status in ways that will thoroughly unbalance the power structure of the Overlord Class.”

Alastor laughed harshly and tried to ignore the way his heart was pounding, “So, I’m to be punished for selecting the best possible partner?”

“This is not punishment, Alastor.  This is ensuring that you don’t bring everything down around our ears,” Carmilla replied, “We need to even the scales.”

“And how do you propose we do that?” The stag sneered.

“We’ve discussed it and there are three choices open here, Bambi,” Vox piped up, leaning forward and pinning Alastor with a merciless stare, “First, you cut things off with the King, terminate the kid, and carry on as an Overlord. It'll be messy for you, but you did this to yourself.”

The buzz of radio static grew around Alastor and the back of his neck went tight at the very idea…

But then Valentino was picking up the slack, “Oooooor, if you’re ready to settle down and get all barefoot in the kitchen with the king’s brat, then you surrender Overlord status and hand over all your souls to be divided evenly.  Not like you’ll need them when you’re getting busy bending over for the devil every night, hm?”

“Or,” Velvette cut him off without looking up from her phone, utterly ignoring the way Alastor’s eldritch aura swelled at the offense, “If you ain’t gonna be reasonable, we put you down here and toss your body into an alley for Lucifer to find, take your souls anyway, and be done with it.  You've got plenty of people you've pissed off who'd be willin' to take you out, so finding a patsy to take the fall won't be a problem for us.  So, which is it?”

“Well!” Alastor drawled past his own static, perceiving the world in frequencies as his eyes tipped over into radio dials despite how very jovial he endeavored to sound, “I have to say none of those offers really trip my trigger.  Too bad for you.  I do recommend those pitches get just a touch more workshopping before you bring them to the table again.”

The tense atmosphere of the room intensified at his flat refusal and he tried to calculate his odds.  Valentino usually kept at least one blessing-tipped pistol on him at all times and Vox certainly wouldn’t be unarmed.  Rosie didn’t look like she was enjoying this at all, so it was highly likely she wouldn’t be part of the lynch mob, but Carmilla more than made up for her unwillingness with the damn arsenal she was no doubt carrying.  The others were likely to either trip him up or add to the confusion, which really wasn’t ideal.

Drat.  Alastor had suspected a trap from the start, but this was entirely beyond the pale.

Before Carmilla could decide further negotiations weren’t worth her time, Vox stood from his seat and put his hands on the table, leaning forward, “You know, there’s a fourth option we could consider.”

“We never agreed on a fourth course of action, though?” Zeezi pointed out with confusion evident in her voice.

“Look,” Vox said in the television presenter voice that had half the Pentagram in its sway, “I think we can all agree that option three is risky.  Sure, it’s the one this stubborn asshole is going to end up choosing just because contrary is written into his DNA, but if the king figures out what really happened we’re all double dead.  Bambi wants a sweeter deal? Let’s give him one.”

Somehow, Alastor felt even less sure of this than he had with the threat of death and dumping only moments ago.  This was a particular skill of Vox’s…give someone an offer so ludicrously terrible on its face that anything that came next, no matter how insidious, would sound reasonable in comparison.  He’d snagged so many souls that way and yet somehow more lined up at his door every day.

“So, Alastor doesn’t want to give up baby daddy or his souls.  Fair enough.  I get it,” Vox said, drumming his claws, tak-tak-tak, slowly on the table…rhythmic…hypnotic, “I’m a more, more, more kinda guy myself, so I respect the moxie.  But, Carmilla’s got a point that the rest of us don’t stand a chance with this maniac at full power and with the king’s ear.  He needs a minder…maybe a deal to keep him in check…”

Alastor’s entire soul revolted at the implication and he realized in that moment that this was all orchestrated.  

Vox didn’t give one shit about maintaining the power balance of the Overlord class, not at all.  He’d gladly overthrow it himself if he felt like he had even half a chance.  No, he’d gone running to Carmilla with the news that Alastor was pregnant by the Devil himself just to reach this endgame…to offer the bad deal and sneak a worse one in under it.  This whole song and dance had all been an overture for this moment.

This was Vox’s show and the rest of the Overlords were merely bit players in it, the swine.

To Alastor’s horror, Carmilla seemed to be considering it and he gritted his fangs in repugnance, tasting a well of fetid dead blood filling the back of his mouth.

Rosie chose that moment to break her silence, standing from the table and gesturing delicately with her perfectly manicured hands, “Well now, Voxxy, that ain’t a bad idea at all! Why, me’n Al go way back.  He could make a deal with me, easy.  Not to mention he’s always in Cannibal Town so it’d be easy-peasy to keep an eye on him.”

Vox’s eyes narrowed and Rosie leveled him with an overly-saccharine smile.

Bless the woman for throwing a wrench into his plans and demonstrating a flaw in his maneuver.  She’d just chummed the waters and showed the entire table that Vox didn’t necessarily have to be the one holding the deal.  There would be no deal of course, but it would keep the table confused and arguing over the possibilities long enough that Alastor could plan his next move.

As one of the lesser Overlords (surely hungry for the kind of power that would come of having Alastor on a leash) raised a protest, dragging the rest of the assembly into it, Rosie moseyed over and hissed in her friend’s ear, “You owe me one hell of an explanation, mister.”

“I don’t suppose you’d believe I was actually on my way to visit you when I received the letter to attend this little farce?” Alastor whispered back, watching as Carmilla tried to wrangle the meeting back into order.

“You owe me anyway.  Four months of literal radio silence and now this?”

Alastor was just opening his mouth to reply when a very familiar rip in the fabric of reality yawned at the foot of the table and no one less than Lucifer Morningstar stepped out.

The room went deadly silent, all arguments forgotten in the face of their king.  

Lucifer stood at his new height, decked out in his usual ringmaster finery without a single hair out of place and a bland expression on his face.  Alastor had expected a certain amount of anger when Lucifer hunted him down today, but instead the fallen angel just looked bored .  He stood casually, hands in his pockets while he scanned the meeting room like everyone there personally uninterested him.  When his eyes finally landed on Alastor, he brightened up a bit.

“Oh, hey, there you are, Al.  You didn’t mention you had a meeting today,” Lucifer said casually.

Liar.  The only way he’d known to even start looking for Alastor was that damn letter.  Alastor respected his approach, though he wasn’t sure Lucifer was aware of what he was doing.  Playing it casual as if he had no actual idea what was going on made it seem that they had a deep connection…that no matter where Alastor was, the king would dog his footsteps.  It was covetous.  It perpetuated the narrative that Alastor didn't have to tell the king where he was because the man would simply sniff him out when and where he wished.

Leaving his place at Rosie’s side, Alastor sauntered to Lucifer and did quite a good job at hiding the weakness in his legs, “Forgive me, Luci dear.  It was all rather last minute.  Carmilla wanted to discuss a particular matter.”

“Oh?” Lucifer drawled and turned to look directly at the woman in question.

To her credit, when she bowed to the king Alastor suspected it was sincere and she said, “Forgive me for the intrusion, Your Majesty, but yes.  We needed to discuss the matter of your association with Alastor and his continued position as an Overlord.”

At least she had the conviction to say it directly to the king’s face, Alastor supposed.

Lucifer cocked his head like a little bird, “Okay.  Aaaaand?”

Undaunted, Carmilla soldiered on while the rest of the room shifted uncomfortably, “Operating as both your consort and Overlord creates a certain power imbalance the likes of which we have never seen before.  Queen Lilith kept to the higher affairs of ruling the kingdom, leaving the Overlords to see to the keeping of our own souls.  Having Alastor serving in both capacities risks a bleed of authority and leaves us unable to solve our own issues at the risk of the king interceding at his behest.”

Lucifer blinked and then looked at Alastor with a snort, “Consort, huh?”

Alastor responded with a one-shouldered shrug.  He kept still when he felt a possessive arm snake around his waist, Lucifer’s strong hand gripping his hip too tightly to be anywhere near as casual as he was acting.  Oh dear, it seemed he was a little vexed after all.

“Well,” the king said, turning back to the rest of the room, “Let’s go ahead and get a few things straight here.  Alastor does whatever the fuck he wants and I’ve fully given up trying to figure any of it out.  I have a total of zero interest in whatever he has going on with you and the only interference you can expect from me is if I catch anyone trying their luck…y’know, provided Al doesn’t take care of it first.”

The tension in the room was so tightly wound now that it was practically palpable.  Alastor could almost taste it on the back of his tongue.

“The egocentricity of mortal souls, I swear,” Lucifer grumbled, rolling his eyes, “I have seven entire rings to oversee and a Heaven that’s pretty unhappy with me at present.  Why in Father’s name would I waste time dragging myself around the Pentagram breaking up fights that are, in the grand scheme of the cosmos, so infinitesimally uninteresting that they’re not even a ripple in reality?”

It was Alastor’s turn to blink in surprise when he felt his stomach go warm at the sight and sound of Lucifer owning his position of power as the king.  He realized somewhat distantly that the little display aroused him.  Well, wasn’t that interesting?

Still…

Alastor’s perpetual smile became a nasty smirk as he turned to Vox and Valentino, deciding to put the final nail in this whole stupid argument’s coffin, “I suppose this effectively tables our little discussion in regards to termination and leashes?”

The way Lucifer went utterly still at his side sent a delicious shiver down Alastor’s spine, his hidden tail wagging in interest.  The hand on his hip tightened until claws threatened to poke through the bespoke fabric.

In a dangerously casual voice, the Devil said, “There seems to be an interesting conversation I missed.”

“Oh, nothing too drastic, dear,” Alastor chirped, “The assembly simply had a few ideas to ensure there would be fair play among the sovereign Overlords…a separation of powers if you will.  If I wished to remain an Overlord, I simply needed to abort our child and end our relationship.  Otherwise, I was to cede all power and dedicate myself only to you.  Oh, although they did float the compromise that I could keep both if I agreed to wear someone’s chain.”

Alastor really was being quite nice by failing to bring up the last option had been Vox’s idea.  Well, not so much ‘nice’ as ensuring future good behaviour by making it very, very clear that the man owed him for not putting his neck directly on the chopping block.  

This time.

Heat flared next to Alastor and he felt more than saw as six massive wings unfurled beside him, forming a living barrier at his back.  The stag’s cunt gave a traitorous little twitch when he beheld the light of Lucifer’s hellfire dancing in the sharp angles of Carmilla’s austere features.

“Let me make one thing perfectly clear,” Lucifer rumbled and it was an effort not to croon at the sheer power in his ancient voice, “You stay out of my business, and I’ll stay out of yours.  For the record? Alastor is my business.  This Sinner is mine.  The child in his belly is mine.”

A clawed hand moved from Alastor’s hip to his stomach, splaying out over the curve of it, “And if I find that any of you have been meddling in my business? My wrath will make the exterminations look like tender mercies in comparison.  Am I understood?”

The silence was deafening.

At last, Carmilla knelt deep and bowed her head, no longer looking upon the sight of the King of Hell unchained, “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Good,” Lucifer bit out, “Meeting adjourned.  Alastor, would you like a quick trip home?”

As opposed to the last time Alastor had gone out, this was a request and not a demand.  Why, it seemed like Lucifer was doing his best to establish the Sinner’s autonomy this time instead of issuing orders.  

“Hmmm,” the Radio Demon pretended to consider it, making the king wait before spreading his hands, “Oh, why not? I really should get off of these aching hooves.  Rosie, dear? Do feel free to call at the Hotel whenever you like.  I’ll see you later, darling!”

Then Lucifer was clicking his fingers and Alastor gratefully slid from his grasp to beat a dignified retreat into the portal.

~*~

Once again in Lucifer’s quarters (goodness, but the man was possessive), Alastor made a beeline for his chair and settled into it, stretching his aching hooves out in front of him.  He sighed and toed off his shoes, listening as Lucifer snapped the portal closed.  The taller man’s boots clicked against the flooring and Alastor suddenly felt a strong hand in his hair, gently guiding his head back against the cushions to look up into the face of his lover.

Lucifer’s insouciant air had dropped the instant they were alone and he was frowning, hellfire banished and wings tucked to his back, “Are you alright?”

Oh, was he not in trouble? What a change!

Relaxing into Lucifer’s hold, Alastor made a soft sound, “Perhaps a mite rattled, though entirely untouched.  I’m quite alright.”

“I’m going to ask what you were thinking going in there alone and I would appreciate it if you answered me honestly.”

Well, he wasn’t happy per se, but he was handling it better than the last time he’d found Alastor in danger, so honesty seemed to be the best policy.  Discretion being the greater part of valour and all that.

“Frankly? Making the best play I could with a game someone else set up.  Luci dear, you must understand the implications had I refused to attend,” Alastor said reasonably.

Lucifer’s frown deepened, “Lay them out for me.”

“Simply put, had I declined it would have been a terrible show of weakness.  For an Overlord, weakness is little better than a death sentence.  Moreover, no matter what our association, I am still the Radio Demon and I refuse to be a diminished thing simply because we’ve become entwined,” Alastor replied, “Not to mention, a grievance between Overlords doesn’t simply vanish if one ignores it.  We're quite petty like that.  No, if I hadn’t answered the summons, they would have found another avenue to solve the problem…one I may not have been able to prepare for.”

Recognition dawned on those gorgeous features and Lucifer breathed, “You knew I’d come.”

“Correct.  It’s why I had Husker deliver Carmilla’s letter to you.  I had hoped you would make an appearance in the case that things went sideways.”

The king’s displeasure softened and he leaned down to press their foreheads together, “Habibi…I will always come for you.”

Something perilous wove its way through Alastor’s rib cage as he considered those words…that touch.  Yes…Lucifer had come right in the nick of time, hadn’t he? He’d played it well too, doing nothing to make Alastor look weak among his peers and rivals.  He had made him look…well…like something worthy of being desired.  How much power had he just given Alastor in the Overlords’ eyes by being so devoted to him that he would threaten to tear Hell apart just to keep him?

Pulling back, the Sinner took a moment to study Lucifer’s eyes, finding them unguarded and raw, before readjusting the angle to kiss his lover on the mouth.  It was soft, just a brush of lips, but he needed to do it.  He needed to reward this unholy man.

With a helpless sound, Lucifer chased his mouth, and Alastor allowed it, sliding his lips open and lifting a hand to press against the king’s smooth cheek.

Kissing Lucifer was so very novel.

His taste was quite singular, a combination of brimstone and whatever sugar concoction he’d eaten most recently, occasionally a sharp tang of fruit, and bitter coffee.  His mouth was warm and wet and he was so attentive with that damn serpent’s tongue.  He was gentle but determined, stroking every inch of Alastor’s mouth with such a careful attention to detail that it made the stag’s head spin.  He cradled the back of Alastor’s head tenderly, allowing his Sinner to feel the sheer size of his hands where they spanned his skull.

His king .

Alastor made a breathless sound and broke their kiss, staring into the face of the Devil.

He truly was handsome like this…tall and broad with his graceful horns on display, but his face still utterly guileless.  The first fallen angel in all of creation and yet his serpentine pupils were blown wide for a Sinner.  He had come running for Alastor .

This was a king worthy of worship.

Making up his mind, Alastor nudged Lucifer slightly and said, “Come around the chair, dear.  Stand in front of me.”

Lucifer shot him a helplessly amused grin and shook his head, but did as bidden regardless, “What’s gotten into your head, Al?”

“I think a reward is in order, don’t you?” 

His lover chuckled, “Alastor, you don’t need to reward me for caring about your safety.”

Alastor rolled his eyes, “Come here, you ridiculous fool.”

He reached up with long-fingered hands and laid them on Lucifer’s waistband.  Quickly, Lucifer stopped him with a gentle grip around his wrist.

“Habibi? Tell me what you’re thinking about right now.”

“I believe I would like to put my mouth on you,” Alastor said bluntly and watched as a golden flush of interest crept up Lucifer’s neck.

Still, the man didn’t release his wrist, “We haven’t done that before.  Are you sure?”

“Dearest, do I ever offer anything I don’t want to give?” The Sinner asked.

Puffing out a breath, Lucifer finally released Alastor’s wrist and instead reached up to stroke his hair, “Point taken.  Let’s go slow though, okay?”

“You know better than to coddle me, Lucifer,” the Sinner quipped and undid his fly with perhaps a touch of passive aggressive force.

Yet the king’s hands in his hair continued their gentle petting, “It’s because I want to savour this.”

This man…

Bristling ego soothed, Alastor’s hands gentled on the waistband of Lucifer’s trousers, easing them open delicately.  To be honest, Lucifer’s caution was likely warranted considering Alastor had no actual clue what he was even doing outside of the very, very academic applications of…well…applying one’s mouth.  He gingerly plucked at the waistband of the undergarments beneath, peeling them down until he could see the pristine expanse of alabaster skin at the apex of his lover’s thighs.

His breath caught when he found Lucifer’s erection waiting for him, pressing up against the soft fabric of his underwear.  A damp spot denoted where Lucifer’s precum had already made an appearance.

Alastor looked up at Lucifer and said dazedly, “...You’re already hard.”

Lucifer smiled fondly down at him and freed one hand to cup the stag’s jaw, “Al, you offered to blow me.  There is literally no way I wasn’t going to be instantly aroused.”

A shock of pride lanced through Alastor and his lips parted on a sigh of pleasure.  He had so much control over the literal king and all he had to do was offer a sexual favour.  It went straight to his head and he felt his ears lower against his will, relaxing into Lucifer’s talented hands.

“You’re so beautiful…” Lucifer said, massaging the bases of those active appendages and scratching at his lover’s scalp, “Not just like this.  You’re always beautiful.  I saw you napping on the couch last week and you were beautiful.  You get little cowlicks in your tail while you sleep and I love them.  I love the way your hooves curl when you lie down at night.  I love when you touch your bump without thinking about it when you cook breakfast…”

Alastor couldn’t bear to look at that open, honest face a moment longer.  

He looked down at the manhood in front of him and swallowed thickly.  Lucifer was a fool.  How could he find Alastor’s most ignoble and undignified traits anything resembling attractive? 

The stag stroked his thumbs over the waistband and pulled them the rest of the way down rather than face the depth of that flaying, exposing adoration.  Somehow, staring at Lucifer’s large cock was less daunting than facing his reverence.

Hoping to silence the man, Alastor reached out with one long-fingered hand and took hold of Lucifer’s prick.  He remembered his own cock well enough to know that a light touch was preferable.  The hot flesh jumped against his palm and Alastor immediately catalogued the feel of it…silky, hot flesh twitching in his hand with the first traces of Lucifer’s pre slicking the way.  Above him, the king shuddered and exhaled gustily.

“Fuck…” Lucifer hissed above him, “Just like that, habibi…”

Alastor raised an eyebrow and stroked an experimental thumb over the cock in his hand, “Lucifer, I’ve barely done anything.”

“This is the first time you’ve been the one to initiate.  You have no idea how special this is.”

Was that true? Alastor supposed it was.  The last two times they’d had sex, it had been Lucifer’s idea and he’d simply acquiesced.  He’d had a good time of course, but he hadn’t been the one to express interest.  Lucifer was this affected by his willingness? Hm.

Stroking slowly up the shaft and back down, Alastor murmured, “I am sorry.  I’m sure you’d rather consummate our relationship far more frequently than we do.”

Lucifer groaned and dug his thumbs into the muscle next to his lover’s ears, “Al…”

“I can’t apologize for the way that I am.  I’m not often moved to lust.  That isn’t to say I’m opposed to it on the occasions that you’ve asked, of course.  It simply doesn’t occur to me the way it does to others,” Alastor said quietly.

“Alastor, are you seriously giving me a treatise on your particular brand of asexuality while you’re stroking my cock?” The king asked incredulously (if a little strangled).

Alastor paused, “...That does seem rather contradictory doesn’t it?”

Laughing breathlessly, Lucifer leaned down to awkwardly kiss the crown of Alastor’s head between his antlers, “Al, everything about you is contradictory and I’m addicted to you anyway.  Is this really going to stop you?”

Addicted.

The stag rewarded that sentiment by offering his partner another stroke, lingering around the head when he noticed the way Lucifer choked at the feeling.  This was the only time Lucifer was permitted to be weak…when he was made so by Alastor’s hand.  The power between them was a closed circuit - it could only ever be borrowed or loaned, but never taken and certainly never granted to another outside of their unique partnership.

Alastor considered the cock in his fist and rubbed his thumb widdershins over the head, somewhat fascinated to see a single bead of precum gathering at the slit.  Driven by curiosity, the Sinner leaned forward and darted his tongue over the pearl of cum, smearing it over his taste buds and listening as Lucifer choked out an ungentlemanly curse.

The taste of salt and musk bloomed across Alastor’s tongue and he drew back at the slightly sour flavour, blinking in surprise.

He heard a snort up above him and looked up through narrowed eyes to see Lucifer covering his mouth with one hand, clearly grinning in amusement behind it while the corners of his eyes crinkled.

“Is something amusing ?” Alastor huffed, feeling very much like he was being laughed at.

Lucifer shook his head and cupped his chin fondly, “No, habibi.  Sometimes you’re just very cute for a cannibal.”

“A cannibal, I will remind you, who is about to have something quite precious to you in his mouth,” the Radio Demon sniffed back.

“Message received,” the King said dutifully, but didn’t remove his hand from Alastor’s chin, stroking his cheek with a thumb, “Carry on.”

Alastor hummed and leaned forward again, experimenting with pressing his lips to the slick head of Lucifer’s cock, pursing them and letting the slit rest there.  It felt a little bit absurd to be sitting there bestowing kisses on his king’s cock, but it seemed an easy way to start without embarrassing himself utterly.  At least Lucifer seemed to like it, his hand flexing along the proud line of Alastor’s jaw.

He pressed another kiss to the head, flicking his tongue out to test more of his lover’s flavour, and found it less surprising this time.  Forewarned, forearmed, and all that.  Alastor began to press a line of similar kisses down the shaft, sampling the different textures on the sensitive skin of his lips as he discovered the vein that ran down the length.  He was pleased to note that there didn’t seem to be any unpleasant scent as he nuzzled in against Lucifer’s pelvis…no stink of sweaty skin.

It really didn’t seem so bad, so Alastor carefully stuck his tongue out and proceeded to lick a long stripe up from root back to tip.

Lucifer swore colourfully above him and the hand on his jaw spasmed, so he supposed that was alright.

Alastor offered another kitten lick to the head and felt emboldened by his lover’s effusive reactions…emboldened enough to leap the final hurdle and tentatively take the head into his mouth.  Lucifer’s hand tightened in his hair reflexively and it took a force of will not to tighten his own jaw at the feeling.  Cannibal though he may be, this was meant to be a reward for Lucifer and depriving the Devil of his cock didn’t seem like much of a bounty in the end.

The hand in his hair didn’t hurt, to be fair.  Quite the contrary, as a matter of fact.  Or rather…it did hurt by the purest definition of the word, but it wasn’t the sort of pain he felt the need to shy from.  Alastor hadn’t expected the sudden rush of sensation to his scalp to feel quite as good as it did when all was said and done.  There was something about it that had him instinctively relaxing into the hold, gentling into the control with a cock in his mouth.  Goodness gracious, what had he become?

Pain had never really daunted Alastor if he was being perfectly honest with himself.  His first time with the King of Hell had been punctuated with quite a bit of it if the bruises, bite marks, and blood had been any indicator.  Something about the overflow of pure feeling calmed the raging monster that lived in his core, his brain (or whatever substituted for one in a Hellish body) flooded with endorphins and other chemicals meant to combat agony.  Whenever Alastor found himself in Lucifer’s hands, they worked overtime, flooding him from head to hoof and making his skin buzz.

Alastor sunk into the feeling, almost forgetting for a moment that he had a rather hard dick prodding insistently at the roof of his mouth.

The hand on his jaw stroked him affectionately, “You still with me, Al?”

The Radio Demon made an inquisitive noise and tilted his head ever so slightly, peering at his King through half-lidded eyes.  It simply felt rather difficult to focus in the moment.

Lucifer was smiling down at him with a sort of aching tenderness, “You blissed out fast, habibi, and not even I’m proud enough to assume it’s because you got my dick in your mouth.  You like the pain don’t you?”

Alastor blinked owlishly at him.

“Do you want me to do it again?” Lucifer asked as if answering a question was within the Radio Demon’s capacity currently.

There was a soft tug at his hair again and another wash of sensation shivered down his spine.

“Enthusiastic consent, Alastor.  Tell you what…if you want me to keep going, stay right where you are.  If you don’t like it, pull back and I’ll stop.  You’re totally in control.”

How was Alastor meant to stop when his thoughts were made of butter left too long on the counter in the height of a Louisiana summer and Lucifer was offering him control?  

He stayed right where he was.

Lucifer’s eyes glinted with pride and he tightened his hand in the hair behind Alastor’s ears giving him another tug.  It was delicious.  The Devil had a firm grip on his hair, evenly distributing the pressure rather than ripping unpleasantly at his roots.  Alastor’s eyes fluttered closed and he gave a gentle suck to the head of the cock in his mouth, more out of general fascination than a drive to get his partner off.

The King didn’t seem to mind, using his careful hold on Alastor’s jaw and hair to guide him further down.  He was tender and slow, minding Alastor’s every reaction (while also aware of his apparent lack of a gag reflex, as they had discovered on their first night together).  All too soon, the Radio Demon’s nose was nestled up against the smooth skin of Lucifer’s pelvis and he nuzzled into the velvety softness of it, his mind still elsewhere.  Lucifer’s cock rested on his tongue, warm and oddly engrossing.

So the Sinner drifted and rather forgot what he was meant to be doing as the rhythmic pain radiating down from his scalp dulled his senses.  For once, his lover wasn’t speaking, leaving him free to focus on the sensations slithering down his neck and on the heat and weight of the manhood in his mouth.  Occasionally he would suckle on it very softly, his normally keen mind operating on autopilot while Lucifer’s hand slid from his jaw to cup the back of his neck.

He felt held in a way he couldn’t truly explain.

He didn’t try to.

Instead Alastor became a creature of tactile perception in the darkness behind his lids as Lucifer alternated between pulling his hair and raking claws behind his ears.  Gooseflesh raced down his neck to his shoulders, but otherwise he felt languid in a way he rarely allowed himself.  Time ceased to have meaning in Lucifer’s hands, reclined in his comfortable seat.  The stress from earlier in the day was entirely gone.  Alastor was sure he was a little wet between his legs, but nothing about his current state felt urgent.

Nothing was urgent.  Alastor was safe.

Alastor had no concept of how long he’d drifted in his partner’s skilled grasp until those aforementioned hands were gently cupping his cheeks and a voice was speaking down to him from the morass between his ears, “Habibi…Come on, Habibi.  There you are, darling.  Look at you, so sweet…”

The Sinner blinked his fathomless ruby eyes open and let himself be guided off of Lucifer’s now flaccid cock, not entirely sure what was happening, “Hmm?”

Lucifer smiled at him like the sun coming through the clouds, “Come on, dear.  Let’s get you to the bed before you strain your neck.”

Snatches of higher thought filtered back in through the haze in Alastor’s mind even though his silver tongue felt thick in his mouth, “Oh.  Oh, but I don’t recall you climaxing…”

The King shook his head and, in a feat of easy strength, leaned down to pick his pregnant partner up from the chair in a bridal carry, “I didn’t need to.  You looked so peaceful.  It was enough for me.”

Alastor’s brows furrowed and Lucifer chuckled, settling him amongst his nest of pillows on their bed and making sure his head was arranged on his favourite one, “I’ve never seen you that relaxed, Al.  You had a hard day, and that’s not me thinking you’re weak.  If I’d been in your position, I’d have probably played it less cool than you.”

There was something loaded to his tone, but Alastor’s head wasn’t together enough again to pursue it, “What happened to me?”

He didn’t like that he’d lost himself that easily.

His King clicked his fingers and Alastor found himself in the most comfortable pajamas he owned, the fabric settling soft and familiar against his skin, “If I had to guess? You really liked being hurt in a controlled environment and you trusted me to stop if you told me to.  You just…let go.  I think they call it ‘subspace’ these days.”

“I am…unsure if I like it,” Alastor said honestly, watching as Lucifer clicked himself into his pajamas as well.

“No?” The Devil asked with honest curiosity.  He wanted to know.

Lucifer slid beneath the covers behind him, draping himself over his lover and cupping his pregnant belly, giving Alastor time to think.

At last he sighed, “I dislike the notion that this is a state I can be pushed to by something so simple as pain.  You could have done anything to me when I was like that.”

His lover kissed the back of his neck, “Habibi…I’ve seen your scars.  You’ve been hurt enough in the past that if this was something that could just happen to you, you’d know it by now.  It’s not about being hurt…it’s about knowing I won’t hurt you more than you can take and I won’t take advantage of you when you’re drifting.”

“Are you suggesting that I trust you?” Alastor asked and it wasn’t as dismissive as he wanted it to be.

Lucifer considered his answer for a moment before scraping his claws adoringly over the bump where his child was growing, “How about I promise something instead?”

Curious.

“Mm, go on then,” Alastor hummed, his brain slowly piecing itself back together, though not in any particular hurry.

“I promise I won’t ever put you through more than you can handle if it’s in my power…and if you’re vulnerable, I’ll never use that for my own gain.  Sound fair?” Lucifer said, waving a hand and plunging the room into darkness at midday as the curtains closed and the lights lowered.

“And how do I trust you’ll keep that promise?” The Radio Demon asked, his natural suspicion unwilling to let that particular sleeping dog lie.

Lucifer’s hand slipped over where the strange tattoo lay etched over his lover’s womb, “I’m not afraid to make a deal to that effect.  I don’t plan to hurt you in ways you don’t want, habibi, so a deal doesn’t cost me anything.”

Alastor pondered that…really and truly he did.  

As always, the Devil had many, many opportunities to cross his boundaries or do him serious harm.  Alastor was nothing more than a Sinner, and one pregnant with Lucifer’s baby at that.  If the fallen angel so chose, he could put the tightest leash Alastor had ever known around his throat and throw away anything resembling a key.  No one could have fought him…no one would have wanted to.  But instead he’d been doting and attentive, even curtailing punishment when he noticed how deeply affected Alastor had been.

Deciding that a deal was unnecessary but not willing to address his perilous trust so openly, Alastor hummed, “How very odd…that a simple spanking drove me to panic and then today…”

Lucifer followed his lead with ease, shrugging, “Different memories and associations.  It’s not as odd as you think.”

How did he make it all sound so simple ?

Feeling more raw and open than he had in recent memory, Alastor’s mind continued to drift and he let out a heavy sigh, burrowing his cheek into his pillow, “....Thank you for assisting us today…and for not weakening me in their eyes…”

His king kissed the back of his neck, feather light, “I wish I could tuck you away from everything.  I want to keep you hidden here in our rooms where you’ll be safe…but even I know that cut flowers wither with time.  I don’t…I don’t want that for you…and that means I have to trust your judgement out there in a Hell I’ve been separate from.  So I can’t weaken you, not when I’d very much like you to keep existing.  Your choices were sound today.”

To that, Alastor could say nothing.

He simply wrapped his fingers in Lucifer’s free hand, brought them to his lips, and tried to digest the sum total of everything Lucifer had revealed to him since the return from Carmilla’s compound.

~*~

WEEK SEVENTEEN

Alastor stood listlessly at the stove that morning, one hand resting gently over his stomach while he fried up bacon for breakfast.  The scent of cooking meat normally enticed him, but it failed to be at all appetizing today.  It was wrong.  All of the meat he’d been consuming during his pregnancy was perfectly high quality at Lucifer’s insistence, but it simply wasn’t enough .  Alastor was ravenous and he was exhausted, his baby putting new demands on his body every day.

He flipped the bacon over, leaving it to crisp in its own disappointing grease before turning to the pot of creamy grits he was preparing on the other hob.  None of the other residents really enjoyed grits, but they could all go hang for all he cared.  The fat from the cheese, cream, and bacon grease helped him feel a little bit less like a miserable, starved creature in the mornings.  It certainly didn't hurt that the flavour and texture reminded him of his mother and of home, something he'd been privately clinging to more and more lately.

The buttery scent of cathead biscuits baking in the oven settled him while he worked, reaching up for another pan so he could start preparing eggs.  Angel and Husk would show up hungover enough to eat anything, but that hardly meant Alastor had room to fall down on the job.

Of course, his body didn’t seem to get the memo and his hand trembled while pulling the big pan down, the damn thing slipping from his fingers at the last minute.

Alastor’s ears pinned hard to his skull in anticipation of the resonant ‘clang!’ of the pan hitting the ground, but it never came.

When no ear-shattering bang sounded, he looked over to see a particularly tired-looking Angel Dust holding the offending pan in one of his secondary limbs, the primaries cupped to his brow.  At first, Alastor said nothing.  It was incredibly rare to see Angel at this hour of the morning, moreso to see him in the common areas.  

Gently, Angel lowered the cast-iron back to the counter with a bare click, “Y’alright there, Smiles?”

His voice sounded hoarse in a way that indicated to Alastor that he was still in the process of healing from something far more traumatic than a simple night of partying.

Alastor was too tired to muster his usual pep and merely nodded, picking up the pan and moving it over to the hob, “Perfectly alright, Mr. Dust.  Breakfast will be ready shortly.”

The spider shot him a doubtful expression and placed one of his primary hands on the counter, leaning his hip into the tile a safe distance away from Alastor’s worktop, “...Coffee ready at least?”

“Just there,” Alastor gestured absently with a claw, eyeing the bacon and determining that it could wait a touch longer.

He listened as Angel went about pouring himself a cup of pitch black coffee, pulling his massive pink mug close to his chest and letting it rest in his fluff.  This was perhaps the quietest the taller Sinner had ever been in Alastor’s presence (when sheer terror wasn’t a factor), fading into the background of the Radio Demon’s mind while he worked.  It was so easy to get distracted lately…

“Hey,” Angel said and he sounded subdued.

Alastor’s ears twisted to him as he plucked eggs from a basket, cracking a few to scramble in a heavy bowl while seizing a pair of tongs to move the bacon with his free hand.

He didn't reply, not exactly looking for a conversation this morning or perhaps just not able to carry on with one in his state.  But then he found utensils being removed from his hands as a hip bumped him boldly to one side.  Alastor’s immediate response was to turn and snarl, baring all of his sharp teeth in a vicious smile at whoever was interrupting him…only to find it was still just an exceedingly wrung out Angel who wasn't in the mood for taking the damn hint.  The fluffy Sinner was holding his coffee mug in his upper right primary while gently taking over Alastor’s place at the stovetop with his others.

“You’re lookin’ rough, Al.  Pop a squat an’ lemme handle this.”

If Alastor had more energy, he would have been irritated, so he settled instead for shooting a dangerous, narrow-eyed grin at Angel, “If I required someone to burn the food so I would have twice the work later, I would have let Charlotte take over this job months ago.”

Angel didn’t look impressed with his posturing, many hands already working to whisk the eggs quite efficiently while adding a touch of cream in, “Buddy, I grew up Italian.  You think I didn’t learn how to cook along the way? Ain’t gonna ruin nothin’.”

Dexterous fingers reached for the salt well and pepper grinder simultaneously, seasoning the eggs with a practiced air.

Alastor’s hackles were still up over the very idea of being relegated to the sidelines, but it simply didn’t feel worth it to pit himself against the porn star today, not when Angel seemed determined not to listen.  Instead he gathered up the ragged remains of his pride and stepped over to the kettle, setting it to boil so he could have a bit of tea to try and pep up before the others arrived.

Plucking down his preferred (and that was a rather strong word considering Alastor very much resented being relegated to this sad drink little better than a hot liquid salad) box of tea bags and set one into his favourite mug, he tried to deflect, “Well then, my effeminate friend, knock yourself out.  However…it looks like someone already did that for you.”

Angel snorted with a sort of grim humour, “Real nice, Red.  Eh, nothin’ to worry about.  Val has me workin’ on this new ‘size queen’ series and it’s a bit rough.  Nothin’ I can’t handle.”

From the state of Angel’s voice, it sounded like perhaps he hadn’t been entirely capable of handling everything Val had done to him during the night, but that wasn’t Alastor’s business.  Deals were deals and he’d be a hypocrite to intercede on Angel’s.  Not that the porn star was asking him to.  

Angel was pragmatic that way, which was likely why Alastor hadn’t eaten him yet (outside of Charlie’s general disapproval, of course).  He knew just how far to push, just how much to say, and was perfectly well aware of just how breathtakingly fucked his own situation was.  Despite all thoughts to the contrary, Alastor actually found him rather inoffensive as far as company went - he could appreciate a cunning Sinner who was, in fact, clever enough to pretend that he wasn’t.

Silence reigned between the two of them for a time while Alastor waited for his water to boil.

Angel was even decent enough to wait for the whistle to sound, for Alastor to pour out a cup, and to settle at one of the stools arranged around the central kitchen island before asking, “Hey.  The king.  He treatin’ you right?”

A pop of baffled static escaped Alastor’s aural aura and he clicked a claw on his mug, asking a question of his own rather than answering the one laid in front of him, “Why do you ask?”

Angel slid the grits off the stove and put the lid on before he answered, undeterred, “You ain’t lookin’ so good lately s’all.  You look dizzy a lot like you’re spaced the fuck out, you fall asleep in the most random fuckin’ places, an’ I ain’t never seen you drop nothin’ before in my afterlife.  Doesn’t help that you still look fuckin’ sick.”

“Growing an infant, as it happens, is taxing,” Alastor said primly, a half-truth.

It wasn’t a half-truth Angel was prepared to accept though, raising a finger of one of his free hands into the air, “Bullshit.  I seen plenty of pregnant folks up topside.  Big Italian family, remember? None of ‘em looked as rough as you unless somethin’ was real wrong or their men weren’t treatin’ ‘em so good.  So which is it?”

The confusion crystallized into stark annoyance and static transformed into a sharp whine of feedback, “I fail to see why it concerns you.”

The porn star sighed heavily, irritated in his own right, “Maybe ‘cause I’m tryin’ that whole empathy thing out? I dunno, maybe it just freaks me the fuck out to think even an Overlord doesn’t stand a fuckin’ chance down here. Or maybe I just don’t fuckin’ like the idea of someone else gettin’ treated like shit by someone who ain’t s’posed to treat you like shit.”

Alastor’s eyes narrowed, the feedback growing around him as he digested a possible response.  Angel was stubborn and he wasn’t going to leave off if his heels were already dug in on the subject, which was tiresome.  Moreover, if he decided that Alastor wasn’t giving him what he wanted, there was nothing really to stop him from slipping a few choice words into Charlie’s ears, which would make an even bigger mess of things.  Add to that the fact that Alastor would not tolerate being seen as some tragic, battered wife figure - oh, no sir.  His pride might have taken a lick on the chin lately, but that was not something within his capacity to tolerate.

Fine then.

Giving up to sip his tea, Alastor sighed, “His Majesty has been doting to the point of driving me mad, if you must know.  I wouldn’t tolerate being with him if he raised so much as a disrespectful eyebrow in my direction, let alone a hand.”

“Then what’s the problem, Smiles?” Angel pressed, but his voice was more conversational now, just ‘shooting the shit’ as the younger souls said.

Well, in for a penny, in for a pound.

“If you really must know, I am starved for nutrients,” Alastor said simply and sipped his tea, pausing when he heard feet near the kitchen door.  

Angel moved something on the stove with a sharp scraping sound so Alastor couldn’t hear if they passed on, but no one entered and he didn’t detect anything further.  It was more lazy than he ever allowed himself to be, but putting weight back on his aching hooves didn’t sound pleasant at the moment.  He leaned into his shadows and they seemed utterly relaxed, so he settled a hand on his stomach and sighed.

Angel looked over his shoulder, “Whaddaya mean? I’ve seen you eat plenty.”

“Cannibals,” Alastor said, setting his mug down, “seem to be built differently, especially here.  Consider the way our sins all seem to be carved into us when we manifest down here, my good man.  The things that festered inside of us cease to be subtext once we reach the big show, as it were.  Well, it appears that part of that for those of us who engaged in…shall we say…Thyestean pastimes is an insatiable, eternal hunger for the flesh of the sentient.  We are both the punishers and the punished.  We can't escape our need for flesh, and we torment those who have it - which is most of you, by the way.”

Angel, tough little thing that he was, just shrugged, “Yeah, so? I’ve seen you eat folks before.  What’s the problem?”

“I have…abstained since beginning my entanglement with His Majesty.  I didn’t imagine it would prove to be quite the hindrance that it has become, yet here we are.”

“So, you decided to start starvin’ yourself while you’re fuckin’ pregnant.  Genius move,” Angel said flatly, starting to arrange food on serving trays as voices filtered down from above, “You realize how bad you could hurt yourself or the kid pullin’ a stunt like that?”

The Radio Demon huffed, his tea less appealing now than it had been before so he nudged it away with a claw, “Dear Charlie disapproves most vociferously and as I am…involved…with her father - who is a limpet at the best of times - I fear my gustatory indiscretions would be somewhat less discreet than they had been before.  My patience is quite thin these days and I’m afraid I would be rather ungentlemanly to our proprietress if pushed.”

“You oughta tell Short King, y’know.  If he’s the baby daddy, he needs to know what he’s gettin’ wrapped up in, an’ I bet he ain’t gonna be as weirded out as you think.  Not for nothin’, but the guy willingly stuck his dick in crazy, so I think he’s aware y’ain’t gonna be a picnic 24/7.”

“Watch yourself,” Alastor warned, feeling perhaps that this little temporary truce had made the itsy bitsy spider too bold by half.

Angel held up his top hands, taking the hint though grudgingly, “Just sayin’.”

Alastor sniffed loftily, “You will find that I have things perfectly under control and I don’t take a particularly kind view towards meddling.”  

Point made, he watched as Angel shrugged before loading himself up with trays to take out to the dining area of the hotel, leaving Alastor at his lonely little island with tea rapidly growing cold and a gnawing hunger in his guts that drained him day by day.

~*~

Alastor stood carefully from his desk at the end of his work day, cracking his back dramatically and sighing as he closed the roll-top and locked it.  His sitz bones were tingling and his hips were aching after a day poring over paperwork.  He seemed to find himself with enough of it these days that he strongly suspected Charlie was deliberately keeping him off his feet.  It was charming in its own way, but it was hardly preferable.

It wasn’t like it hurt any less.

The Sinner swallowed down a groan as he settled on his hooves, pushing up to walk himself out of his office.  He needed to get himself downstairs and then perhaps he could pull up a stool while he prepared dinner.

When he opened the door, he didn’t expect to see the King of Hell standing there in his full white regalia, fist raised to knock, though he was quite pleased to take it in stride, “Ah, ti zanj.  Good evening.  Am I tardy?”

Alastor knew he wasn’t, but he did the Devil the courtesy of pretending to check his pocket watch anyway.

Lucifer sighed and tucked his cane under his arm, collecting himself, “Oh, no.  I just wanted to catch you before you started dinner.”

“Oh?” Alastor clicked his pocket watch shut and slipped it back into his pocket, the prop no longer necessary.

“Yeah.  I um…I wanted to see if you wanted to go on a date tonight.  We kind of skipped that whole part and I…well, I want to take you out,” the King said, awkward but smiling as he looked down at his partner from his not-so-new-anymore height.

Out? On a date?

Alastor wasn’t typically knocked on the back foot, but if anyone knew how to do it it was Lucifer.

The Radio Demon stared at his lover with a neutral expression, considering the offer through the fog that had taken up residence in his brain of late.  On the one hand, something covetous and possessive in him reveled in the knowledge that Heaven’s first fallen wanted to be seen out and about with him…that he had come to Alastor hat in hand to ask him for a date.  Alastor’s ego stretched and scratched claws down the back of his brain like a contented cat at the very idea of it.

And yet…Alastor’s hand settled over his stomach.

He’d had to forsake his beloved suits rather recently, which wasn’t to say he was any less well dressed than he had been.  It just meant he didn’t cut the figure he used to.  In the last week or so, Alastor had transitioned to trousers with, ugh, an elastic waistband, and his sleek button-downs had been traded out for soft scarlet turtlenecks that were much more forgiving around his growing stomach.  His beloved overcoat had been swapped for a draping cardigan several shades darker than his shirt, which left him covered but he looked more cozy than imposing lately.  He was stylish as ever, but hardly himself .

The Overlords of the Pentagram already knew he was with child, so there wasn’t much use hiding, but…

Lucifer’s powerful obsidian claws caught Alastor under the chin and gently drew his attention back into the room, “...It’s private, if that helps.  Somewhere you’ll be comfortable.”

Well, that was interesting.

“Hmmm, why go out at all then?” Alastor asked, curious as ever.

“I kind of keep you hidden in the room a lot,” Lucifer admitted, having the grace to look chagrined, “We spend time together, but I don’t really…we haven’t gone out.  It doesn’t feel fair, I guess.  You were a social guy before this and I thought maybe you’d appreciate a bit more of that…the socializing.”

Alastor squinted at his lover, “I do believe you said this would be private?”

Lucifer smiled sweetly at him, “Do you think you can trust me long enough to find out?”

To be fair, the last two times Lucifer could have well and truly hurt the mother of his second child, he hadn’t taken the opportunity.  A little trust could be afforded and honestly, it might be quite nice to break the damnable drudgery of work, kitchen, bed ad infinitum.

“Very well then, my dear!” Alastor trilled with more energy than he felt he genuinely had, “Dazzle me.”

The smile that Lucifer flashed him was positively glowing as he held out a crooked arm to escort Alastor.  With his free one, he waved with all the grandiosity of a true showman, opening a portal for quick transport.  

Appreciating the gesture that would not require him to stroll through the Pentagram on his aching hooves, Alastor graciously deigned to take Lucifer’s arm.  Looking proud as a peacock with Alastor on his arm and smiling like, well, the Devil himself, the king was only too pleased to sweep them through the radiant, pulsing rift in reality.  

For a bare moment, the world was nothing more than a lustrous miasma of crimson and royal gold before Lucifer ferried them both safely to the other side and Alastor felt his hooves sinking into plush carpet.  The Radio Demon banished spots from his eyes and discovered that they’d stepped out of the hotel and into a rather familiar parlor that he had whiled away many an hour in.  The carpet beneath his feet was of a faux-Persian persuasion that had been popular in the early 1900s in America.  The thick curtains over the tall windows surrounding him were rich damask and the furniture (the pieces that weren’t made of bone of course) was carved from dark, heavy wood.

The divans and chairs around him were beautifully appointed with maroon upholstery that Alastor recognized in a twinkling.

Rosie’s.

Lucifer had brought them right to Rosie’s Emporium.

Alastor looked sharply at Lucifer who seemed incredibly pleased with himself.  He winked at the stag and leaned down to kiss him gently on the brow, “I promised it would be private.”

“How in hell?” Alastor protested, too taken aback to rebuff the gentle touch.

The King escorted him to a seat at Rosie’s reception table by the windows, politely pulling out Alastor’s chair and guiding him to sit, “I remembered her from that whole circus at your meeting.  You were friendly with her and I definitely haven't forgotten how she bailed Charlie out during the last extermination.  I might have made it worth her while to loan us her parlor and her personal kitchen for the evening.”

Alastor allowed himself be be seated and watched his lover with sharp interest, wishing his head weren’t so damned foggy .  He wished he had some soul of his usual wit to taunt his king, but the most he could muster was a slightly muzzy question.

“Gracious, what prompted this little outing, hm?” He aimed for cavalier and fell somewhere slightly south.

“A few things,” Lucifer said simply, removing his hat and placing it on the rack where it belonged, “The first is the one I already told you.  We kind of jumped the line with this whole courtship thing.  We didn’t get to do much of the whole…romance portion of the program, and well…maybe it’s selfish but I like romance.  I like you.  So…maybe I wanted to romance you a bit.”

The king flicked his fingers and Rosie’s antique radio (a gift from Alastor) flared to life from a side table, playing Glenn Miller at a low, soothing volume, “I thought maybe you’d like a quiet dinner date in Cannibal Town instead of cooking for the hotel or being trapped in my rooms again.”

Alastor was, quite against his will, a little bit charmed by the consideration.  He cleared his throat behind one fist and hummed, “Well, this is certainly a gesture, Luci dear.”

Lucifer smiled fondly as if he could sense the sentiment that lay beneath the calculated neutrality of the statement.

“Prickly,” the Devil teased without any heat.

“I invite you to grow another creature inside of your body for four months and then test your capacity for overflowing enthusiasm,” Alastor replied snidely, trying for some of their usual repartee.

“Yeah, about that,” Lucifer said, reaching across the table to take one of Alastor’s hands, stroking a thumb over his knuckles, “I also wanted to get you out of the hotel to discuss something.”

Alastor frowned faintly above his perpetual smile.  What on earth was that meant to mean? 

“Look, why don’t we talk over dinner? I promise it’s not anything to worry about and I didn’t bring you out here just to ambush you with anything,” Lucifer said softly, waving his free hand to summon lit candles and covered dishes to the table where they sat, “I really mean for this to be a pleasant night.  I’m just…trying to fix some things I think I’ve overlooked.”

“...You may recall,” Alastor said carefully, ears twitching, “That I am not ‘a fan’ of surprises I don’t have the pleasure of orchestrating.”

“Trust me, I know,” Lucifer chuckled, “but you’ll like this one.”

Alastor considered the cloche over the plate in front of him.  He reminded himself that Lucifer had yet to damage him - he'd hurt him, certainly, but not in ways he couldn’t recover from mentally or physically.  Lucifer had been a model partner by all accounts…or at least what Alastor assumed a model partner was meant to be.  Occasionally that made the Radio Demon uneasy.  It was so much more difficult to rest easy when there was something he actually didn’t want to lose, and the regard of Lucifer Morningstar was rapidly becoming a ‘something’ Alastor didn’t relish finding himself without.

Still, Lucifer looked so proud of himself and whatever was under the cloche smelled divine…

Lifting the silver cover, the scent grew and Alastor nearly moaned at the richness of the aroma that wafted toward him.  It was earthy and fatty and so deliciously vital that the Sinner had to put a hand over his mouth lest he drool at the table with his lover watching.  When he looked down, he was treated to the sight of a perfectly pan-seared liver arranged artfully on a plate with caramelized onions of the most delicate golden-brown in hue.  The onions were really there as a formality, however, and the centerpiece of the meal was that glistening, flawless piece of expertly prepared offal.

It was glorious and it took all of Alastor’s self-control to avoid just tearing into that beautiful organ laid out like a feast before him.

That didn’t belong to any low beast.

Stunned, Alastor turned fathomless crimson eyes back up to Lucifer and breathed, “This is…”

Lucifer smiled at him, beatific and so tender, “Mine.  Alastor, we’ve been so worried about your weight.  You should have told me.”

Alastor stared, breath stolen from his chest.  Lucifer’s? This singular organ was Lucifer’s ?

The fallen angel flushed light gold, still smiling, “I asked your friend for help harvesting it.  Don’t worry, I paid her fairly - donated a pint or two of blood for her personal use.  I didn’t want to stiff her after everything she’s done for you recently.  I ah…I’m not super comfortable with you eating other people and I know Charlie isn't either, but maybe we can compromise.  I regenerate fast and a little bit of cannibalism really isn’t enough to hurt me…or even a lot, let’s be fair.”

Alastor didn’t know what to say.

He didn’t know what to say .

Absolutely floored, all he could do was remember the sound of feet outside of the kitchen door that morning and murmur, “...You were eavesdropping.”

“Guilty.  I’m an angel, habibi, but not a good one.”

His king had given him an offering of flesh and Alastor would be a fool to refuse the gift of angelic sustenance.  Keeping his hands still and controlled, the Radio Demon reached for his napkin and spread it smoothly over his lap, drawing out the ritual of consuming this piece of his lover and giving it the respect it was due.  He reached for his cutlery next, holding them precisely as he made the first cut into that butter-soft piece of Lucifer Morningstar.  If his fingers shook ever so slightly, who would blame him?

His Sinner body screamed for the food it had been longing for, but he made himself be patient, cutting a small piece and pulling the selection through the rich jus coating the bottom of the plate.  The bite was moist and gorgeous, the surface lovingly striated by a carefully controlled Maillard reaction that demonstrated competence and care during the cooking process.  Alastor lifted the morsel to his mouth with reverence and tucked it between his lips like a man receiving communion.

The effect was immediate.

The complex, heady flavour bloomed over Alastor’s tongue like a revelation and he had to remove the fork from his mouth lest he run the risk of biting clean through it.  Pleasure ripped through his body and his senses sang as he consumed his first bite of one of the first beings in creation, freely given.  Relief like cool water rushed over him and he moved to cut the next bite, forcing himself not to rush as he brought it up to his mouth and chewed slowly.  Every morsel was a new firework against his palate.

Across from him, he was vaguely aware of Lucifer cutting into his own meal to give Alastor some privacy to feed himself in peace.  

The luscious richness of Lucifer’s flesh rushed directly to the Sinner’s head and filled him with a satisfying warmth he had been missing.  Alastor would be embarrassed by his behaviour later, but at the moment he couldn’t spare a single thought towards appropriate dinner conversation.  His craving for more of that delicious meal was too strong.  He clung to his table manners by the skin of his teeth, cutting modest pieces of his lover’s body and eating them slowly.  Every single bite felt like a vice he hadn’t even known was there was slowly easing its grip around his ribs.

Alastor didn’t realize how deep into the relief from his self-imposed starvation he’d sunk until Lucifer was reaching across the table to swipe a thumb under his eye, clearing away moisture.

Lucifer didn’t say a word about the humiliating display, just smiled and then went back to his own meal.

The Radio Demon felt like a raw nerve and the taste of the fallen angel’s liver was better than the finest Novocain flooding through him and soothing his frayed edges.  It was the closest to himself he’d felt in months and he didn’t stop eating until there was nothing left to consume.  The skin around his stomach felt less tight, his shoulders loose, and his head blessedly clear for the first time in weeks.

Hands more steady than they had been, Alastor laid his cutlery aside and lifted the napkin from his lap to dab at his eyes with a perfunctory air.  He laid the piece of fine cloth down on his plate before finally finding his voice again.

“...Thank you.”

Lucifer laid aside his cutlery as well and tilted his head, “...Your eyes are brighter.”

“I’d imagine they would be,” Alastor said with forced dismissiveness.

“Let’s keep a better eye on this from now on, okay? I’d rather you not let yourself go that long without something you need if we can help it,” the blonde Devil said and cleared their plates away with a wave, utterly unbothered by his lover’s attempt to deflect the gravity of the moment between them.

He made a point not to lecture Alastor for hiding his malnutrition, wise enough to his lover’s ways by now to know it would only drive him to be contrary for the sake of it.

Alastor collected himself, steepling his fingers in front of his mouth and observing his king through the haze of a candle flame…as if somehow looking directly into the flame was easier than looking at Lucifer’s brightness head-on.

“Surely you don’t intend to carve out pieces of yourself whenever my nature rears its head,” the Radio Demon said at last with a sort of reluctance to his voice.

There was no way Lucifer would allow this more than once and it would be wise not to expect such kindness in the future.  If Alastor got used to this sort of comfort, then it would only hurt worse when the literal heavenly being across from him came to his senses.  He was already becoming spoiled from the assured safety every night while he slept, so he needed to exercise caution when it came to any future liberties he might or might not be granted through his association with his king.

Lucifer gestured vaguely down to Alastor’s stomach, “Haven’t you been doing that for the last four months?”

“That’s hardly the same,” Alastor scoffed.

“You’re right,” his lover said, rising from his seat and strolling over to stand in front of the Sinner, “With a skilled butcher? Removing my liver took next to no time and I was healed up as soon as I willed it so.  You’ve been making room in your body for months and you’ve got five more to go.  Making sure you have a good meal every so often is the least I can do.”

“You are ridiculous,” the stag huffed, looking away.

Lucifer gently guided his face back and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, uncaring of the taste of his own blood and viscera lingering there, “So you’ve said.  Care to dance with me anyway?”

“What, no dessert?” The Radio Demon murmured against Lucifer’s mouth, this deflection far, far softer than the others that had come before it.

“I have a Sanguinaccio Dolce resting in Rosie’s kitchen for both of you later.  I did promise you’d get to do a bit of socializing tonight and it was part of my payment for invading your friend’s parlor,” Lucifer said, “I’d just like a bit of dancing before I leave you two to it.”

Alastor’s ears perked up at the mention of the blood-laced chocolate delicacy and, based on what his king had already done for him tonight, he had every idea that the sanguine portion of the treat wouldn’t be anything porcine.  It felt foolish to the Sinner to offer so much of oneself for something so trivial as a date.  Lucifer had literally carved himself open and bled himself just to feed Alastor (and as a thank you gift to Rosie).  Alastor couldn’t recall a time when he had ever done so much for another soul and he warned himself once more against growing too attached to this.

Lucifer was just in a honeymoon phase now.  He was nesting , paternal instincts on overdrive with a new baby on the way.  He’d cool in time and Alastor simply couldn’t afford not to be ready for that when the time came.  Oh, he was sure he’d have some measure of protection as the mother of the child, but it couldn’t be like this forever.

Still, it would be churlish to refuse the one real request Lucifer had made tonight after all the trouble he’d gone through.  Besides, Alastor felt newly reinvigorated after his dinner and dancing did sound nice.  He hadn’t danced in so long…

Making up his mind, Alastor tipped his head at the radio and listened as the song rolled over into the dulcet crooning of The Platters.  They were past his time, yes, but certainly a group worthy of his attention.  He could make room for some modernization when appropriate, after all.

As Tony Williams’ soulful tenor extolled the follies of falling in love, Alastor allowed Lucifer to guide him up out of his seat and into the spare open space between the table and Rosie’s couch.  The Devil slipped a hand to rest on the arch of his lover’s hip bone, taking his hand with the other and leading him into a slow, simple waltz.  Alastor allowed it, allowed the way their bodies pressed together under the low light of the private parlor.  He was sure they cut quite a picture with the swell of his belly coming between them, but there was no one here to see but them.

As it was, Alastor felt too good to complain about much of anything.

For once, the terrible hunger inside of him was finally satiated and there was no telling how long it would remain so since it had been fed with the flesh of one of the first angels.  His head felt clear and his thoughts were sharp again.  Alastor didn’t feel like a husk of himself and staying on his hooves wasn’t the trial it had become over the last few months.  He felt downright bright and bushy-tailed, actually.

It beat the pants off of standing bleary-eyed and beaten down over the stove yet again, and the way Lucifer was looking down at him…

Alastor opened his mouth to say something smart when a sharp swoop of motion in his stomach stopped him dead.  He stared wide-eyed at nothing and Lucifer paused abruptly, his golden serpent’s eyes going wide.

“Was that…?” He asked stupidly.

Alastor slid a hand between them to cup his stomach, grunting softly when it happened again, “The baby kicked.”

They hadn’t done that yet.

It was right around the time the child was meant to start moving inside of him, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise.  It really shouldn’t have.  His physician had already discussed the whole ‘quickening’ nonsense to him and it had seemed logical at the time.  Of course a living being would start moving at some point.  Perhaps the extra nutrition from Lucifer’s flesh had kick-started something.

But that was just it.  This was proof that what was inside him was living .  This went beyond the simple logical understanding of could, and would, and will.  It was proof that the infant inside of him was just as real as he was and it was waking up in his womb.  The life nestled in the cradle of his flesh wasn’t a concept of a future baby anymore.  Had Alastor’s mother experienced this as he was now? This feeling of the whole world narrowing down to that flutter of potential inside of him?  He felt humbled.  He felt untouchable .

Alastor had attained a power that God himself lay claim to.  He had created life .  And there before him, right in the middle of Rosie's very lovingly turned-out parlor, Lucifer Morningstar fell to his knees in an act of obeisance to their child and to alastor himself.

When Rosie ambled up the stairs about an hour later with the promised dessert and a tea service, she found Alastor sitting on the couch with the King of Hell stretched out across him, one cheek pressed to where their child was intermittently testing the boundaries of its current home.  Feeling merciful, neither cannibal had seen fit to banish the Devil and they proceeded to spend the rest of the evening catching up while Lucifer dozed and fawned in equal measures.  They talked about everything and nothing the same as they had in the old days.  They gossiped and bitched and generally conducted themselves like a pair of catty old aunts.  They discussed the baby and Lucifer (which the man was really a very good sport about).  They reported on territory disputes and about plans for future Overlord Meetings (which Lucifer was less pleased with, but continued to be a good sport about by keeping his mouth shut).  

Alastor only wished in the strictly practical part of his brain that had done quite a good job of keeping him alive up to this point that it could last.

Chapter Text

WEEK TWENTY

One thing Alastor hadn’t anticipated would accompany his pregnancy was the precipitous rise in his nearly non-existent libido.

When he had still been severely malnourished thanks to his rather mad decision to suppress his cannibalistic nature, his body had more or less behaved.  He hadn’t imagined that all of his reserve energy was simply going towards keeping his Sinner body at a baseline that could nurture and support his growing baby.  How could he have anticipated that this would be an outcome of recovering his health now that Lucifer was happily seeing to his needs?

No one had ever warned him, not even his assigned Baphomet nurses.  What was the damned point of them?!

Alastor was horny.

In the crimson haze of hellish pre-dawn still, Alastor was lying there in the ostentatiously large bed he shared with Lucifer, the man pressed to his back like a baby chimp.  Contrary to popular belief, the Devil did indeed sleep and he was a clingy bastard when he did so - one hand wrapped around Alastor’s lean shoulder while the other cupped his pregnant belly.  It would be quite sweet, the Sinner supposed, if his traitorous body didn’t feel a ‘way’ about it.

At his back, Lucifer (the sire of his growing child his primal hindbrain reminded him) was warm and tall, his powerful muscles lax in sleep.  He was impressive in this form, and he was this way because Alastor preferred it.  There was power in that and the Sinner was incredibly aware of that fact when the literal King of Hell was cozied up to his spine.

Lazily, Lucifer shifted in his sleep and the hand that had been wrapped around Alastor’s shoulder slipped down to his teacup-tiny breast, just holding.

The tender flesh between Alastor’s legs crudely informed him that he did not, in fact, hate the feel of that large, porcelain smooth hand fondling him in the privacy of their room.  Damn it all.

Normally on the rare occasions Alastor felt the creeping tendrils of arousal, he would simply ignore it until it went away on its own.  However, as the minutes stretched on in the peaceful quiet of their bed, it didn’t seem to be in any hurry to be on its way this morning.  No, his libido informed him insistently, it was quite comfortable right where it was nesting between his thighs.

Double damn it.

He sighed and squirmed in his partner’s arms, gauging how much give there was in that lazy grip.  Perhaps if he could just get free it would be possible to excuse himself to the lavatory so he could see to himself in privacy.  Unfortunately, the minute he budged even an inch, Lucifer’s grip tightened, drawing him close and squeezing his breast.  Alastor’s tail wagged against his will.

How very unfortunate.

Sighing, Alastor reached up to tap the hand that was currently cradling his breast like a soft toy, “Dear.”

Lucifer grumbled sleepily and burrowed his nose into the crook of Alastor’s neck.

Alastor’s ears airplaned out and he rolled his eyes, “Lucifer.”

There was a puff of air against his nape and then there were velvety soft lips moving against the thin skin there, “Hm? Wh’issit?”

Ladies and gentlemen, the Morning Star.

“I need to get up.”

“Mmmm, but you’re warm.  Smell nice,” the king whinged softly, pressing a line of butterfly kisses down the back of his lover’s neck.

Flattering, but so utterly unhelpful.

“Be that as it may, dear, I really must insist.”

If possible, the king’s grip on him only tightened, a thumb stimming repetitively over the flesh of his breast, “Habibi…stay with me…”

Alastor sighed and gently pressed a hand between his own legs to try and stifle the growing need blooming there.  Goodness, but the space between his thighs felt like a furnace.  The Sinner’s nose wrinkled when he felt how damp his pajama pants already were.  These would certainly have to be buried at the bottom of the laundry basket as soon as he was able to get up…

…Which didn’t seem like it was happening anytime soon.

“Lucifer…” he hedged.

He felt more than heard the baffled noise against his neck before Lucifer spoke again, voice thick and hoarse from sleep, “Are you okay, Al?”

The Radio Demon sighed and pulled his hand away from his crotch when the feeling between his legs failed to dissipate as he’d hoped, “...I find myself in a state and I would like to go take care of it in privacy, if you don’t mind.”

Something about that seemed to get through to Lucifer and he felt the king shift behind him, only releasing his grip enough to roll Alastor gently so they were facing one another, “Habibi?”

“If you would release me momentarily, I need to go and see to myself in the restroom,” Alastor said very slowly as if he were speaking to a particularly dense child.

Lucifer’s arms slackened around him and the Sinner heaved a sigh of relief, thoroughly believing that he was going to be let go.  Good.  He would only need a few minutes to take care of this and then surely - 

But instead of being let up to go and take care of his rather embarrassing spike of morning libido, the Radio Demon found himself turned within his lover’s arms.  He let out an annoyed grunt and stared up into glowing gold eyes with a narrow-eyed expression of perturbation that only an idiot would dare ignore.  Unluckily for him, the King of Hell was just such an idiot and instead held Alastor close to his chest, stroking his mussed scarlet hair.

“Why do you need to leave for that? I won’t be mad if you need to touch yourself,” Lucifer said, his gaze sleep-muddled and painfully open.

Alastor scoffed, “It’s hardly appropriate.”

Lucifer let out a puff of a laugh that smelled of fresh brimstone the way it usually did first thing in the morning, “Al…we’ve been together for four months and we’ve been filthy with each other.  If you’re aroused and don’t wanna have sex, it’s okay to touch yourself.”

Well, Lucifer wasn’t technically wrong , but…

The whole concept felt ‘wrong’ in Alastor’s head.

Yes, he’d been thoroughly initiated to sex at this point thanks to Lucifer’s almost slavish addiction to his attentions.  However, in every encounter Alastor had been receptive to his partner’s desires.  He enjoyed it, certainly, but it felt easier to let Lucifer take the reins and decide the general ‘schedule of events’ as it were.  Taking charge of his own pleasure felt different in some way Alastor couldn’t quite name.  Even when he’d ridden Lucifer, his king had taken a hand in it.

Touching himself without Lucifer involved at all, though? While he watched ?

He must have been making a face because Lucifer leaned to buff soft lips across his forehead, “Tell me what you’re thinking, Habibi.”

“I’m unsure how I feel about…stimulating myself…while you’re simply an observer,” Alastor admitted far more readily than he would have done four months ago.

A fond smile creased Lucifer’s face (and the Sinner refused to find it charming when paired with the pillow-lines still pressed into his cheek) and he skated a hand over the swell of Alastor’s stomach between them, “Would it feel better if I helped?”

“I don’t particularly want to have sex.  This is just a niggle.  It needn’t be a full production ,” Alastor protested.

“Not sex, baby,” Lucifer corrected, his hand moving in slow circles on whatever part of his lover’s stomach he could reach, “Just…not making you do it yourself if that’s what’s making you feel weird.  I’ll also just let you up if that’s what you really want, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to leave every time you need to take care of things.”

Alastor’s nose wrinkled again as he digested that, “...How would that even work?”

“Do you trust me to show you?”

“Well, this doesn’t feel like it’s going away on its own, so go ahead I suppose,” the Sinner huffed, making a very good show at seeming uninterested in the whole affair.

Luckily, Lucifer didn’t press him and instead nudged his legs open with one knee, speaking softly, “Yeah, sorry Habibi.  Pregnancy hormones are a whole thing.  I promise this will pass.  Here, straddle my knee.”

Giving Lucifer a skeptical look, Alastor spread his legs fully and let the Devil slot the aforementioned knee between them.  He squirmed when Lucifer immediately pressed the meat of his thigh up against his partner’s clothed pussy and ground upwards.  There was a burst of sensation as his clit rubbed up against the fabric of his pajama pants, pressed against his king’s muscular leg.  

Wide hands reached down to hold his hips, not bruising but firm and grounding. 

With a degree of tenderness that Alastor wasn’t sure he had the capacity to defend himself against in this private hour of the morning, Lucifer encouraged him to rock against his knee at an unhurried pace.  

It was slow going at first.

Alastor was torn between two distinct sensations.  At the forefront of his mind was the very real shame that came with rubbing himself off on the king’s leg like a goddamn animal.  Here he was needy and pathetic while Lucifer remained soft against him, the very picture of benevolent control.  It made Alastor’s hips stutter and resist the rhythm he so wanted to give into as the second feeling built up in his core.

As shy as he felt about the whole thing, it was undeniable that it felt good .  Alastor’s ears lay flat against his head as the hesitant frottage began to scratch the itch that had woken him from slumber.  It was just right…not the overwhelming stretch of penetration or direct contact on his poor clit, but a sensuous build of satisfaction.  He shouldn’t like this quite so much as he did, should he? It was demeaning.

Wasn’t it?

A particularly well-aimed thrust gently parted his nether lips and he gasped quietly.

Lucifer let out a soft hum and leaned to purr against the side of his flattened ear, “It’s okay.  It’s okay .  I want you to have what you need, habibi.”

“Nnn…” Alastor protested, but didn’t stop moving.  He could feel Lucifer’s abs rubbing against his tummy through his nightshirt and, God, that shouldn’t have felt good either .

His lover tutted and kissed the downturned appendage, “This is fine, Al.  There’s nothing wrong with this if it feels good to you.  None of the things we do in the bedroom that you like are wrong .”

Lucifer flexed his thigh up and Alastor made a strangled noise, grinding down against him when his control slipped.  What was it about Lucifer’s voice that made him so damned convincing? It wasn’t magic.  Alastor was a skilled enough practitioner in the left-handed arts that he would have smelled it out immediately.  It was something about Lucifer …how very assured his velvet-deep voice was when they were like this.  Gone were the stutters and whimpers of Lilith’s abandoned doll king - the queen’s forsaken canary.

He sounded like the king Alastor had first been lured by nearly half a year ago now.

Alastor brought his hands up to clutch at the Devil’s shoulders and, same as always, Lucifer didn’t voice a single complaint when the Radio Demon’s wicked claws opened his flesh.  He just continued to guide his lover through thrust, after thrust, after thrust in their cozy place beneath the covers.

“I love when you’re like this…soft and willing to trust me.  You’re still you, but…but you let me in,” Lucifer said and he sounded vulnerable.

Of course, only Lucifer would dare call Alastor soft while the Sinner was actively flaying muscle from bone.

“Do you want me to pull your hair?” 

Alastor blinked.

That…that might actually be nice.  

Breathing hard and grinding himself on Lucifer’s thigh, Alastor nodded and in an instant one of the hands loosened itself from his hip to snake into his hair.  The king wrapped his fingers in rowanberry locks and tugged hard enough to be felt, but not hard enough to damage.  That! Yes, that! A waterfall of fizzy endorphins flowed down from nape to tail and Alastor couldn’t contain his soft moan.

“There you are, shay' jamil.  Father, you bring out the worst in me.  Did you know sometimes when we’re together, I feel so possessive over you? I’m the only one who’s ever had you like this,” Lucifer rumbled, tugging at Alastor’s hair again, “You’ve never moaned for another.  You’ve never cum for another.”  

The words turned to comforting static in the quickly-melting space between the Radio Demon’s ears and he arched, clenching his thighs around Lucifer’s.

“Your body never quickened for another…” his lover said, nipping the shell of his ear, pairing it with a sharp pull, “...And Father help me, I hope it never does…”

This was significant.

In some distant part of his brain that wasn’t half awake and soaked in hormones, Alastor knew this one-sided conversation was revealing.  There was a deep reverence to Lucifer’s voice that he only had when he was sharing some part of himself that was for the Sinner alone.  But that quicksilver-clever part of him was buried safely away beneath ever-growing pleasure while he rode his king’s thigh for all he was worth.

Words were hard to parse as Lucifer’s litany continued, broken up by doting kisses and nips, “You fucking terrify me, Al.  You do.  You burn so bright, habibi, but bright candles…they…”

Another firm tug to his hair and Alastor’s eyes fluttered while the words seeped out of his ears like hot butter without ever fully sinking in.  A purely instinctive bleat slipped from between his lips and he huddled as close to Lucifer as he could with his pregnant belly between them.  By now, the motion of his hips was hard and fast, blindly chasing his much-needed end while Lucifer’s dulcet tenor seeped into his consciousness - unctuous as dark honey.

Orgasm lanced through his guts like rolling fire and Alastor’s claws dug in so deep he was sure he could feel the soft scrape of bone against his claws.  Lucifer just hushed him through it, rocking him and nuzzling into his ears while whispering utter nonsense.  The relief was unbelievable and, paired with the floating peace of the pain radiating from his scalp, Alastor slumped into his partner’s arms.  He was distantly aware that he was trembling.

Adoring hands glided over his sweaty, pajama clad body, carefully guiding him through the come-down.

Alastor grunted when a kick thumped through his belly and above him Lucifer cooed faintly, “I think we woke up the baby.”

“Mmm, serves them right,” the Sinner grumbled and adamantly refused to admit even to himself that he slurred.

The little monster inside of Alastor gave a big stretch before settling once again, leaving him to float undisturbed through the afterglow of his much-needed climax.  Above him, Lucifer said nothing more for a time, contentedly petting his back and ears.  It was surprisingly peaceful and none of the half-expected derision never came while he drifted.

Outside, the croaking calls of whatever constituted the dawn chorus in Hell began.

Idly, Alastor pulled his claws from Lucifer’s back and went about licking the golden ichor from his cuticles, savouring the taste without focusing overmuch on it.  When his head was still full of fuzz, nothing much seemed to matter.

After a period of relative serenity, Lucifer murmured, “You should go back to sleep, habibi.”

“I’m quite alright, dear,” Alastor said, eyes closed but sleep still a million years away while he picked a bit of ichor from beneath his claws, “I’m just indulging in a snack.  Then perhaps I’ll get up and begin working on breakfast.”

Lucifer’s hand settled over his stomach, a thumb swiping in slow circles around his navel, “...Let it be late this morning.  I want to stay with you for a little while.”

Alastor swiped his tongue over the tacky ichor doing its best to dry in the creases of his knuckles, “Now, Lucifer…”

“You’ve been so busy the last couple of weeks,” Lucifer forged ahead, “And you’re usually awake and out of the room to start breakfast by the time I wake up.  Can’t we just…enjoy the afterglow for a little while? At least until it’s time to actually start breakfast instead of rushing to do it early, you psychopath.”

“Ahhh, insults.  The truest way to keep me abed.  Do romance me further, Your Majesty,” Alastor quipped with a roll of his eyes, the pleasant fog of ‘subspace’ already fading.

Lucifer rolled his right back, “You like when people think you’re a psychopath.”

“Be that as it may…”

But then Alastor found lips pressed to his own, sweet and slow and close-mouthed.  Lucifer could really be quite manipulative when he wanted to, and what could the Radio Demon do but appreciate a little bit of cut-through negotiation? Giving it up as a bad job for the time being, Alastor flicked a lazy hand at the radio and tuned it low to one of his specially curated stations.  The soothing hum of Sidney Bechet filtered through the air, barely audible over the symphony of early morning car crashes and gunfire from the commuter crowd in the Pentagram.

Pulling back and making himself comfortable against the sculpted planes of the king’s chest, Alastor sniffed, “Oh, very well then, you pathetic thing.  I suppose I can be a slugabed for a little while longer.  However, you’re going to make yourself useful if you intend to keep me trapped here.”

“Dramatic,” his lover grinned, but accepted the half-hearted surrender for what it was, “What do you need?”

So attentive, this man.  It was simply a pity that Alastor still didn’t believe it was destined to last.  However, he was an opportunist to the bone, so he’d reap the rewards while he could still get them.

“We need to begin making arrangements for the baby.  We’re within spitting distance of the halfway point since Queen Belphegor has predicted my pregnancy will follow a typical human gestation period.  As of yet, we’ve made no preparations on a nursery, a cradle, bedding, or clothing for once they’ve arrived,” Alastor said, ticking the points off on his wickedly sharp claws.

Lucifer gave him another one of those little baffled expressions that always promised trouble in some form or another, “Habibi, that’s not an issue.”

“...Our child not having a place of their own, clothes, or a bed isn’t an issue?” Alastor raised one fine eyebrow at his king.

“I mean...Charlie’s nursery is still in good shape and so is her cradle.  I can create clothing, so…” the Devil said, watching Alastor like his lover was a venomous snake winding up to strike if he made one wrong move.

That was likely to do with the look of incredulous offense rapidly spreading across Alastor’s face.

“Charlie’s nursery and cradle are in the palace ,” the Radio Demon said very, very slowly.

“...Yes?”

“My work is here in the hotel ,” the Sinner reminded his lover, a bit of acid creeping into his tone when the man refused to see where the issue was.

Lucifer passed a hand over his face, “...I feel like I fucked up somewhere.”

“Indeed,” Alastor said, cupping under his belly and trying to rise, “I feel as though you’ve made some rather large decisions on my behalf.  Were you always expecting to use Charlie’s old things and just hide my child away in the palace?”

Like an instinct, Lucifer’s hands came out to help Alastor sit up, arranging him comfortably rather than holding him down, “Our child, and no.  I wasn’t going to hide anything.  I figured you’d be there too since…you know…maman and all.  And you’re my partner.”

Alastor’s eyes narrowed sharply and he bared his teeth in a truly unpleasant smile, “I don’t recall agreeing to this.”

“Okay, let’s hold on,” the king said and took a deep breath in through his nose, “I really don’t want to fight, but I know I did something to make you angry.  Can you just tell me exactly what you’re upset about and I promise to listen?”

The unholy tear Alastor had been winding up for suddenly felt flat.  He hadn’t been expecting something so very…direct from Lucifer.  The Sinner stared at the bigger man, rictus smile frozen in place like a confused hyena who didn’t know whether to bite its handler or accept the treat it was being offered.  He wanted to be upset.  He wanted to be offended that the father of his child had just made decisions behind his back.

It was a frightening notion, that things were being arranged for him.

Keeping his nasty grin in place like a shield, Alastor spoke, “Well, let us begin with the fact that you’ve apparently been harboring designs on taking me away from my work to…what? Be your housewife in that damn empty palace?”

Sighing, Lucifer slid in behind him, wrapping arms around his bony shoulders and leaning to kiss the fuzzy line of his undercut, “No.  I just thought it would be convenient to have us all together where there was already a nursery.  What else are you mad about?”

Alastor refused to relax into the soothing heat of his lover’s body, “You’re going to spoil this child into oblivion, Lucifer.  Just making them clothes? Is that what we want them to learn? That work counts for nothing because everything simply appears ?”

“...I didn’t think about it that way,” Lucifer murmured against the skin of his neck.

“Clearly.”

“Okay…well…why does it make you so angry? I want to understand you, habibi, but you have to remember that I’m not…I don’t think in the same patterns you do.  I don’t like making you unhappy like this,” the King of all Hell explained.

Alastor didn’t know what to do when Lucifer was being so damned reasonable about this.  The radio skipped a little while he put his thoughts together.

“...My mother worked every day of my life to ensure I had the things I needed, even when it hurt her.  I saw every drop of sweat, every callused finger, every tired line of her face and I knew the cost of my comfort even when it was meager.  I didn’t take things for granted,” he explained, feeling that it was the only safe route since picking a fight no longer seemed rewarding and anything else felt far too revealing, “But I was surrounded by men who never knew work and never knew the value of everything.  Goods were disposable, food was disposable, and even people were disposable.  Raising a child around an absence of effort is a breeding ground for the soft or tyrannical.”

The Sinner jumped when a sin-stained hand slipped around to intertwine with his own, “Okay…” Lucifer breathed calmly, “So what I’m hearing is you’d like handmade things for the baby and you want to keep them in the Hotel?”

It couldn’t be that easy, could it?

“I would prefer that, yes.”

“Alright, I can work with that,” the Devil shrugged, picking at a bit of leftover ichor on Alastor’s pinkie claw, “I didn’t mean to upset you, by the way.  I just…look.  Creating is just a thing I do.  I don’t see a reason not to.  I’ve been doing it since before mankind began.  And yeah, I was married to a mortal soul before, but she was the first.  She didn’t have a blueprint for any of this either so with you I’m still learning.  I just don’t want you to think I’m trying to…to…betray or undermine you.  This is just how I know how to take care of people.”

The arms around Alastor tightened and Lucifer asked, “Can you tell me why the thought of moving to the palace made you mad?”

What was there really to say to that? 

Alastor pondered the answer he could give and let his hand rest loose in Lucifer’s.  

There was nothing wrong with the palace per se and some part of Alastor preened at the idea that Lucifer instinctively wanted him present.  However, it wasn’t Alastor’s territory and he wasn’t established there.  It was Lilith’s place, the seat of the queen who still held some sway over the Devil Himself.  Alastor loathed being an outsider above all else, and what would he do if Lilith returned someday? How utterly humiliating would it be to have to pack up and return to the hotel with his proverbial tail between his legs?

Not to mention how humiliating it would be for his child to be ousted.  There was no way Alastor would leave them with Lucifer in the event he had to depart, after all.  

But…that was yet another concern - the child.  Here in the hotel, Alastor was dug in like a tick, his magic woven through every inch of the domain right down to the foundations.  He had supporters here.  Should Lucifer decide to end things with him, it would be far harder to part Alastor and his child than it would be in the seat of the king’s power.  No, it was far safer to remain here, but what answer was appropriate to give Lucifer?

Gently, Alastor removed his hand and smoothed it over his stomach, “I simply don’t like decisions being made on my behalf.  Please discuss any future plans you have with me.”

“Noted,” his lover said and nuzzled into his shoulder, “Now…if you’re not too mad at me…please come back to bed?”

“I am still in bed, pet,” the stag said primly.

The slash of a smile he felt against his clothed shoulder was almost rewarding as Lucifer said, “You’re going to drive me crazy one of these days, Al.  Now c’mere.”

~*~

Lucifer sat at his work table later that day, Alastor long since having vacated their rooms to go work in his office or whatever the hell else that fool man was still doing halfway through a demi-divine pregnancy.

Alastor .

The man was singularly infuriating.

He was dishonest to a fault, his inability to tell the whole truth the very reason they were expecting a child together.

He took a perverse pleasure in picking fights and being contrary.  Lucifer was relatively sure Alastor disagreed with him for fun at this point.

He was secretive in stunningly unique ways.  Alastor never seemed to stop talking, but Lucifer had learned long ago that it was a smokescreen - for as much as he ran his mouth, there was very little of substance.  You just didn’t often realize it until he was gone.

Like this morning! 

Lucifer knew for a fact that there was more bothering Alastor than he was letting on.  There was a cagey quality to the demon when he was actually well and truly upset about something - his muscles would go tight and his smile would stretch to even more unnatural proportions.  Sometimes his ears would go perfectly straight as if he were holding them aloft by an extreme force of will rather than letting them pin back.  This morning had been like that, the stag going from beautifully languid to tense in a heartbeat.

Lucifer drummed his claws against his desk.

Despite all that…he truly was fond of the Sinner who had found his way into the Morningstar family.

The Devil was sure it was a mark of how very far he’d fallen that he found a legitimate cannibal and unrepentant murderer like Alastor appealing in any way, but who was really left to judge him these days? For all of the Sinner’s lies, deceptions, and manipulations, he was ridiculously blunt in his own way when it came to Lucifer.  Oh, Alastor would lie about his own intentions and goals until he was blue in the face, but he told Lucifer the things the king needed to hear.

Who could blame him either when Alastor was wickedly clever and unafraid to speak his mind, bold as brass?

Living with the man had been enlightening.

Despite the fact that Lucifer was extremely familiar with Alastor’s body, the fussy buck still insisted on changing behind a screen.  It had appeared in the king’s rooms one day and had never left.  Now it was just a part of his night to lie in bed and watch Alastor’s pregnant shadow through the screen as his lover switched into nightclothes.  Lucifer couldn’t possibly tell you why it charmed him so, but there was something about the nightly ritual that felt cozy. 

As a matter of fact, Alastor was all about ritual - his days perfectly ordered despite the chaos surrounding him.  He rose at a particular time, made breakfast at a certain hour, patrolled the halls at allotted times, and seemed to enter and leave his office at the same hour every day.  He liked his coffee a certain way, he selected his silverware in a specific order…hell, he even folded his newspaper over the exact same way and read it in the exact same order every morning.  For a man as chaotic as Lucifer, the reliability of his routine was grounding.

Alastor was meticulous as well, always thinking multiple steps ahead of literally everyone else, including Lucifer himself.  Much like this morning…

Lucifer sighed and thumped his head back against the backrest of his chair.

He’d been so stupid this morning.  There Alastor had been, pliant and peaceful in his arms, and he’d gone and ruined it by just not thinking things through.  

Just…having Alastor at his side had become so natural .  Lucifer didn’t even think twice about it.

It hadn’t even been a question in his mind that they would use Charlie’s old nursery or that Alastor would accompany him back to the palace.  The Sinner had been his right hand for four months and Lucifer had assumed it would continue to be so.  Maybe that had been a miscalculation on his part.

After all, he and Alastor had only had one brief flirtation before falling into bed together.  

Perhaps that was all the Sinner had wanted? Perhaps he was only with Lucifer now out of a sense of duty and the idea of remaining with him once the child was born wasn’t in his mental calculations? Here Lucifer had been ardently wooing the poor man and he didn’t even know if a future together beyond co-parenting their child was in the cards.

But, no. 

No, that was his damn insecurity talking.

There was more there, Lucifer knew.  My Angel , Alastor called him…ti zanj.  He doubted his lover fully grasped that he could speak and understand every language conceived by man - doubted that Alastor fully grasped that he knew what he was being called in their private moments.  But Lucifer could and Lucifer did .

Whether or not Alastor loved him as ferociously as he did the buck, Lucifer knew what they had wasn’t as one-sided as his damage wanted him to believe.

Alastor cared for him…for this thing they had.

For all of his bristling and bitching, there was a certain genuine, innocent unknowing to Alastor when it came to matters of care that broke the king’s weak heart.  He’d never forget the way the Sinner had nearly come apart in his arms after his failed attempt at discipline, the sounds of paternal hatred radiating in a nauseous feedback loop through the static that followed him.  The unmasked look of shock during the tenderness that came after would be burned in the Devil’s brain for all the days he existed after this.

Lucifer had a profound desire to be there for Alastor, to show him all the ways he could be loved and honored without violence.

Well…that wasn’t to say their relationship was without violence.  Lucifer had gotten quite used to carving parts of himself out for his lover’s consumption.  He didn’t mind that though…the pain was fleeting, the damage negligible, and Alastor never received one of his offerings without reverence.

Wisdom or lack thereof aside, Lucifer loved Alastor.  He loved his persnickety, clever, vicious Sinner and he very much didn’t like that he’d upset him this morning.

So Alastor wanted to raise their baby here, then? So be it.

He had work to do.

Standing from his work desk, Lucifer fished his phone out of his pocket and dialed a number he’d been graciously granted after his last date night with his lover.  He brought it to his ear as he walked towards the door, intent on hunting down his daughter to approve some…changes to the hotel.

It rang once or twice and then…

“Hey, Miss Rosie, right? I was wondering if you could give me some decorating advice and help me track down a few things.”

~*~

Alastor startled from a light doze he’d fallen into over his desk, blinking the sleep from his eyes and trying to put his head back together.  Blast it.

A knock sounded at his door and he realized with sudden clarity that it had been the very sound to wake him and he quickly straightened his clothing, calling out, “Come!”

His office door clicked open to admit none other than the King of Hell and Alastor let his posture relax slightly.  After all, the fool man had seen him far more unkempt than this.  

The fallen angel’s face was soft and warm as he stepped in, politely closing the door behind him to give them some privacy.  He was dressed down today, wandering about in his shirtsleeves with his waistcoat open and his hat nowhere to be seen.  Alastor knew at this point that it meant he’d likely been at his workbench since the king tended to eschew his ‘finery’ when he sat down to create things the old-fashioned way.

“Hello, habibi.  Are you almost done for the day?” Lucifer asked politely.

Alastor looked down at his paperwork and realized he’d dozed off halfway through a form.

Keeping a perfectly straight face, he closed his rolltop and dusted off his trousers to dismiss any invisible dust, “I certainly can be.  Did you need something?”

“Just your time,” the blonde king said and walked over, holding out a hand to help him up like the chivalrous little fool he was sometimes.

Well…not little.  Not anymore.

“Oh?” Alastor inquired, taking Lucifer’s hand and allowing himself to be levered from his seat, “And what can I do for you today, Your Majesty?”

Lucifer shot him a fond smirk and shook his head, “Pack it up with the Your Majesty stuff, Al.  This is a you and me thing.  I was thinking about the talk that we had this morning.”

Oh? 

Well that was certainly interesting.

Alastor humored his king (and his own curiosity) by looping his arm through Lucifer’s and humming, “Were you know?”

Lucifer laid a hand over his on instinct, “Yeah.  I want to apologize again for assuming things.  I really…” he sighed, “I like having you with me, Alastor.  I just figured we’d go back to the palace to use the nursery and I…you…you’re a fixture in my life now.  Enough of one that the thought of you not being with me just…I don’t have it.”

Alastor blinked, stunned at the declaration.  Not that he necessarily should have been, but sometimes it still surprised him how very frank Lucifer could be.

But the king was still talking, “But you’ve literally been going through the hardest part of having a new baby and if you want things a specific way, I want to give that to you.”

“...And so?” Alastor asked neutrally, falling back to a businesslike mask to keep his emotions in check while he was yet unsure of the playing field.

“And so , I had a chat with Charlie today.  She okayed a minor overhaul of the hotel and…well…can I just show you?”

Alastor looked at his lover and the fallen angel was staring at him with guileless eyes full of hope.  This certainly hadn’t been what the Sinner was expecting after their almost-fight this morning.  Honestly, he wasn’t sure what to expect when it came to Lucifer these days.  No one had ever endured so many of his bad moods before save for perhaps Rosie, but not even Alastor was uncouth enough to be surly at her…more in her general direction.

That traitorous part of Alastor’s heart that wondered if the man might be sincere in his affections had only been growing since their dinner date and moments like this only fed the beast.

It was terrifying.

Clearing his throat, the Radio Demon just cocked his head, “Oh, very well.  Shall we go then?”

Lucifer flashed him one of those piranha grins of his and clicked his fingers to open up a portal through which Alastor could vaguely make out an empty room he didn’t recognize.  His ears twitched atop his head, but his king was already in motion, carefully escorting him across his office and into the shimmering ring of effervescent scarlet and gold.  

The room his hooves clicked down into was…new.  Not just ‘new’, but the sort of fundamental newness that came from a thing that hadn’t existed until very recently.  The very arcane atoms that bound it to reality had that pristine ‘new car smell’ to them that spoke of recent genesis.  And yet…the room didn’t appear new.  The look of the place was reminiscent of Alastor’s time on Earth, the floor made of burnished antique wood that gave off every appearance of advanced age.  The walls had a paneled wainscot in the same wood as the floor, the expanse above it plain for now.

Alastor peered around at the empty space and looked through a large picture window that took up the far wall, realizing quite suddenly that he recognized the view.  They were still in the hotel.  As a matter of fact…

He turned to look at Lucifer who was waiting placidly at his side, arm looped through his own still, “...This is the hotel?”

“Yeah,” the fallen angel said, tucking his free hand into his pocket, “It’s actually right next to our room.  I got clearance from Charlie to do a bit of bending with the space and rearranged some things.”

He gestured to a plain door on one of the walls, “It’s adjoining, actually.  I thought maybe you’d want them close, but you know, if you don’t like anything, I can still change it.”

The Radio Demon stared at the room.

All of this had been made with his wishes in mind and clearly Lucifer had been listening carefully.  Yes…he did want his baby close when they were born.  They’d likely sleep in a cradle next to the bed for a few months, but when they had their own room, this is something Alastor would have chosen.  The adjoining door meant their child would be near and the room itself - it was perfect.  It lacked Lucifer’s blasted circus aesthetic and the whole thing was pleasantly reserved.

Apparently nervously awaiting his judgement, Lucifer babbled away at his ear, “I had a call with Rosie to ask about the kind of cribs she thought you’d enjoy.  She’s speaking to some of the crafters in Cannibal Town to see about some samples.  I know you wanted things handmade, but I’d rather rely on a woodwright who actually makes things in a style you appreciate.  We can go look in a week or two.  As for the rest of the furniture…”

That was quite enough.

Alastor turned to his lover and reached up for his cheek, reeling him down into a kiss and holding him there until his mouth stopped moving.  He felt the moment his king relaxed into the touch and only then did he pull back enough to look into wide golden eyes.

“It’s perfect.  This is precisely what I wanted,” Alastor said before tapping him where his nose would be in reprimand, “Now that’s quite enough fretting.  You’ve more than atoned for the upset this morning.  Where’s that confidence I so enjoy?”

Lucifer’s aureate eyes fell half-lidded and he leaned to press their foreheads together, pulling Alastor in by their joined arms, “Habibi…”

“You really must tell me what that means, ti zanj,” Alastor purred, letting himself be held as a reward for his lover’s fine apology.

“Soon,” Lucifer told him, nuzzling up against him and swaying them ever so slightly, “Soon, I promise…but let it be my secret for now.”

“I suppose I can be lenient,” the Radio Demon sing-songed before their baby gave him a prompt kick just beneath the ribs.

Lucifer laughed when he felt the little swoop where their stomachs touched, “I think they approve.”

“Well that’s that then, isn’t it?” Alastor groused, slipping a hand between them to rub his belly.

“Guess so,” the king twined their fingers together over his stomach, rubbing a thumb along the long line of the Sinner’s pinkie finger, “I’ll start making clothes soon.  How much do you care about gendered things? If you do, we’ll have to wait for your nurses to confirm things.”

Alastor snorted, “They’re an infant , Lucifer, and half-divine besides.  I hardly think they’ll mind.”

“Okay, okay, then I’ll start crafting…the old fashioned way! I promise.  Now…what do you say to dinner up in our room tonight? I have some toy designs I want to run past you,” his angel trilled, full of delight now that all of his hard work had been accepted.

Toys.  Alastor had entirely forgotten the matter of toys.

When he had been very small, toys had been a luxury thin on the vine.  Oh, of course he’d had them…little handmade things his mother had devised for him, but they’d been so sparse that they’d faded from his memory over the century-and-some-odd.  They’d been unimportant as he grew, replaced by greater concerns and other fancies.  To think he’d forgotten something so simple for his own child…

And then there was Lucifer who had literally manipulated the fabric of reality to give Alastor the room he wanted for the coming baby, currently smiling at him as if he were something special indeed.  Dangerous.  Dangerous and tenuous, and yet the traitorous seed of want grew roots in Alastor’s ribcage.

The Sinner cleared his thoughts and smirked, “Oh very well then, I suppose.  Let’s see these designs of yours so I can tell you all the ways they’ll need to be redone.”

Rather than dampening his lover’s spirits, the little hint of casual acid just served to make Lucifer laugh, walking them both towards the adjoining door, “I had a feeling you’d say that.  Luckily we’ve got over four months for me to get it right.  So…let’s get started.”

This man.

~*~

WEEK TWENTY-ONE

Alastor sat in Rosie’s cozily appointed reception room the very next week, a cup of tea set before him and a plate of finger sandwiches tidily arranged beside it like an apology.  This lack of coffee nonsense was a frustration of the highest order, particularly when Rosie dear made such wonderful blends of it.  She’d even learned the precise amount of chicory Alastor preferred in his.  Still, she was a capable hostess and the idea of letting an old friend go without during a visit simply didn’t sit well with her.

Across from him, the woman in question straightened out her skirts and settled in her own chair, “So, no visit from His Majesty today?”

“No,” Alastor intoned, taking a polite sip of the herbal nonsense in front of him just to be a gentleman, “He’s been rather busy this week in his workshop, and frankly I needed a little time away.”

Rosie’s eyes narrowed, “Al, if I have an angry King of Hell knockin’ on my door soon…”

Alastor held up a hand to forestall her, “Nothing like that, my dear.  Lucifer is perfectly well aware of where I am.  I simply didn’t ask him to accompany.”

His fellow overlord’s gaze went shrewd, “Everythin’ goin’ okay between you two? His Majesty isn’t losin’ interest, is he?”

“Quite the opposite, really,” Alastor sighed and leaned back in his seat, looking out the window with a hand on his stomach, “He’s been saintly in his devotion.  I have fine cuts of angelic flesh whenever I wish, he doesn’t pursue me for intercourse when I don’t wish it, when I do wish it he’s deeply attentive, and the fool man seems to be addicted to me.  He seems to find it sweet when I’m cruel to him!”

“Well that all sounds just fine, Alastor! You lucky thing, you,” Rosie smirked at him.

Alastor didn’t rise to her good mood, eyes hooding while he watched several cannibals converge on an interloper through the nearby window, taking bets with himself over how long the poor devil would last, “Now now, Rosie dear, let’s all keep a level head about this…”

“A level head? Alastor, the King of Hell is absolutely ga-ga for you.  You should be lookin’ for a ring, mister, not gettin’ gloom all over my nice armchair,” his fellow Overlord huffed and tapped the rim of her teacup with a claw.

“Ha!” Alastor burst out, putting down his cup to avoid spilling anything on Rosie’s lovely rugs, “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, old girl.  He still has a queen, after all.”

“Seems to me if he’s havin’ a baby with someone else, he’s in the market for a new one.”

The Radio Demon didn’t look at his friend, watching as one of the cannibals outside grew tired of their prey’s struggles and proceeded to beat the poor fellow over the head with his own arm, “This is a novelty for him, Rosie dear.  Lucifer is a spirit of creation and he dotes on his children.  You should see him with Miss Charlie.  Well, as his newest child is still flesh of my flesh, as it were, he dotes on me.  I’m sure it will pass in time, and I don’t recall he ever formally divorced Lilith.”

The fur on the back of Alastor’s neck ruffled as Rosie’s aura grew like a billow of satin-black night around her, “Alastor.”

Attention thoroughly gotten, the Radio Demon turned to find dark pits staring at him where Rosie’s normally doll-black eyes occupied her face.  Oh.  She was quite irate, wasn’t she?

“You, young man, finally have access to all the power you’ve ever wanted.  Am I to understand that you’re in the process of sabotagin’ it without even seeing it through?”

Alastor calmly set his hands on the table and spoke, “At ease, Rosie.  At ease. I’m not sabotaging anything.  I’m simply being realistic.”

“How do you figure?” Rosie asked, a bit of her terrible aspect dimming.

“Think, dear girl.  Lucifer is one of the oldest creatures in all of capital-C Creation and a font of unimaginable power.  He was with his Queen from literally the dawn of human existence.  She founded Hell with him and gave him his first child.  She was the oldest, purest stock of human ever to walk the Earth, save that Adam cad,” Alastor laid out, tapping a claw on her pristine table cloth, “And while my abilities are nothing to sneeze at, I’m a mere one-hundred and twenty-five years in comparison.  I am choosing to be wise about the future of my entanglement with the king, knowing full well if Queen Lilith returned tomorrow, I’d be old news.”

Rosie groaned and placed a hand to her brow, “You are self-sabotagin’ again.”

“Again?” Alastor asked, mildly offended.

“Yes, again ,” His friend informed him tartly, “Al, we’ve been friends for years now an’ you better believe I’ve learned how you work by this point.  You, young man, have no clue how to handle good news unless it comes attached to violence.  You can’t actually handle things goin’ your way for too long because you start to get nervous that you’ll get used to it.  Alastor, I know you.  You don’t cause chaos because you’re a whimsical bastard.  You’re too damn tidy for that.  You cause chaos because you’d rather ruin a good thing than have it taken from you, and I’m worried you’re gonna do it with His Majesty.”

Affronted static rose around them, the antique radio Rosie kept clicking on and flipping violently through stations.

Rosie simply took a sip of her tea and pointed a claw at the Radio Demon, “Enough of that.  You know I’m right or you wouldn’t be getting so defensive.  Just talk to me instead of havin’ yourself a tantrum.”

Alastor took a deep breath.  Another.

He debated the wisdom of rising from his seat and simply leaving right this instant.  Well…it would probably be better to allow his shadows to take him considering his days of ‘rising with dignity’ were long behind him.  This was far too pointed…too direct.  Alastor was a creature of shadows and this particular line of questioning was a floodlight for his psyche.  There was simply nowhere to hide and he didn’t like it one bit.

But…Rosie was one of his oldest alliances and he was sure if he swanned off like this while she was still displeased with him, there would be hell to pay.

So, very much against his will, Alastor settled back in his seat mulishly and stared his friend down to let her know his displeasure, “...What do you even want me to say, Rosie dear?”

The woman arranged herself in her chair with all the stateliness of a queen herself, “The truth, Al.  Are you tryin’ to wreck this whole thing with His Majesty?”

Alastor sighed, “...I’m fond of him.  He is considerate, protective, an attentive listener, and a passionate lover on the rare occasion I find myself in the mood.  Now that he has begun to find a more regal bearing for himself, he’s even witty and sly in a way I find amusing.  He is so excited for our child…”

“An’ you’re terrified there’s an end of the line,” Rosie said pointedly.

“Yes,” Alastor admitted though it felt like sandpaper against his maw, “That’s the thing with creature comforts, my dear…they’re never guaranteed.  I refuse to be like Vox - so addicted to my new luxuries that I’ll be crippled if and when they’re gone.  I have a child on the way.  I have to be smarter than that.”

“But you ain’t bein’ smart, lamb,” his friend said, ignoring the way her radio squealed and underwent another rapid station shift, “You’re bein’ stubborn.  Because lemme tell you somethin’...King Lucifer adores you.  He wanted to please you enough that he let me carve him open and cook pieces of him.  He came to me to ask what you wanted in the nursery.  You’re sittin’ here checkin’ the box for an expiration date instead of savourin’ what’s in it.”

Alastor’s ears fell flat and his sanguineous gaze slid away, “Rosie, I have to think like that.  Say for instance I fall fully into this…this… infatuation.   Say I do that.  What becomes of me then when Queen Lilith returns and suddenly I’m the concubine? I am less than nothing if Lucifer’s affections turn and there’s nothing stopping him from either taking our child or casting us both out.”

Rosie raised an eyebrow, “Are we talkin’ about the same Lucifer?”

“Rosie.”

“Fine,” his friend sighed and waved him off, “You’re still lookin’ at this wrong.  He’s nuts about you.  You’re ass over teakettle for him.  You’re havin’ his baby.  If you’re so convinced there’s an expiration date on his love, then why aren’t you working to extend it?”

“He still wears his ring, Rosie dear,” Alastor said flatly, “I think the expiration date is what it is.”

His old friend fully deflated and she toyed with the rim of her cup, “I think you’re makin’ a big mistake not just lettin’ yourself love him, Al.  He’s gonna sense that eventually an’ he’ll leave just because he knows where he’s not wanted.  You wanna talk smart to me? Then be smart an’ realize Lucifer’s love is one of the only things protectin’ you from the Vees right now.  If you push him away with pride or stubbornness or whatever else, you’re putting yourself and the kiddo right in the crosshairs.”

There was silence between them save for the hiss of the radio seeking a station.

Rosie finally reached across the table for Alastor’s tense fingers and gave them a pat, “You said yourself that you’re fond of him.  Indulge it instead of lookin’ at the poor man like he’s gonna vanish the minute you acknowledge his affections.  The literal King of Hell laid in your lap like a loyal hound without a word for hours an’ here you are waitin’ for the other shoe to drop.”

Alastor looked down at their hands on the table and his ears flickered, “...And if I do allow myself this luxury and it all comes to ash…what then? I’m no one’s fool.”

“Then you burn down the world just like you always do,” his old friend grinned, all teeth.

“And if I choose to ignore your advice and go on my merry way with things?” the Radio Demon queried, knowing full well he was playing with fire.

“Hmph!” Rosie gave him a swat on the hand and went back to her tea, “I know you know better, mister, so I’ll do you the favour of pretending I didn’t hear that question.”

For a moment, a sort of peaceful still fell between them.

Rosie was absolutely right of course.  Alastor did, in fact, know better than to ignore his fellow Overlord’s advice when it came to these things.  She’d been in the relationship business longer than he’d been alive and she’d been a ruthless Overlord under the same circumstances.  She knew about power and about love in equal measure…how to attain it and how to keep it.  If she was pressing him to keep the King, then it would likely be unwise to ignore her.  He still thought it was folly of the highest order of course, but…

The radio finally settled on a station with a click, but it wasn’t music.  It was the fuzzy, distant lub-dub of a heartbeat.

The Queen of Cannibal Town perked up and looked over at her radio, “What on Earth…?”

“Ah, forgive me,” Alastor said, looking over at the blasted thing, “Lucifer finds it disturbing when I fall asleep before him and some nights he’s quite restless.  I’ve learned to project our child’s natal heartbeat to the radio in our room as a comfort to him.  It seems I’ve accidentally hijacked your radio, old girl.”

But Rosie’s black eyes were fixed on the radio, not on him as she said, “...Alastor, listen.”

“I am, Rosie.  Goodness, but you look like you’ve seen an Exorcist.  What’s gotten into you?” The scarlet stag asked, ears tilting towards the radio.

She tutted and held up a hand, squinting for a long moment before sitting up ramrod straight with a blink, “Oh my.  Alastor, you utter devil, you.”

Alastor blinked in turn, removing his monocle to give it a polish (and to give himself something to focus on), “What in Hell’s name have I done now, my dear?”

“You did not tell me you were having twins, buster!”

~*~

The Baphomet nurse hovering over Alastor where he lay in bed, shirt up around his nipples and trousers unbuttoned, made a soft noise of discovery as she moved the ultrasound wand over his stomach, “Ah! There you are…”

Shortly after Rosie’s outburst at her Emporium, Alastor had excused himself as quickly as possible and made a beeline back for his own territory.  Twins.  It couldn’t possibly be.  Why, the implication was nothing short of absurd.  There was no way he and Lucifer would have missed it for four bloody months.  It was too big a detail…too significant a thing to have possibly not noticed.  How in this or any Hell could the Radio Demon have been unaware that he was carrying two children?!

He’d retreated back to the room he shared with Lucifer and had been pleased to find the man out for the moment.  Likely, he’d gone back to the palace for a time to pick up more supplies from his workshop there or, perhaps, to do some of the actual work of running Hell.  It had left Alastor with enough privacy to rummage through the side table for the emergency phone with a direct line to the Sloth Ring that Lucifer insisted on him having.

Alastor would never admit how long it took him to figure out how the blasted nuisance worked.

But, he had gotten it (eventually) and now here he was with that awful, cold jelly on his bare stomach while one of his attendant nurses poke and prodded and speculated.  He just needed to confirm that Rosie had been incorrect…that they hadn’t heard two heartbeats…

“My congratulations to you and His Majesty,” the nurse said, directing Alastor’s attention to a grainy screen that he usually avoided looking at during these visits, “You see just here? You have a shy one tucked away.  No wonder your development has been so advanced.  Two new heirs of Hell instead of one.”

Alastor’s mouth was dry.  Two children.  He had two new children to worry about.

He stared at the normally hated sonogram screen and watched as tiny hands grasped and fluttered…as tiny legs kicked.  He saw where two tiny heads were nestled together against the soft wall of his womb.

“Sir?” His nurse asked.

“...How did we miss it?” He asked curtly.

The Baphomet carefully wiped off her wand and set it aside before picking up a cloth to clean the jelly from Alastor’s stomach (deftly avoiding the tattoo emblazoned there), “It’s rare, sir, but it happens.  It looks like one twin is tucked up under the other in there and it’s possible we just never saw them.  Now that they’re both halfway through development, it’s harder to hide.”

She turned from him and fussed with her blasted machine, printing off a few pictures and laying them neatly on the bedside table for him, “Your nutrition plan will need to change a bit.  I’ll take these back to Queen Belphegor and she’ll ensure your health plans are updated. Is there anything else you need, sir? Are you unwell?”

“...No.  That’s all, thank you,” Alastor said, his perpetual smile in place.

His nurse bowed politely and saw herself out, equipment neatly tucking itself away into a pocket dimension within the old-fashioned doctor’s bag she carried at her side.

Alastor tugged his shirt down and flopped back into bed, folding his hands over his stomach and staring at the garish ceiling above him.  Well, this was a fine mess he’d gotten himself into, wasn’t it? Not only was he pregnant with the next prince or princess of hell, he was currently carrying two.  That meant two little lives to concern himself with if things went sour with one of the most powerful beings in creation.  It meant two children to protect and watch out for in a Hell that existed only to destroy and punish.  Two new responsibilities that would be his forevermore or until the day his soul was erased for good.

He took a deep breath.

At his side, the radio flicked on to his favourite jazz station, a subconscious soothing technique to help him think.

Things needed to be put in order.  For instance, they would need to double their plans for the nursery.  One crib would likely be fine for now, but as the twins grew, they’d need two beds at the very least.  Clothing would also need to be doubled.  Alastor was sure the twins could share toys, though.  Charlie would have to be told in due course, naturally.  The initial notice had been quite a shock for her, so it wouldn’t do to surprise her or keep secrets.  Lucifer would likely need to amplify the wards around the hotel…

Footsteps sounded up the hallway outside and the door opened to a baffled looking Lucifer with a roll of parchment schematics under one arm, coat abandoned and hat cock-eyed on his head, “Al?”

He stepped through and closed the door, “I saw one of your nurses leaving the Hotel just now.  Is everything alright?”

Well.  Best to pull off the band-aid now, wasn’t it?

Not bothering to rise, Alastor raised a hand to beckon his lover over to the bed, “I had a bit of a shock at Rosie’s, ti zanj, and felt it appropriate to call for a nurse.  Come sit.”

“Habibi, are you hurt?” Lucifer asked, immediately abandoning his schematics on the work table and hurrying over to the bed, seating himself on the edge and reaching for Alastor’s cheek to cradle.

“Startled, but unharmed,” Alastor murmured and reached for the glossy pictures sitting on the bedside table, “Look at this and tell me what you see.”

“Al, if something’s wrong, I’d really rather skip your riddles for the time being.  Just…” he paused when the picture slipped into one sin-stained hand, his golden eyes immediately drawn to the image depicted there, “You had an ultrasound?”

“Just so.”

Alastor watched as Lucifer’s gaze flicked from him back down to the picture of their growing little one, the way his brows smoothed out at first when he beheld their baby.  Then, they scrunched up once more when he remembered why he had been given the image at all, searching for any sign of something being wrong.  Alastor waited patiently as Lucifer’s brows rose and then golden eyes were locked on him once more.

“Alastor…”

“Twins, apparently.  I accidentally projected to the radio and Rosie heard two heartbeats.  I’m afraid I made a bit of a fool of myself rushing home to have it checked.  I apologize for the rude surprise, but - “

Lucifer didn’t give him more time to talk, leaning down over the bed to capture him in a deep, probing kiss.  This was becoming a bit of a habit for them, wasn’t it? Alastor’s eyes closed and he hummed into the kiss, parting his wicked teeth to let his lover in and raising a hand to the back of his head.  Not the worst reception to the news, he had to admit.

When his king finally pulled away, it was only to slip into bed next to him and pull him close to his side, still gripping the picture close, “Twins.”

His voice was so full of awe and wonder that Alastor felt the need to hide from it, sighing, “Your boots are on the bed.”

Lucifer clicked his fingers, “They’re clean.”

“Now they are,” Alastor fussed.

“You’re being bitchy, habibi.  Are you okay?” The fallen angel inquired, nosing into his temple like an affectionate housecat who refused to be put off by its owner’s bad mood.

“I am not ‘being bitchy’, thanks ever so.”

“Fine, you’re using minor annoyances to deflect.  That usually means you’re thinking hard about something you don’t want to let me in on,” Lucifer batted away his ill temper easily, stroking a hand over his stomach, “Are you unhappy about a second baby?”

Alastor’s first instinct was to mock his lover and to push away his concern just as he had done for the last four months.  However, his meeting with Rosie was still too fresh in his mind.  If he kept pushing, there would come a point where Lucifer let himself be pushed and then where would Alastor be with two vulnerable children? He inhaled and rounded the sharp edges off of his smile.

“...Two children is double the concern, ti zanj,” he finally said, allowing himself to be held, “Every Overlord in the Pentagram is watching…and I’d imagine so too will every damned soul and Sin once they arrive.  I have a lot to consider now…far more than I did this morning.  One child is a handful.  I only have two hands.”

Lucifer exhaled slowly through his nose and reached to interlace his hands with Alastor’s, “You have four.”

“...For now,” the Radio Demon replied, figuring a little bit of honesty now might be worth it in the long run.

“Wait, hold on,” his fallen king said in that surprisingly deep tenor of his, squeezing Alastor’s hands to draw his attention, “Run that back.  What do you mean ‘for now’?”

Alastor’s smile was little more than a thin line now as he placed more of himself than he wanted on the line, “...I have truly enjoyed our time together.  You must know that before I say anything else.”

“...You’re not going to tell me you want out, are you?” Lucifer said and he sounded so wretched.

“No, you fool, I’m trying to say that I know you will want to part ways with me .  Once the newness of your children has worn away…”

The room went very still indeed save for the music of the radio.  Slowly, Lucifer took his hands back and levered up on them to peer down at his Sinner, “You think I’m going to leave you?”

“Come now, Lucifer, we were barely more than attracted to one another before all of this started.  I have no doubt you’ll love your children the same as you love Charlie, but can you really say the same for me?” Alastor said, wanting to scrape the bile of honesty off of his tongue.

He stared up into Lucifer’s golden eyes and was momentarily breathless at the intensity he saw there, the man’s red pupils drawn so tight they nearly vanished into a sea of aureate sunshine.  

His voice trebled like thunder when he spoke, “Alastor, you are mine .  You consented to our mating and our courtship and you agreed to be mine.  Until the day you revoke that consent, your place is at my side.  Do you revoke your consent?”

The weight of Lucifer’s unholy aura washed over the Sinner like a tide and he gasped, stretched out beneath his king and stunned by the sudden appearance of his magnificence, “...No.”

His voice was little more than a whisper.

“Then you are mine.  I would hunt you to the ends of the Pride Ring if I had to to ensure you remained mine.  I am the Sin of Pride, Radio Demon, and it is a covetous thing.  You should know this better than most, proud thing that you are,” Lucifer leaned down to gently rake sharp teeth against the column of Alastor’s neck, “Why would I give up the disciple who makes me strong? Who carries my babies and bears my mark?”

“Lucifer…” Alastor breathed and watched as six powerful wings slipped from his lover’s back, mantling high.

“Do I need to remind you that you’re mine? Have I forgotten to show you my devotion in all the languages of love, habibi?” Lucifer purred low and deep.

“Wait…” the Sinner said, reaching up to place his hands on Lucifer’s chest, “Wait.”

Lucifer paused, still as a statue above him.

“I require that you say these things to me without the haze of sex or through the filter of our children.  Look me in the eye and tell me that unless I will it so, you will not cast me aside.  No matter what, Lucifer Morningstar, you will keep me for as long as I wish to be kept,” Alastor said firmly though his traitorous body lamented the cease of momentum.

The silly thing did so love when Lucifer showed himself for what he truly was.

“Alastor.  If I didn’t respect you the way I do, I’d keep you long past you wished to be kept.  You’re mine, habibi, until you depart of your own free will or until time crumbles all things to dust.”

The thing with roots in the fallow soil of Alastor’s heart tightened its hold until every fiber of the Sinner’s chest ached and he said, “...Then you may show me that I’m yours.”

The world went dizzy as Lucifer’s strong hands settled on Alastor’s hips and, rather than positioning him for a particularly raunchy bout of sex, he found himself lowered to the floor with a plush pillow appearing beneath his knees.  He was kneeling between his king’s spread legs, looking up at the First Fallen in all of his infernal glory, horns fully extended and hellfire blazing between them.  At his back, all six blood-on-snow wings were arched high and oh yes, this was a king.

“Here are the rules,” Lucifer said as he unzipped his own trousers, freeing his manhood, “You will stay on your knees and receive my benediction until I feel like you’ve learned it word for word.  You can choose to be active or not, but you will heed me.  Am I understood?”

“Yes, ti zanj,” Alastor replied, actually welcoming the safe loss of control after the tumult of the day.

“Very good,” his king said and then firm claws took him by the hair, guiding Lucifer’s cock into his slack mouth where it rested heavy on his tongue, pungent and hot.

Alastor’s ears lay back in submission.

With the self control of a literal angel, Lucifer didn’t thrust, merely tugged at Alastor’s hair in the way he liked while he spoke, “I shudder to think how long you’ve felt this way, Alastor.  I do.  How many nights you’ve laid in our bed wondering when it wouldn’t be yours anymore…”

Alastor swallowed around his cock, wanting to defend or deflect, but lacking the ability as precum dribbled down the back of his throat.  All he could do was listen.

For once, he wasn’t the silver-tongued Radio Demon, sly prince of falsehoods.  He was simply the lover of the King of Hell who needed reminding in no uncertain terms that he was coveted above all others.

“You bring order to my existence.  You make the days less endless, Alastor.  You’re ruthless in ways I was never built to be,” Lucifer growled, scraping clawtips over his partner’s scalp, “I was there for the birth of the stars themselves and some days I still can’t keep up with you.  How dare you think I would let you go?”

Weakly, Alastor ran his tongue along the large vein on the underside of Lucifer’s cock, trying to fight the drift threatening to overtake him.  He wanted to hear , damnit.

“And for what? Something so paltry as waning interest? I am neither the sun, nor the moon, Alastor.  I do not wane .  I am the morning star.  I am a fixed point and so too is my love, foolish Sinner mine.”

Beneath him, Alastor shuffled so he was comfortable on his knees, his pregnant belly resting on the tops of his thighs.  What a sight he was sure he made…the deadly Radio Demon knelt on a pillow before no less than Lucifer Morningstar to receive his prick.  The imagined figure they surely cut lifted Alastor’s tail and he gave it a short wag.  Yes, let them see him providing for the king while the first fallen in existence poured words of devotion into his ears.

A firm yank to his scarlet locks had him groaning, the pain quickly soothed with a finger-tip massage and Lucifer crooned, “Mother of my twins and the only Sinner who dares to lie to me…to challenge me.  You’re mine.  I’ll remind you as often as you like, but you’re mine .”

Through the growing haze in his head, Alastor had enough presence of mind to work his mouth, suckling softly on Lucifer’s dick and swallowing around him.  The pain kept him relaxed enough to continue breathing through his nose, head listing to lean a cheek against the Devil’s thigh.  Lucifer was happy to let him, not releasing his grip but following along - just as obedient to Alastor as the Sinner was to him.

But then the king’s voice softened, “I want to care for you and for our children.  You are a monster, Alastor, but a wounded one.  You’ve earned your place in Hell, but perhaps what the king requires is a monster.  Be my monster, habibi, and I will be your king.”

He was already Alastor’s king.

The world ran down around the Sinner like an oil painting smeared with turpentine, everything gone soft and fluid while Lucifer went silent above him and instead focused on sensation.  His skilled hands alternated between harsh pulls, tender petting, and the occasional drag of claws from the crown of Alastor’s head to the nape of his neck.  He tweaked the Sinner’s eartips and stroked between his eyes, encouraging him to let down his defenses.

Could he not see Alastor was already an open book for him, cover thrown open and words there to be read with abandon? 

God, let him read those words and know that Alastor longed to be kept as he promised so that his Sinner wouldn’t have to speak the words again.

“Malikat kuli shay' eindi…” Lucifer hummed and fisted his hands in the hair at the back of Alastor’s head, strong but not brutal.

The world faded into static.

Chapter Text

WEEK TWENTY-SEVEN

The children's’ nursery was coming along nicely.

Lucifer had fully taken Alastor’s wishes to heart and everything aside from the basic formation of the space was being done entirely by hand.  It was taking significantly more time, but the place was positively drenched in the fallen angel’s essence thanks to all of the time and effort he was pouring into it.  He’d spent most of yesterday painting the walls above the wainscotting and the once blank space now depicted a half-realized woodland scene.  

Alastor was studying the mural quietly.

It was the time he typically designated as a free period between the end of his working day and the beginning of supper, and the heavily pregnant Sinner was stationed in what would one day be his children’s room, pondering over the choice.  He was reclined in a sturdy wooden rocking chair that had taken up a place next to the wide picture window, gently pushing himself back and forth with a hoof.

It was such a strange looking forest.  Alastor hadn’t been exactly well-traveled during his time on Earth, but he couldn’t recall a single tree that looked like the ones his partner had painstakingly painted in stunning detail for the twins.  At first Alastor had supposed that they were simply a species he’d never encountered in his life, but that couldn’t be right.  Lucifer was bound to Hell and had been since the dawn of Humanity, so in all actuality he was about as poorly traveled as the Sinner himself was.

So what was this place?

It was gorgeous, wherever it was, so it wasn’t as if Alastor was exactly up in arms about it.  It just niggled something in the back of his mind that he didn’t quite come to grips with.

As if in agreement, one of his twins squirmed against the taut skin of his belly and Alastor shushed them, running a clawed hand over the stretched fabric of his shirt, “There there, ti pòm.  We’ll feed you soon, you voracious little monster.”

His voice was fond as he spoke, tracing nonsense patterns with his pointer claw while he followed the movement of his restless baby.

Alastor’s ears pricked up at the sound of familiar boots in the adjoining bedroom, swiveling to follow their path.  Lucifer had been at the palace today going through paperwork and deciding what would need to be brought over so he could work from the hotel once the twins were born.  He was actually back at a reasonable hour, which wasn’t as surprising as it once would have been - the king growing less and less willing to be away from the mother of his new children by the day.

Eventually, his footfalls grew near and an aureate crown of well-coiffed hair appeared in the doorway.

Lucifer’s face split into a beatific smile at the sight of the swollen Radio Demon sitting in the rocking chair that had been commissioned from the artisans of Cannibal Town, “Habibi…”

Alastor hummed in greeting, laying a hand flat over his stomach, “Good evening, ti zanj.  Productive day?”

“Hardly,” Lucifer puffed out a sigh that seemed to shrink him ever so slightly and he quickly closed the distance between them, coming to kneel at Alastor’s (aching) hooves, “How does the work build up so fast ? I was at the palace for hours and barely made a dent.”

The Sinner reached out with his free hand to pat the top of his lover’s head with playful condescension, “Poor dear.  Near limitless control of reality must be so trying for you.”

“Phenomenal cosmic power,” Lucifer droned, “Itty bitty time for fun.”

Alastor cocked his head, “Beg pardon?”

Lucifer waved him off and leaned to rest his cheek against his lover’s baby bump, “Eh, ignore me.”

“Very well,” the Radio Demon said airily and leaned back in his seat, content to be gently worshipped after yet another long day of being exhaustingly pregnant.

How could this only be a quarter of the way through the sixth month?

Luckily, Lucifer seemed just as content to be ignored if it meant he had time to nuzzle up against the curve of his lover’s belly, whispering nonsense to his growing twins.  Alastor watched him from beneath lowered lids, observing how the fallen angel doted over the little lives growing between them.  Had Alastor’s own father ever felt that way about him? Had there been a time ever when he’d thought of the potential of a son and been excited?

Alastor doubted it, but the thought occasionally occurred to him in these peaceful moments when he was given a glimpse into the kind of father Lucifer would be… could be.

After a moment, Lucifer was murmuring, “Do you like the chair?”

“It’s comfortable,” Alastor replied without thinking too hard about it.

“That’s good.  I got a letter from Donner and Sons Carpenters and they’re anticipating that the crib will be ready for delivery next week.  Then we can look at other things like bedding and rugs. Mmm…maybe I’ll make a mobile…”

Alastor had no doubt whatever he made would be lovely.  After all, despite his nitpicking for the sake of it, many of the toys Lucifer had begun developing were quite nice.  

However…

“On the topic of decor, dear,” Alastor said, stretching out his hooves without jostling his lover, “I’m curious about the painting.”

“Oh!” Lucifer perked up, rocking back on his knees to look up at the Sinner, “Do you not like it? We have time if you want something else…”

There was a note of resignation in his tone that Alastor couldn’t understand.

“Goodness no, pet.  It’s quite lovely and inoffensive.  It simply…is this an imagined place? It seems - well, something about it seems familiar but I can’t for the life of me fathom why it would be.  I’ve never seen trees like that in my life or death,” he explained, gesturing up to the mural.

Lucifer followed his hand to gaze up at the painting.  For a moment, it looked very much like the Fallen was losing himself in the scene that he’d painted, his eyes going somewhere far away indeed.

Finally, a faint smile that spoke of sadness tugged at the king’s lips and he said, “It makes sense that it would look familiar to you.  You’ve never seen it, no.  No mortal soul from your time ever would have since it was already gone by the time your ancestors were even born.  It’s interesting that some part of you remembers it, though.”

The first spark of understanding kindled in Alastor’s mind, but he bided.

“It’s where you’re all from, in the beginning.  It’s a memory of Eden,” Lucifer finished before turning his eyes back up to his lover, searching his face, “It’s just…one of the last places I was ever really happy.  I want my kids to experience it even if it’s just a tired, old angel’s memory of it.”

Eden.

There, depicted in loving detail above the place where his children would sleep, was the first faithfully rendered sight of Eden any mortal had ever seen since the day of the Apple and the Serpent.  This was the Garden of Eden as summoned from the memory of one of the few beings in all creation who had actually seen it and now Alastor was gazing upon the cradle of his own long-distant genesis.  

Something very mortal in his bones quaked at the knowledge and he cleared his throat, deflecting neatly, “Ah, yes.  I suppose that makes sense.  Miss Charlotte surely had the same, I assume?”

“Oh…nah,” Lucifer said and rubbed the back of his neck, rising to his feet to study his own painting.

“No?” 

“Nope.  Lils was really against it when I brought the idea up, which…y’know…fair,” the king sighed and brought his hands down, tucking them behind his back.

The ring glinted from the darkness of his pinkie finger and Alastor’s smile thinned.

Lilith.

But Lucifer was talking again, standing before his latest creation, “It was all too raw for her, you know? It was the only place she’d ever known and she’d been thrown out and here I wanted to slap it up on a wall to mock her.  It was…yeah, depictions of Eden weren’t peaceful for her.  Not like they were for me.”

Alastor very much wanted to rise to his hooves to go stand beside Lucifer, but standing from the rocking chair would look undignified and with Lilith hanging over him once again, the last thing the Radio Demon wanted to be was undignified.

Instead, he leaned one elbow against the arm of his chair and rested his chin on it, “Why is it different for you then? Didn’t you fall because of what happened there?”

Lucifer blew his lips and let out a little horsey-sounding raspberry noise, “...Don’t get me wrong, Al, Eden was the end of a lot of things for me and the stage of one of the worst days of my existence.  But…I didn’t fall from Eden.  I fell from Heaven.  Eden was beautiful.  It was the beginning of everything on Earth…animals, plants, people, ideas.  I never would have had Charlie in my life if I hadn’t met Lilith, and that happened in Eden .”

Defensively, Alastor curled a hand over his own belly as if he could protect his children from the memory of the one woman who could usurp them.  Lucifer had sworn to keep him for as long as he wanted to be kept, but Lilith still hung over Alastor like the Sword of Damocles.

“You wouldn’t have fallen if you’d never met Lilith,” the Sinner said, dry as Death Valley.

Lucifer turned on his heel so he could see Alastor out of the corner of his eye, “I mean…knowing me? If it wasn’t Eden, it probably would have been something else and at least I got Charlie out of the deal.  Not to diminish how hard everything was for Lilith…just…”

He shrugged.

“You still think quite a great deal about Lilith,” Alastor said levelly.

His lover’s golden eyes scrutinized him, sensing the mood shifting surely, “...I mean…yeah? We might be done, but she was by my side for literal eons.  We recovered from the Fall together and founded Hell together.  We can be over and still have history, habibi.”

“It is quite a history,” Alastor said, refusing to rise from his deliberately lackadaisical pose…as if this entire conversation were beneath him…as if he simply couldn’t be any less worried about the one woman who had left Lucifer and Charlie like forgotten toys…as if he had never considered how utterly fucked he would be if she returned.

Lucifer shook his head and let out a quiet sound of amusement, “...Alright, you’re fishing for something.  What’s wrong?”

“I’ve simply no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sing another song, beautiful,” the king said and fully turned from the mural, walking back over to the chair where his lover sat, “I know what you’re doing when you do that.  I’ve watched you do it.  You’re laying out traps and waiting for someone to step in it…or it’s a lure and you’re teasing for information.  So what is it today? Trap or lure?”

Alastor’s fathomless scarlet eyes narrowed.

It was so irritating when Lucifer managed to sniff him out, though to be honest even Alastor wasn’t sure which of the two it was.  Part of him wanted to snap and bite at even the suggestion of the Queen of Hell who still seemed to hold a fascination for the father of his children.  He wanted to lash out like a cornered animal.

On the other hand, he also wanted to know just how deep that fascination went and just how much he’d have to worry if ever Lilith did deign to return.  

As if sensing the impending scrap, Lucifer reached to cradle Alastor’s jaw, drawing him away from his insolent slump and stroking his cheekbone, “Just tell me directly.  I’ve been away from you all day and I don’t want to fight.”

Alastor resisted the urge to lean into the adoring hand of his own infernal deity and instead watched him warily, “...Lilith is a threat.”

Now it was Lucifer’s turn to be surprised and he blinked down at his partner, “What are you talking about?”

“Think, ti zanj.  She still has such a hold on you even after all of our months together and the talks that we’ve had.  What happens if she comes back for her throne? Will the father of my children retreat back into his cage?” Alastor said, neatly hiding his deeper concerns beneath the surface.

If anything, Lucifer looked even more confused, “Alastor, Lilith doesn’t have a throne.  We’re divorced and have been for ah…a while.”

“You still wear her ring,” slipped from Alastor’s mouth like a drop of unintended poison.

Lucifer’s face did something rather bizarre then, shifting through several emotions and wearing them like a rapid mutation on his normally handsome features.  It happened quickly, but Alastor was able to pick up signs of surprise, utter bafflement, something that looked near to horror, and then at last it settled between understanding and barely contained hilarity.  The corners of his lips twitched.

“Do not laugh at me, Lucifer,” Alastor snarled, not liking this development in the least.  He raised a hand to summon his shadows and ferry himself away from this suddenly humiliating interaction.

“Wait, wait, wait, habibi, you’re not going anywhere,” Lucifer said and his voice was bubbly with thinly veiled mirth, waving a hand to stymie the Radio Demon's attempts to flee, “Nope.  We’re talking about this.”

“What is there to discuss?” The Radio Demon bit out acidly when his magic failed to respond to him, ears laying flat and static rising.

“Okay, easy.  First off, I’m not laughing at you .  I’m laughing at the situation.”

“I wasn’t aware my concerns were so amusing to you,” Alastor said tartly.

“They’re not , and trust me we’re going to talk about those, but Al…this isn’t…oh man, do people really think this is my wedding ring? Alastor, it’s not even on the right finger!” A few unwilling chuckles slipped from Lucifer’s mouth and he fought to stifle them, “Father, Lilith and I were married in a time before wedding rings were even a thing .  That didn’t come around until…oh geez…Rome?”

The heat of embarrassed anger had been knocked right out of Alastor and all he could do was stare at his lover with every argument slipping from his head.  That ring…the ring that he had been obsessing over…wasn’t even a thrice-damned wedding ring? The dreaded Radio Demon had been sitting around and fretting like a schoolgirl with her first crush over an utterly innocuous piece of jewelry? 

“Then what in Hell is it?” Alastor bit out, the ridge of fur on the back of his neck bristling.

“It’s…whooo, hold on a sec, this is a doozy for me,” Lucifer said and thumped his chest before collecting himself, “It’s just my signet ring.  Symbol of office and all that.  I use it to seal official missives with the Heaven embassy.”

“And why ,” his lover snapped, “Do you wear it on your left hand?”

“Because this thing is a nuisance? I barely need it and my right hand is dominant…which, don’t ask me why a literal angel has a dominant hand - I didn’t always, you know…so I wear it over here to keep it out of my way and then just leave it there.  I honestly forget about it most of the time.”

Alastor was an idiot.  

He was a fucking fool who had just played the hand he’d been keeping tucked tight to his chest for months over a false flag.

What was happening to him?

Lucifer pulled him out of his head with another gentle stroke to his cheek, lingering and tender, “Al…did we just step on another landmine up there? I thought we covered this.  You’re mine until you don’t want to be.  Lilith doesn’t change that.”

Ears pinned so tight to his skull they vanished into his hair, Alastor turned away from that loving touch, “I was mistaken.”

“Hey, no…you were actually worried about something so I want to talk about it,” Lucifer sighed but didn’t try to touch him again, “Look…based on this whole conversation, I can guess what you’ve been thinking.  You were being honest when you said Lilith was a threat…but you thought she was a threat to you .  You’ve been thinking I’d go right back to her if she came back.  Am I off base here?”

“It was a foolish notion,” Alastor said, neither confirming nor denying.

Soft lips buffed against his forehead.

“Habibi, let me make your situation painfully clear.  There is no queen to compete with.  Lilith isn’t coming back and even if she did, she would just be Charlie’s mother and nothing more.  I’m loyal to you and to our children.  Finally…it’s not a failure for you to be worried about the future.  You’re pregnant.  I’m not going to mock you for worrying about things,” Lucifer said softly against the Sinner’s brow.

Alastor sighed heavily, moving his hand in unconscious circles over his children, “...Only the weak worry, Lucifer.  I cannot afford to be.”

His lover audibly scoffed, “Are you out of your mind, Al? I am one of the strongest beings in creation and I worry all the time.”

“No,” Alastor corrected him, ears flickering, “You are powerful , dear.  So powerful, in fact, that you can afford to show your weak spots to the world because who is mad enough to strike at them?”

“Aside from you?” Lucifer asked wryly.

“Aside from me, I suppose,” the Sinner granted, “But that’s my point.  What happened to you when I struck body blows against your ego? You were a bit annoyed? Maybe a little insulted?”

“Habibi, you dropped a piano on me.”

“And were you injured?” Alastor said, tipping his head pointedly.

Lucifer apparently couldn’t resist tapping him on the nose to try and break his bad mood as he said, “Okay, okay, message received.  You think letting me know what you’re worried about is showing weakness and you can’t afford to show weakness.  Am I right?”

“You’ve seen the world I’ve had to occupy, Lucifer.  I walk the finest of tightropes every day just to maintain my status, my souls, and what existence I have left to me.  Being ‘open’ the way you and Charlie are is a death wish for the rest of us.”

“...But does it still have to be with me?” Lucifer asked and his voice was so open…

Alastor leaned back in his chair so he could look up at the Devil, considering the depth and breadth of the question.

Alastor DuBois was the textbook definition of “Once bitten, Twice shy”.  If you asked him his opinion of “Fool me once, shame on you.  Fool me twice, shame on me”, he’d happily tell you that the trick was to never get fooled in the first place.  He hadn’t made it this far in the cosmic game that saw them all on someone else’s board by being a soft-hearted idiot, but…

The Radio Demon also knew how to read the signs and Lucifer didn’t just post them, he did it in blasted neon.

Since their tumultuous first nights and days together, Lucifer had been loyal, hadn’t he? Not just during the easy parts either.  He’d seen the ugliest parts of Alastor…the cannibalism, the trauma, the anger, and the startling inability to just be normal about a single fucking thing and yet he still dropped to his knees just to be near him.  He’d literally had parts of himself eaten, been snapped at, snarled at, and insulted and he still lit up when he walked into a room and found Alastor there.  He’d come to his rescue without a second thought at the Overlord meeting and he’d listened afterwards.

Alastor had given his lover a million different reasons to pack his bags and it seemed like the king only took it as an invitation to make himself at home.

There was also Rosie’s advice to consider.

How far could Alastor lock Lucifer out and still keep him? How long could he shut himself up like a little clam whenever things got tough and still consider himself any sort of partner? Most importantly of all, how long could he lock his daisy away from the sun and fresh water and still expect him to grow? 

How long until he was as bad as Lilith?

The thought moved him to part his lips and speak, “...How am I meant to compete with everything Lilith is and was to you, Lucifer?”

Relief flooded his lover’s face and the Devil’s smile returned like dawn breaking, “You don’t, Al.  I don’t need a second Lilith.  I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m trying out this whole ‘turning over a new leaf’ thing.”

The taller man gestured to his much-changed form and Alastor snorted at him.

“Look, I get that you’re used to nothing being certain.  You have to fight every day for everything if you want to keep it.  But remember what I told you? I don’t wane.  I’m not inconstant.  Father, Al, Lilith had to leave me for me to get that we were done.”

Something occurred to Alastor.

This whole discussion, the babies had barely been brought up at all.  This was just about them .  To think he had worried that Lucifer Morningstar would forsake him once the children were born...

At last, Alastor reached out to breach the distance between them, “Help me up so I can look closer at the painting, ti zanj.  I’m a covetous man and if I’m the first mortal soul since Lilith to look at the true face of Eden, I’d like a tour guide.”

If possible, Lucifer brightened further and reached to gently guide his gravid form out of the rocking chair, steadying him on his hooves and kissing his cheek, “I’ll tell you every secret I have about the place so even if the others see the painting, you’ll be the only one who knows .”

“You do know how to appeal to me, don’t you?” Alastor said, letting himself be led over to the mural.

“Hey, I know how you work, Al.  Secrets for secrets,” Lucifer told him.

The declaration settled the last of the unease that had nested in Alastor’s guts during the course of the conversation.  It was Lucifer’s quiet way of reassuring him that everything they’d talked about here remained between them.  It also acknowledged that he understood how very much Alastor had given up in admitting his concerns about the fallen’s ex-wife.  

It did feel rather nice to be understood.

As they stood before the mural together, Lucifer looked down at him and asked, “...So, wait.  People actually think I’m still wearing a wedding ring for a woman who left me?”

Idiot.

~*~

WEEK THIRTY

Towards the beginning of the seventh month, things were peaceful.

Well…for the relative value of peace in Hell.

The children’s new nursery was complete, all the furniture moved in and the wards duly reinforced to protect the new heirs of Hell.  A lovingly hand-carved crib now occupied the wall closest to the adjoining door between the nursery and their parents’ room, with a temporary bassinet waiting for the early days while they were too young to be on their own.  A soft, fleecy rug dominated the center of the room, flanked by Alastor’s rocking chair.  The storage area under the cushions of the window seat were filled with an appropriate amount of toys for the children as they grew, and a small table with an antique radio sat near the foot of the crib.  The sprawling mural of Eden was long finished and sealed, filled with whimsical scenes of animals and plants no mortal had seen in millennia.

Things with Charlie had smoothed out sufficiently over the months since she’d first discovered she would be a sister.  She was as doting as her father, constantly trying to shuffle Alastor’s schedule without him noticing to give him less hours, perpetually trying to schedule him out of the kitchen (which he only allowed on occasion when his back was protesting too mightily), and always leaving little gifts in the twins’ nursery.  Those little signs of her love were stored on a high shelf where they could be seen, but not grabbed at by curious hands until their babies were old enough for something to not disappear up a nostril.

Lucifer had been more charming than before now that he was aware of all the bugbears that had been haunting Alastor’s mind.  The Fallen was truly playing the part of a king now - focusing on his work and keeping to healthy schedules as if he hoped he might earn his lover’s approval…not that he needed it.  He’d even taken to storing his signet in a box on his work desk rather than wearing it at all times.  

Vox had, of course, jumped on that fact with both feet…though interestingly he’d chosen to do the media equivalent of a delicate pussyfoot rather than his usual inelegant carpet-bombing.

That was another thing.

Vox had been quiet since the incident at the Overlord meeting.  No new assemblies had been called, no drones had been sighted on or around hotel grounds (wrecked or otherwise).  On the occasions Lucifer coaxed Alastor out for a date at Rosie’s Emporium, their steps were left un-dogged.  Nobody seemed to notice but Alastor…well…no one but Alastor and Angel Dust.

One of the strangest aspects of pregnancy aside from runaway libido and his growing affection for the First Fallen was Alastor’s burgeoning camaraderie with the hotel’s resident deviant.

The stark pragmatism that had initially clued the Radio Demon in to Angel’s hidden capacity for higher thought still shone through and had, of late, been making itself known.  They most frequently overlapped in the kitchen over breakfast these days, Alastor’s just beginning while Angel was still scraping up the fragments of yester.  Today was just such a day and Alastor was settling at the island with a cup of tea and his newspaper as Angel schlepped in with a jaw-cracking yawn.

“Welcome back, my effeminate fellow. Long night in the trenches?” Alastor asked with his usual antagonistic tilt that Angel had long since stopped caring about.

“Long night with everyone in my trenches, more like,” Angel grumbled back because he knew vulgarity could still make Alastor twitch.

The only response today was an acknowledging dip in the ambient static surrounding one of Hell’s most dangerous (and pregnant) Overlords.

“Charming,” Alastor drawled into his tea, counting down in his head how long was left until he could have blessed coffee once more.

Angel went over to the coffee maker (damn him again) and started pottering with it, angling for a cup of black gold that Alastor could very much no longer have, his voice contemplative as he commenced his morning ramble, “Yeah, Val’s been extra pissy lately.  Think it’s ‘cause Vox is having himself a snit.”

“A snit, is it?” Alastor asked with feigned disinterest that he was sure a seasoned performer like Angel would hear.

The leggy spider nodded down at the coffee pot, primary arms folded over his chest, “Yeah, since that Head Honcho meetin’ you guys had a couple months back.  It’s been fuckin’ weird.”

Alastor turned the page of his newspaper and hummed, “Mr. Dust, this is, in fact, Hell.  Weird is par for the course.”

It was an invitation for Angel to clarify.

Knowing the steps to the dance perfectly well, the younger Sinner took his cue smoothly, “So, that meetin’, right? Right before they were s’posed to go, Val was giddy as hell…like a little kid goin’ to the park.  Even Vox was a little more smug than usual, which is scary as shit, Smiles.  You think you’re creepy? Nothin’ beats Vox when he’s on the warpath.”

While mildly offended that his capacity for sending a chill down one’s back was being challenged, Alastor grudgingly understood what Angel meant.

Vox had never been particularly threatening to him , no, but Alastor had never been his subordinate either.  He’d already been established in Hell as a superpower by the time the Television Overlord had made his descent, but he’d seen the man’s less savoury traits from the outside plenty of times.  When he wanted something, even something as pedestrian as revenge, he went to extravagant lengths to get it - the drive that had built VoxTech from the ground up extending to all aspects of his character.

He was also rather a fan of coating his poison in honey until you never quite knew if you were being offered a sweet or certain doom.  For Alastor it had merely been a charming quirk that he never quite fell for, not being particularly fond of sweets himself and not compelled to play Vox’s games either way.  For a subordinate though? Why, it must be positively dizzying and disorienting to deal with.

Alastor supposed he could see how their Itsy Bitsy Spider found that somewhat more ‘creepy’ than his own brand of malice.  

“Yes, I can imagine Valentino would have been quite excited about that particular meeting.”

Angel paused at the counter and turned his head to regard the Overlord, “...Don’t get mad or nothin’, but Husky told me it was a trap.”

The Radio Demon debated whether to be annoyed at his thrall for sharing his private business like that, but a swift kick from one of his half-awake children derailed him.  Perhaps he’d speak to Husk about it when he had more energy later.

Much later.

Instead he merely sipped his drink and said, “It was, though in the end a spectacular failure on all fronts.”

“I kinda figured since you’re still here and Short King hasn’t like…ripped apart reality or nothin’,” Angel said as if the idea of unholy, world ending terror was just another bit of nonsense he’d probably have to endure someday, “And because Vox has been a fuckin’ pissbaby since he an’ Val got back.”

Swearing really had gotten quite creative since Alastor’s time on Earth, and certainly more vulgar.

Angel turned his head back to his task in time to pour a mug of coffee.  Rather than joining Alastor at the island, he leaned his coccyx up against the counter and cradled his mug up to his fluff.  It was another reason Angel was tolerable in the mornings.  He’d just spent the entire night with hands all over his body and he didn’t particularly want to be near anyone else until he got his head back on straight.  Alastor was safe because he didn’t particularly want to be in Angel’s space to begin with, so they sat on opposite sides of a comfortably drawn line in the sand with nothing said on the matter.

“Like…Vox was fuckin’ mad when they first got back an’ things were alright then, y’know? Val was off cheerin’ him up or whatever and he pretty much left us alone for like a week.  Vox don’t like me much so I got some time off even while those two fucked it out, I guess,” Angel shrugged.

Pointedly, Alastor flipped down the edge of his newspaper and raised an eyebrow at the casual crudeness.

Angel gave him a blank, unimpressed look, “Smiles, you can be as much of a prude as you want about it, but pregnant doesn’t just happen.  You can handle a bit of rough talk.”

“Continue, Angel,” Alastor prompted, letting an edge of warning enter his voice.  He didn’t mind Angel’s company and found him to be a decent enough morning companion, but there was only so much disrespect he’d tolerate in one sitting.

Obligingly, the spider held up a placating hand and swallowed a mouthful of his coffee, “Right.  The Vees.  So shit was fine while Vox was angry.  Hell, Val likes it when Vox is angry ‘cause they’re fuckin’ psychos I guess.  Anyway, it all started goin’ south at the studio a coupla weeks back.  Val’s got a hair trigger lately and Vox…he’s gone quiet.  That means he’s ignorin’ Val.”

Alastor digested that information slowly, rolling it over in his mind to discover the flavours of it.

So.

His assumption that Vox had been suspiciously quiet had been correct, and that was a very curious thing indeed.  Back in the old days before everything had swan-dived into shit between them, Alastor recalled times when Vox would fail.  He always found them spectacularly funny at the time because what inevitably followed was a period of what could only be described as mania.  Vox would mutter, obsess, work himself into an utter tizzy, and drive himself around the bend.

The problem was that the end of that period was usually punctuated by an explosive bout of overkill that didn’t just assure his victory, but salted the earth in his wake.

Alastor tapped a claw on the ceramic of his teacup.

On the one hand, the fact that Vox had gone silent and withdrawn even from Valentino could mean he was ramping up for just such an assault.  It would be true to form for him, certainly.  On the other hand, his opponent had never been the King of Hell before and Alastor wasn’t sure even he was that foolhardy.  Lucifer had made it quite clear at the failed ambush some months ago that any blow struck against Alastor was a blow struck against him and he was in no mood to tolerate it.  So perhaps Vox’s silence was simply that.

Alastor didn’t like the uncertainty.

Smoothing a hand over the taut swell of his stomach beneath his immaculate outfit, Alastor finally laid his paper down on the island in front of him, “Well! Provided we’re all spared his prattling, I for one am prepared to call it a victory.”

Until he knew what he was facing, Alastor’s game face would stay firmly in place.

Angel looked unconvinced but just shrugged with his topmost shoulders and swigged his coffee, “Just…keep your eyes open, okay Smiles? I like existin’ and I feel like a pissed off fallen angel might stop me from doin’ that.”

Alastor’s ears swiveled at the sound of familiar boots in the dining room beyond and he smoothly transitioned the conversation to safer waters, “Well, I am certainly grateful for the advice.  Will you be waiting for breakfast?”

Understanding filtered into Angel’s eyes and he yawned again behind a fist, “Nah.  I need to get my head down in case Val calls for an emergency shoot later.”

The door to the kitchen swung open and Alastor tried quite valiantly to ignore the way his tail wanted to wag when Lucifer strolled in, eyes going molten at the sight of his Sinner.  It never failed to go straight to his head, the way Lucifer’s focus revolved around him.  Being the focal point of an ancient monster’s whole world was certainly a head rush, and not one Alastor planned to grow numb to any time soon.

Reading the room, Angel pushed off from the counter and saluted with his mug, “A’ight, well you two remember to sanitize the place when you’re done.  Mornin’, Short King.”

“Angel,” Lucifer greeted warmly (though with some confusion) and only spared a glance for the Sinner’s departure before he was honing in on Alastor again, walking to his side and pressing a kiss to his temple as if they hadn’t just been in bed together less than an hour ago, “I’m off, Habibi.”

“Back to the palace, is it?” Alastor asked.

“Yeah.  I really want to knock out this mess so I have time to be with the children once they’re here,” his lover confirmed.

“Yes, well, I feel a need to inform you that this is what you get for neglecting your duties for so long, ti zanj.  You really did bring this upon yourself,” Alastor said, reaching out with a claw to tap him on the forehead.

Lucifer captured it deftly and brought it to his lips, buffing them over Alastor’s knuckles, “Kick a guy when he’s down, why don’t you? Where would I be without my own personal monster?”

“Drinking alone at night, I expect,” Alastor sing-songed but pointedly didn’t pull out of his grip.

It was the little ways he chose to show his fondness that mattered.

The king only smiled against his knuckles and huffed a laugh, “Honestly? Probably.  Alright, I should go.  I’ll be home in time for dinner if I don’t end up hyperfocusing on something.  You’ll be here?”

Lucifer had learned months ago that issuing commands to Alastor always ended badly.  His Sinner would strive to buck his authority, which would only frighten him, and it would all end up in a mess.  Better to imply his wants while still making it Alastor’s choice, the clever disaster of a man.

He wanted Alastor to be here.

“Indeed!” The Radio Demon chirped, “I’m far too busy here to possibly dream of being elsewhere.  Should that change, I’ll instruct Husk to courier an update to you.”

A subtle reminder that should the other Overlords beckon, he’d be forced to answer.

His king merely nodded and leaned in to tangle their fingers over his pregnant stomach.  Inside, the twins quickened at their father’s presence, squirming and pressing up to meet him.  Alastor let out a soft grunt and wondered privately if there was something divine that bound them since they always seemed to know when Lucifer was near.  The idea didn’t bother him unduly, not when the king smiled so radiantly at the feel of them striving for him just under Alastor’s flesh.

“Okay,” Lucifer breathed out in undisguised awe before pressing a quick peck on Alastor’s lips.

“Okay,” he said again and it seemed to take a great force of will to pull himself away from his Sinner.

“Tonight,” Alastor reminded him, giving him a look that said ‘you can’t come back if you don’t leave in the first place’.

Taking the hint, Lucifer bestowed one final kiss on his hair and turned to depart the kitchen, leaving Alastor alone with his thoughts.

~*~

For once, Alastor didn’t try to resist Charlie’s attempts to rearrange his carefully ordered schedule and took the extra hours of off-time he was allotted with silent gratitude.  It meant he could be somewhere other than prowling the halls or locked up in his office.  It meant that he could retreat back to the familiar boundary of his personal bayou to do some very, very deep thinking.

Vox was an issue, and not one Alastor could afford to put on the back burner in his own head.  The last time he’d left a Vee problem to percolate, it had wound up with him essentially on trial before the assembled Overlords.  Hell, it could have ended in a massacre or with him on Vox’s chain, and frankly Alastor preferred the former to the latter.  He’d let himself be lazy about solving a problem and it had very nearly bitten him square on his hind end.

Not again.

Hooves carrying him across his well-appointed room that was still tidy as ever and free of dust despite the fact that he all but lived with Lucifer now, Alastor made a beeline for his own personal pocket dimension.  The minute he crossed the threshold, the world came to life with frogsong and the drone of cicadas, the whole world waking up out of dormancy now that he was here.  A hidden gator rumbled from the waters and Alastor felt his soul settle on a jessamine-scented breeze.

What to do about Vox?

Ideally, if Alastor was still the man from seven months ago, he wouldn’t have bothered with questioning, really.  Vox had moved against him and insulted him besides.  It didn’t matter if the man wasn’t a threat now , he had earned the punishment.  He’d humiliated Alastor in front of the powers that be and the Radio Demon did not tolerate public affront.  

If it was seven months ago, Vee Tower would already be burning.

But…

Alastor peered down at his stomach.

It was not seven months ago.  Here he stood as a changed demon, so near to giving birth to his children that they’d even begun watching his due date like a hawk.  He was the lover of the king…his exceedingly pregnant lover…and striking a calculated blow like he once would have required somewhat more calculation than before.  

Point number one: If Alastor went on a death march through Vee territory, Lucifer would be furious.  He didn’t often show his primal side, but when he did it was certainly not something Alastor wanted to be on the receiving end of once again.  Such a flagrant violation of the king’s trust might be something not even the Radio Demon could talk his way back from.

Point number two: Alastor hadn’t even hunted since falling pregnant, so he had no idea where his capabilities lay.  His balance had been off while his growing children spread his hips and altered his center of gravity, so what would that do to him in a fight? God, he’d let himself go to pot, hadn’t he? 

Point number three: The Vees were armed to the teeth with angelic weaponry and seemed to have formed some sort of alliance with Carmilla of late, giving them access to more.  All it would take was one wrong step in an altercation to mortally wound one of the children.  They wouldn’t even need to kill him …

But that of course led him to point number four: Alastor couldn’t just do nothing .  

He wouldn’t be any less pregnant if the Vees decided to attack him instead of the other way around.  He’d still have to defend his babies if they came calling while he was still compromised.

Though that led Alastor right back around to the fact that not even the Vees were insane enough to harm Lucifer Morningstar’s children.  The king wouldn’t even need to blink to eradicate them if one of the babies he doted on was injured or worse in one of their blitz attacks.  They were craven idiots, the pack of them, but even they valued their skins more than Vox’s mad revenge plots.

Unless…

There was always the possibility that Vox was biding his time until the children were born so they wouldn’t be a concern.  Once they were out of Alastor’s body, then Alastor’s body was fair game once again.  It was still insane, but less so, which made it more plausible as a possible course of action.  Vox was a kicked dog and he would holler, Alastor was sure of that, but when ?

It would be catastrophic if Vox waited until after the children were born.

Alastor hadn’t stalked or fought in months and he was already somewhat weakened from working to ensure he carried his two children to term.  His body would need to recover from childbirth and he’d be a sitting duck if he didn’t start honing his senses again and soon.  The Radio Demon would not be caught on the back foot - not by that jumped up, plasma-headed pissant.  Not by anybody.

He wouldn’t leave his children without a maman.

Sighing, Alastor shed his outer layers until he was standing in his bayou wearing only a sleek crimson turtleneck and the maternity trousers he’d selected for the day, hooves bare and arms free to move.  He clicked his fingers and his shadow simulacrum oozed up from the darkness by his feet, wrapping affectionate claws over his shoulders and chittering away in his ear.  Indulgently, Alastor reached to pat the shadow’s cheek and felt it nuzzle into him.

“Yes, yes, good to see you too, beastie.  Now then! Come along.  We have work to do,” he declared, waving his hand and feeling as his radio cane dropped into it.

Peeling itself away from his back, his Shadow circled until they were face to face, head tipped to the side in curiosity.  The creature was an expression of Alastor’s more instinctive qualities, so on occasion he still needed to explain his higher thoughts to it.

“A bit of a training session, my good fellow! Sparring, like we used to do!” 

His Shadow’s glowing eyes narrowed slightly and it pointed a claw at his stomach, accusatory.

“No time to rest, I’m afraid.  There’s a game being set up for us, old friend, and I refuse to be caught at the table with a bad hand,” Alastor explained, literally warring with his own instincts.

The Shadow looked unsure still, but bits of Alastor’s need began to register across their connection, his anger and his determination that he wouldn’t be gotten the best of.  His Shadow understood that much quite easily.  It gave him another low chitter before brandishing its claws and sinking into a hunting prowl.

That was more like it.

~*~

Lucifer sat at his desk in the palace, watching the sun go down and idly holding a half-remembered paper between his fingers.

He loathed this work - the digging through official documents he only half cared about, trying to pick his way through legalese that he really shouldn’t have HAD to care about, and getting things squared away that hadn’t seen the light of day in years .  He hated it so very much, but he was determined to do it.  He craved that certain way Alastor looked at him when he actually played his part as king like he was something remarkable…like he mattered.  Like the Sinner was proud of him.

Alastor loved him best when he owned his crown and not the other way around, so by Father he was going to own it.

It just…all had to be done before the babies were born.

The Devil sighed happily and moved the paper to the appropriate stack to be transported to the hotel, thinking about his growing family.

It was the most special part of Lucifer’s day, walking into the nursery he and Alastor had made for the twins to find his prickly lover sitting peacefully in his rocking chair and gazing out the window.  There was a different quality to the Alastor who existed in those private moments, contemplative and patient.  It wasn’t that he was a different person, no, but it was…well…it was like seeing the flip side of his worst qualities.

When pressed, Alastor was like a lurking spider and he could wait for months just to let the axe fall when and where it wanted to.  Merciless forbearance.  Yet when he had the opportunity for peace, that vicious perversion of virtue became a sort of serenity.

When harried, Alastor was viciously bloody-minded and endlessly contrarian…a fact Lucifer knew all too well.  However, in those moments of quiet it became a sort of austere assuredness.  He knew what was right for his children and he wouldn’t waver.

His malicious creativity for torment had a playful side that included no blood at all when he was truly content.  

His cutthroat pragmatism kept him focused on what was most practical for the future rather than who needed culling.

His brutal manic phases became something constructive when there weren’t imagined knives at his back.

It was all the same man with the same mind and the same skin, but it was a privilege to bear witness to the person Alastor could be when he felt protected.  Lucifer would never fool himself into saying something asinine like pregnancy had tamed the Radio Demon.  Hell, he wouldn’t say Alastor was tamed at all (and he wouldn’t like him that way, besides), but it was a gift to see the facets hiding under the sharp edges…the man at the heart of the monster.

Sometimes it was like wrestling with a bear trap to get him to admit if something was bothering him, but when he finally unlocked his teeth and actual honesty fell out?

Lucifer slid his signet off and placed it safely in its box, considering it for a moment.

Alastor had thought he still wore his wedding ring, or that he had one at all.  He’d driven himself half crazy with the idea that Lucifer was using him as a placeholder for Lilith.  That had very nearly been a fight, but in the end Lucifer had learned something Alastor had been subconsciously screaming at him for months.

The Radio Demon was used to being discarded.

He was used to being unwanted.

He was so accustomed to it in fact that being defiantly unlovable was a core value that he’d crafted his entire self around.  He had become an unspeakable horror for the express purpose of being uniquely uncomfortable to be around.  If no one wanted to be around him, then no one could push him away.  He was a proud bastard, and he would be the one to do the pushing.  People ran screaming from Alastor and he liked it that way because it meant he controlled what became of his relationships.

Yet he had let Lucifer in and had spent months dealing with the anxiety that came of not being in control.  He’d hovered at the edge of fully committing to this romance of theirs because he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Lucifer to leave, for someone to take him away.

Fuck, and why wouldn’t he feel that way? Apparently the man’s own father had hated him enough that it left literal scars on his soul-stuff that leaked through his radio aura in times of distress.

Despite being a powerful Overlord, the man only seemed to have a single real friend to his name.

It had been jarring for Lucifer to realize because the idea of ever not being with Alastor had never entered his mind.  Waking up with the Sinner in his bed, heavy and languid, made it infinitely easier to face the mornings.  Knowing when he returned home he’d find the mother of his future children relaxing in the nursery made him ten times more eager to work.  They’d happened fast, sure, but hadn’t he and Lilith been the same?

Fuck, at least no newborn species had been doomed by him and Alastor getting together. 

Honestly, with the babies right around the corner it was probably time for Lucifer to make some serious decisions about their future…with Alastor, of course.

Ugh, his thoughts were wandering.

Lucifer closed the box that held his ring with a click and stood from his desk.

That was enough of that.  

He wanted to see Alastor and all of his children.  He’d gotten enough work done today and the rest would wait.  It was time to go.

Lucifer stood from his desk with the newly sorted armful of papers that would go to his office at the hotel and clicked open a portal back to his daughter’s passion project.  All it took was a flex of will and the literal layers of reality peeled away in an effervescent swirl of red and gold to reveal the foyer of the hotel rather than his room.  Without a second thought, he sauntered through his nifty little rabbit hole in the cosmos, boots touching down on tile and ears full of the hustle and bustle of the lobby.

Charlie was presiding over what appeared to be a game night, her expression a little strained.  It looked like Husk was, true to form, gleefully cheating his way through a game of Go Fish (somehow…) and one of the newer Sinners was rapidly reaching the end of their rope over it.  Normally disagreements like these were eventually solved by either Vaggie or Alastor, but Charlie was giving it her best shot.

Lucifer chuckled as she did the equivalent of negotiating with a faulty nuclear warhead, warmly wondering who she’d gotten that from.

Banishing his papers to his room and slipping his hands into his pockets, the king made his way over and made sure to call out merrily, “Charlie! Having a game night?”

“Oh! Hi, dad!” Charlie said with a smile that looked more like a cringe, “Yeaaaah, we were playing some games aaaaaand working on conflict resolution!”

She held up both of her pointer fingers like a conductor before pressing the fingertips together, “That said…I sent Vaggie up to maybe see if she could find Alastor and she hasn’t come back yet.  Could you…dad, could you do me a huge solid and find one of them for me?”

“Sure thing, sweetie,” Lucifer said, looking at the troublemaking Sinner out of the corner of his eye and letting just a lick of hellfire show, “But I think things are about to settle down in here, aren’t they?”

There was a chorus of meek murmurs that made Lucifer want to preen.

Still got it.

Charlie let out a relieved sigh and a far more genuine smile split her cherubic features, “I appreciate it, dad.”

“No problem, duckling.  See you at dinner tonight?”

His daughter nodded enthusiastically and boy if that didn’t just do funny things to his heart.  His daughter excited about seeing him more than once in a day, what a world.  But…he had to find Alastor.  Turning towards the stairs, Lucifer didn’t allow himself to feel disappointed yet.  There was probably a perfectly good reason why Alastor couldn’t be found…no reason to believe he’d broken their compromise and vanished somewhere.  He hadn’t done that in months.

Maybe he was napping in their room and Vaggie just couldn’t get past their new wards? No, Lucifer was sure he’d coded them to allow her and Charlie at least.

Vaggie had a master key to Alastor’s office, so probably not there.

Huh, maybe his old rooms then? Lucifer hadn’t dreamed of asking Alastor to formally move in, so his old quarters still existed.  He might have decided to take a walk in his bayou…getting exercise while still keeping to their arrangement.    Father, hopefully.

Destination decided on, Lucifer veered up the stairwell towards Alastor’s ‘wing’ of the Hotel and felt his face falling when he hit the landing that led to his lover’s radio tower to find Vaggie standing frustratedly outside of his door.  Her arms were locked in an unhappy knot across her chest and she was frowning in a mix of exasperation and annoyance.  She hadn’t noticed him yet.

“Alastor, come on! Charlie’s asking for you!” She said and it sounded strangled like she was trying not to let her normal distaste for Alastor give way to yelling at a pregnant person.

There was total silence from the other side of the door.

Not really wanting to startle his future daughter in law, Lucifer cleared his throat softly and watched as a single yellow eye turned to him, all of Vaggie’s guff immediately draining out of her, “Oh…sir.”

“Hey kiddo, Everything alright?”

“...I don’t know.  I know Alastor’s in there, but he’s not answering me and he’s got the door warded so I can’t come in.  I don’t know what’s going on,” she grumbled, warring between worry and frustration.

Lucifer gave her an encouraging smile, “Tell you what, why don’t you go back down to game night and I’ll take care of Alastor? Looks like one of the new guys is losing his cool a bit.”

Vaggie swore colourfully under her breath and immediately turned to go, summoned like a loyal hound to his daughter’s side, “Thank you, sir.”

Good kid.

Only once she’d vanished down the stairs did Lucifer turn back to the door, reaching out with a single claw to carefully unravel the wards that had been put up around it.  They parted like fine cotton under his influence and the door clicked open at his will, allowing him in.  Well, if the door was warded, then Alastor was definitely in there, which was a load off of Lucifer’s shoulders.  The question was why he’d ward his door in the first place.

Stepping past the threshold and closing the door back behind him, Lucifer blinked at the sight that waited for him.

Beyond the more ‘civilized’ portion of the room (if you could call Alastor’s particular decorative flair particularly civilized), there was a sprawling bayou that was really quite impressive if you considered the spellcraft that went into its creation.  It wasn’t every day a Sinner could just build their own pocket dimension, but of course Alastor had done it.  More interesting for the time being though was the movement drawing Lucifer’s attention in that very same bayou.

Before his very eyes, there was the equivalent of an arcane flashbang and the heavy thud of a body hitting a tree.  Well…not a body.  Not really? It was Alastor’s little Shadow Self, hissing and spitting as it slammed hard into a cypress tree before coming up screeching.  It looked…wow, it looked exhausted.  Lucifer had never seen the creature look so beaten down and immediately his worry rose.

He let out a low whistle, “Hey.”

The creature’s head snapped up and it let out a trill, immediately going incorporeal and slithering across the ground to wrap itself around his calves like an affectionate cat.  It made whispery, unhappy noises while it nuzzled his knee and tugged at his trousers.

“It’s okay, it’s okay… where’s Al?”

Lucifer hadn’t expected the shadow to give him an annoyed look before pointing an accusing claw into the bayou from whence it had been thrown.

Stalking out of the underbrush (staggering, really) was just the man he’d been looking for, looking significantly more disheveled than he’d left him that morning.  Alastor was fumbling on his feet and absolutely drenched in sweat, ears pinned back and a hand protectively cupped under his stomach.  His chest was heaving and his eyes were hazy, a small cut on his cheek lazily dribbling blood.

Immediately, Lucifer’s wings were out and he was shooting across the bayou, his instincts on high alert at the sight of his battered, tired mate.  Alastor startled when he appeared before him, but Lucifer barely registered it, gathering him up into his arms and breathing the scent of him in deeply.  What in Hell was going on out here?!

“Habibi,” he said and his voice was a growl, eyes gone red and teeth sharp as knives in his mouth, “What happened?”

Had someone attacked his mate?

He let out an confused chirp when Alastor rested hands on his chest to push him back, “Luci dear, at ease.”

“Someone hurt you,” Lucifer said, nosing over his skin to see if he could find the scent of the interloper.

All he could detect was the stink of sweat and the special scent that was only Alastor, Alastor, Alastor.

“No one hurt me, Lucifer, please calm yourself.  Goodness, what time is it? Surely you weren’t summoned all the way from the palace,” Alastor said, sounding perfectly unruffled if utterly wrung out.

Lucifer stared at his lover, utterly out of his depth, “You’re bleeding. What is going on here?”

Alastor swiped the back of a hand across his cheek and the little cut was already healed as he tried to be as offhanded as possible, “It’s nothing to worry your head over, ti zanj.  Just a bit of training.”

“Training,” Lucifer said, flat and incredulous.

“Just so.”

“Alastor, you’re seven months pregnant.  What do you need to train for?” He asked, not understanding what was going on in his mate’s fluffy head and trying to get himself back under control.  

“The real question,” Alastor countered, “Is why I allowed myself to stop training for so very long in the first place.  Rather silly of me to get so rusty with so much at stake.”

He sounded unaffected, but that was a smokescreen with a guy like Alastor.

Something had gotten to him.

Father, he looked pale and shaky.  How long had he been at this? A long time judging by how very vexed the Shadow looked.

Drawing his wings in close to his back out of their defensive position, Lucifer sighed and decided that Alastor could afford to be a little mad at him.  Carefully, he leaned to scoop his lover up against his chest in a bridal carry, barely listening to the annoyed hiss that earned him.  It wasn’t much of a protest considering how quickly Alastor’s tired muscles gave in to slump against him.  That was the way with him…his mind was ready for a fight long after his body wanted to throw in the towel.

“Really, Lucifer, this is unnecessary,” Alastor huffed.

“Is it? I come home after a full day and find you sweating and half wrecked after locking yourself in your bayou.  You’re sparring at seven months pregnant.  How long have you been at this?” Lucifer said firmly and walked the man to his bed, laying him out on the handmade covers.

Tellingly, Alastor made no attempt to rise, thumping his head back against the pillows in protest instead.

“Surely it’s not the end of the day already?” He countered.

“It is,” Lucifer said, reaching to brush his hair back from his brow, “And don’t think you’re getting out of telling me what you were up to in here.  You scared me.”

He watched as Alastor’s ears flickered, “...That wasn’t the intention, dear.”

“Then what was?”

~*~

Alastor’s entire body was screaming at him.

His muscles were full of tremors and his stomach was cramping unpleasantly, clammy sweat matting his fur.  He hadn’t meant to lose track of time like this.  It was just…

Once he’d started working, he became aware of how slow he’d become over the months of relative peace and quiet…how soft and complacent he’d gotten.  His reflexes had gone dull, his stamina was sharply depleted, and it was harder to summon his magic for more grandiose displays.  His center of gravity made him far clumsier than he was comfortable with and all he could envision was failure.

He pushed himself every time he found himself slipping because if he failed in a fight with Vox it would mean so much more than some public humiliation.

If he was too slow to dodge a strike, he would die and leave his children without maman.

If he fumbled and failed to land a killing blow, he might leave Lucifer without a partner.

If he wasn’t strong enough when the time came and Vox finally made his move, it could end in torture and imprisonment that would take him away from his family just as surely as a second death would.

Family.

It was the first time he’d admitted to himself that what he actually had weren’t two future children and a lover, but a family .  

It had terrified him.  So he fought harder and punished himself for every failure because Vox wouldn’t be so kind to him if push came to shove.  He had no idea yet what his old enemy was planning, but he had to be ready for whatever it was.  His Shadow had tried to stop him after a point, but in response Alastor had grown more vicious, fought harder, and pushed until the other half of himself was forced to rally.

Apparently he’d spent an entire day tearing himself apart and now there was his king in his demonic glory and he had to answer to him.

He sighed and felt Lucifer’s hands smooth down his arms, surely picking up the fine tremors in his limbs, “...I became complacent after the Overlord Meeting.  There were no reprisals after you made your display and then I became so consumed with preparing for the children that I failed to keep on my toes.  I’ve grown fat, slow, and weak.  Stupid as well.  I know better than to believe a lack of immediate reprisals means the matter is settled entirely.”

Above him, Lucifer’s vibrant scarlet eyes softened back down to their normal gold and he sat down at the edge of the bed, his tension beginning to dissipate, “Al…you aren’t any of those things.  You’re pregnant .”

“War doesn’t care if I’m with child or not, Lucifer,” Alastor tried to reason with him.

His lover sighed and leaned to press their foreheads together, “Alastor, we’re not at war.  Nobody’s at war.  Not even Heaven has made a peep in over a year.”

“Overlords are at war every day and I am very foolish to have forgotten it.”

“...What spooked you so bad, habibi?” Lucifer asked, moving to lie on his side next to Alastor on the bed, “Did someone threaten you?”

“No,” Alastor replied honestly, though he refrained from saying anything further.

After all, if he told Lucifer about his concerns with Vox, there would be no stopping the king from interceding to protect them and Alastor couldn’t tolerate that.  If he was seen as too weak to defend himself, then there would be a target on his back forever long after his children had grown.  Either that or he would become nothing more than the Devil's kept boy in Hell's eyes...a token breeder and not the Radio Demon.  Besides, it wasn’t precisely a lie considering Vox hadn’t threatened him yet .  He was just preparing for the day that he might .

“I’m simply aware that I will be far more feeble than usual once I’ve given birth to twins and I need to be able to defend them and myself.”

Lucifer laid a hand on his stomach, “You keep forgetting that I’m here for all three of you.”

Alastor sighed and let his eyes close, “I haven’t, but this is Hell, darling.  We must both be vicious in our own right if we hope to survive.  Here, listen…say for instance someone wished to cripple you.  Or say Heaven did finally choose to strike once more.  Say that both Charlie and I were in peril and you could only preserve one of us.  What would you do? Who would you attempt to save?”

Stunned golden eyes locked with his, “...Habibi…”

“The answer should, of course, be Charlie because I should be expected to stand on my own two feet as an Overlord and the partner of the king.  I should be able to fight for my own life as I have done every day of my existence before meeting you.  I am your lover, not a millstone around your neck,” Alastor explained, sinking a little further into his bed while his babies squirmed in protest for what he’d put them through.

“And,” Alastor added tiredly as a wing draped protectively over him, “I will endure simply so my children never need to feel the agony of losing a mother.”

“Okay…” Lucifer sighed out, “But you’ve got to be realistic too, Al.  You’re carrying two kids around inside of you and they’re going to slow you down.  They have celestial blood, which might dampen your magic until they’re born.  You can’t push yourself to breaking like this.”

Well, that was a disturbing point Alastor hadn’t considered.

His children were half-angel and he knew that much, but he hadn’t thought about what their latent divinity would do to his wholly dark magic.  No wonder he’d been weaker lately, even with regular meals of Lucifer’s flesh.  His babies were literally draining him and blunting his proverbial teeth.  Oh, the folly of it all…how was he meant to defend them if they prevented him from being the apex predator he’d been before their conception?

Trying to save face, Alastor said, “Please tell me you won’t begin hovering now.”

Lucifer was contemplative in his silence for a moment before he replied, “...I won’t lie.  I want to.  You scared the hell out of me just now, but this was an accident and I don’t want to stress you out more by treating you like an invalid.  Just…promise me you’ll be careful in the future?”

“Simple enough,” Alastor acquiesced, grateful that his lover wouldn’t begin policing his comings and goings out of a sense of unnecessary concern.

“Just listen to Shadow next time, okay?” Lucifer pressed and Alastor was determined to punish his traitorous simulacrum somehow.  The damned thing was going to be impossibly smug after this.  He could already feel it.

Nevertheless, he nodded because really his lover was being quite reasonable.

It seemed to be the correct response because Lucifer released the last of his anxious rigidity, fully melting into his side with a contented sound, “Okay.  Okay.” and then he nuzzled a little closer, his muscular heat doing wonders to sooth Alastor’s aching body, “Wow, you probably need a real meal tonight after all of this.”

“Are you offering?” Alastor asked with interest, eyes fluttering closed.

“Yeah, I promised to meet Charlie at dinner, but after?” 

Alastor’s body sang at the promise of some of the best flesh in this or any market and he breathed out, “Sounds lovely.  Do take your time, dear.  I believe I’m going to require a short rest and a bath while you’re downstairs.”

“Aw, taking a bath without me?” 

Ugh, Alastor could hear the playful leer in his voice and he raised a hand to push his lover’s face away.

Lucifer laughed softly and snuggled back up to him, utterly unbothered by being rebuffed, “Point taken.  But before you drift off, can I put something in your head? You don’t need to have an answer for me today, but with only two months left we should start making plans.”

“Hmmm?” Alastor asked, attention refocusing.

“The babies,” Lucifer began, reaching up to run his hand rhythmically through Alastor’s hair, carefully skirting his antlers, “How do you want to handle presenting them to Court?”

Alastor’s eyes flickered open and he stared up at the ceiling as the question sunk in past his aches and exhaustion, “Ah.”

“Yeah,” Lucifer said into the place between his shoulder and neck, “They’re going to be heirs of Hell, after all, so the Sins and the Goetia at least need to meet them.  Frankly, I’d like for them to be presented to the Overlords as well just so they know exactly who not to touch in the future, but I’ll defer to you on that.”

“...You do realize you will be making quite a striking announcement when you present our children to the ruling powers of Hell?” Alastor said, busy brain fighting hard against the weight of his body after what he’d put it through, "Perhaps more striking than you intend, that is."

“What’s that?”

“Lucifer, if you present two new children from another parent to the Goetia and your Sins, you will be telling them all with great finality that you have moved on from your queen.  It’s rather more of a ‘political bombshell’ than I think you’re anticipating.”

Lucifer slid an arm over his middle, pulling him close, “I mean…I have moved on.  We’ve established that. Lils and I will always have our history, but I’m ready to tell the Court once and for all that the throne is empty.”

“And that doesn’t strike you as a precipitously large move?” Alastor queried.

“What’s the alternative, Al?” Lucifer asked, his voice more testing than truly questioning, though not quite confrontational yet, “Children don’t just appear in Hell…”

“You’ll find that they do.”

“Ugh,” the king grunted but made no move to withdraw from clinging to his lover like a limpet, “Please don’t remind me of one of the single most depressing things I’m responsible for when I’m trying to plan for our babies’ futures.  If you’re not ready to talk about it, be normal and just tell me you need more time to think instead of poking me.”

Alastor was sorely tempted to bite him then, both for sussing him out yet again and for the affront.

Instead he simply took a deep breath and hissed through his teeth, “...Very well.  I would appreciate more time to think, then.  I need to consider the ramifications of any move we intend to make where the children are concerned.”

Lucifer kissed his clothed shoulder and it almost made up for being too clever by half, “Okay, thank you.  Are there any concerns you want to discuss immediately or…?”

Alastor kept his eyes closed this time while he dissected his own thoughts.  On the one hand, he wanted his children legitimized.  It was the only political protection they would have in a world that was designed to destroy.  But…it was also a world filled with his enemies and presenting the children to Hell would mean presenting them to all of them.  After all, there was no way Alastor could be left out of the discussion as their mother and Lucifer’s current paramour, so it would be announcing to all and sundry that the twins were his.  Not that he’d wish to be kept in the shadows.  His pride wouldn’t tolerate that.

Yet at the same time, what would the Goetia and Sins say when they learned that Lucifer’s new children were begotten with a Sinner with a pedigree somewhat more questionable than Lilith’s? Alastor had spent his youth being judged for his ‘diluted’ bloodlines and the idea of that awaiting his firstborn…

No.  It was too much to think about today.

“No,” he finally said and put on his Big Boy Trousers long enough to admit, “I have concerns, but I need time to sort through them, if you don’t mind.  Go to dinner with Charlie and leave me to collect my thoughts, if you would.”

Lucifer nodded against his shoulder, “Alright.  I won’t be long, sweetheart.  Relax and take a bath, then I’ll come back and we’ll get you fed too.  Any opinions on the cuts for the night?”

“Hmmm…nothing cooked, if you please.  If you’re amenable, I would like to eat directly from the source.”

Rather than scoff or withdraw, Lucifer just leaned to kiss his forehead agreeably, “Sure, sounds good.  Can you do me a favour and avoid the lungs this time, though?”

“Easily done.  You snored something dreadful last time while you were in the process of regrowing them and I’ve no interest in sleeping next to that again,” Alastor teased, his mood lifting when his lover kept his word and allowed him the requested time to think.

“So cruel to me, habibi, “ Lucifer said with a smile in his voice, finally pulling himself out of bed and setting his boots on the floor.

“You love it,” Alastor said lightly and raised a hand to wave the door open from where he lay on the bed.

The fallen angel paused for a minute in his path across Alastor’s living quarters and the Sinner could just make out the sound of him turning back to the bed to regard him.  He inhaled like he wanted to say something and Alastor swore he could feel those ancient eyes on him.  But at last, Lucifer let out one of those little amused sounds of his and continued to the door.

“Yeah, guess I do.”

~*~

In the dark of the night, the rest of the hotel had finally settled.

Lucifer had long since retreated to Alastor’s rooms after making the decision that he wanted his lover in a comfortable space after the day he’d had.  The stag had gotten cleaned up and they’d gotten good food into him (he’d contented himself with liver and a few choice selections of thigh muscle).  Now both slept curled in one another’s arms in the soothing, sepulchral dark of the carefully curated museum piece that was Alastor’s quarters, serenaded by the creak of unseen crickets found nowhere else in Hell.

Charlie and Vaggie had turned in an hour or two after dinner and the rest of the residents had shuffled off in their own time until only two lone sentinels were left standing guard over the quiet lobby.

Angel had once again fetched up at Husk’s bar where the chimera was currently working through a nightcap and shutting down operations.  Angel was toying with the rim of a cosmopolitan, watching the play of Husk’s strong fingers as he wiped down a shot glass.  There was an unhurried air to every motion, the former Overlord surprisingly fastidious about his tasks when he was unobserved by the higher-ups.  Angel could get that…the weaponized incompetence.  

Sometimes it was the only way guys like them got their licks in.

Angel was under no illusions.  He and Smiles might be getting along fine these days, but the guy was still a dyed-in-the-wool nutjob who owned his maybe-sorta-boyfriend’s soul.  He didn’t judge all the little ways Husk needled his boss.  Everyone in this fucking eternal prison sentence had more layers than a damn onion and a lot of things could be true about a person at once.

For instance, Alastor could be a wildly insecure, unstable psychopath and still be a kitten when it came to the Big Boss.  He could be a doting expectant mother and a malicious asshole.  He could appreciate Husk’s company and be keeping him a slave out of convenience.

Layers, man.

Husk was the same.

The guy was an inveterate cheat at cards and about the sloppiest drunk Angel had seen outside of his family reunions back in the day, but when he dried up he was knowledgeable and shockingly precise about a whole lot of things.  He resented the shit out of Alastor, but still felt this compulsion to look after him in his own fucked up way.

Angel took a sip of his cosmo and hissed through his teeth.  Man, he hated when it was quiet.  His brain actually started making sense and he hated that shit because then it meant he started thinking about everything else.

Luckily, Husk saved him with a raised eyebrow and a low, “Somethin’ botherin’ you, Legs?”

“Just turnin’ into an old man thinkin’ too much at the bar.  Don’t worry about it,” Angel demurred, waving his maybe-sorta-boyfriend off.

Husk grinned in that damn sexy way of his and said, “Hate to tell you this, kid, but we are old.  Al’s only got you beat by, what, a decade? Now c’mon.  What’s goin’ on in that head?”

“I dunno.  It’s stupid.”

“Probably, but I know if you keep turnin’ it over up there it’s gonna get too loud,” Husk shrugged.

Angel appreciated that more than he cared to admit.  Husk knew that noise in his head usually led to a bump which sometimes led to a bender.  He also knew that Angel had been working his ass off to get clean, so he was finding the little ways to keep him on the straight and narrow (maybe not all that straight, but eh).

“Fine.  I guess…why do we keep gettin’ ourselves in trouble carin’ about dickheads like Smiles? I was thinkin’ about it and like…I dunno.  It feels like this is how I got myself in the shit with Val…tryin’ to see the man under the monster and forgettin’ there’s a monster there,” Angel told him, kicking his legs idly.

Husk stared at him for a long minute before putting his shot glass down and reaching for his beer, taking a long pull.  His yellow eyes were keen, like he was probing all the angles of the question and figuring out the best answer.  It was another reason Angel liked these nights.  When he didn’t have his defenses up, Husk could actually be pretty measured about the shit he said…blunt, but thoughtful.

“Mind if I ask why this is on your mind tonight?” He started.

The spider sighed heavily and slumped, “Dunno.  Guess I’ve just been friendlier with your boss lately and I’ve been worryin’ about him.  And then I’ll stop and realize how fuckin’ stupid it is to worry about that smilin’ buzzsaw just because he acts a little human sometimes.  Like, he owns you.  But then you act worried about him whenever he’s not pissin’ you off and I just don’t get why we do shit like this to ourselves.”

Husk hummed in understanding, “Al’s got a way of gettin’ under your skin if you give him time.  He doesn’t even do it intentionally, the emotionally constipated fuck.  You just start to see under the veneer.”

Angel cocked his head, “How d’ya mean?”

“It’s like this,” Husk said, coming around the bar to lean next to Angel, “Alastor banks a lot of social cred on being three steps ahead of everyone else, right? Well, that and being a deer-shaped Molotov cocktail, but you get my point.  But that shit doesn’t just happen .  Al is so high strung he twangs when the wind blows.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

Husk chuckled, “It means that the kind of information he uses to stay ahead doesn’t come cheap or easy and it keeps him…I dunno if anxious is the right word, but definitely tense and antsy.  He’s also just as likely to outsmart himself as he is the next guy.  Add that to the fact that he buys his own hype? He’s a danger to himself and I worry about the guy.”

“I guess…but wouldn’t it be easier for you if he bought the farm?” Angel asked, not really liking the shape of the question in his own mouth and really curious about why that was.

“If all I was worried about was easy? Yeah.”

“Ain’t you?”

The chimera shook his head and tapped the mouth of his beer bottle against his lips (which was distractingly hot for some stupid reason), “Nah.  Lookin’ for easy outs is what got me on Al’s leash in the first place.  Look, I can’t tell you if it’s some fucked up Stockholm bullshit or whatever, but bein’ in Al’s orbit for as long as I have? It’s like…”

Husk set his bottle down and turned back to Angel, holding up both hands to illustrate the point he wanted to make, “First up, Al ain’t like Val.  Yeah, they’re both shitbag overlords who yank poor schmucks like us around for fun and yeah, they both earned their tickets down here, but similarities end there, dig? Like you said, you got lured in by seein’ the man behind Val’s monster, but once he got you, did you see more man or more monster?”

“That an actual question?” Angel said dryly.

“Figured,” Husk nodded and waggled his other hand, “Al’s the opposite of that.  Guy’s pure monster from the front and he likes it that way, but you get stuck in with him and you start to see where it all breaks down.  Val surrounds himself with yes men and lackeys, but Al? Outside of Rosie, he’s got nobody.  Imagine livin’ over a hundred years not trustin’ anyone, barely sleepin’ because you’ve got to keep ahead of the pack, and everythin’ - literally everythin’ - that you do has to be some grand performance.  Guy’s been stripped down to bones and teeth at this point…just a mean-ass junkyard dog who’s gotta bite first before he gets bitten.”

Angel rolled his eyes, “You’re not sellin’ me here, Husky.  Guys like you’n’ me gotta play those games and we don’t get anythin’ to show for it except another shitty day in Hell.”

“Not sayin’ he’s a saint, kid, just why I’ve got complicated feelings about the guy…and maybe why you do too.  You’re startin’ to see where the mask cracks.”

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense…” Angel puffed a breath to clear his fringe from his eyes, “I sorta wanna shake him these days."

“That’s me every day, so welcome to the club,” Husk said, “but why only these days?”

Angel leaned an elbow on the bar, “Cause he’s gettin’ a happy endin’ that losers like us dream of an’ he’s not lettin’ himself have it.  Guy’s literally got the King of Hell on his arm willin’ to give ‘im the world, he’s got kids on the way, all the power of an Overlord, but here he is still sorta tapdancin’ around the whole thing.  He's better than he was, but still feels like part of him is shut up tighter than a virgin at a church social.”

“And that’s why I worry about him,” Husk said, poking a finger into the bar for emphasis, “Al is his own worst fuckin’ enemy.  He’d burn the damn world down just to protect himself from gettin’ hurt, but then he’ll do dumb shit like throwing himself at the First Man to prove whatever insane point he feels like he needs to make.  That, and…”

“And…?” Angel leaned in.

“I guess I remember how it feels to fall from grace.  Wasn’t so bad for me in the end.  Sure, Al’s volatile, but I didn’t have many enemies ready to eat my face once I was off the pedestal.  Alastor though? Bein’ torn to shreds would be the nicest way for him to end if he got knocked out of the game.”

Next to him, Angel shuddered as that point landed, “...Yeah.  I get the feelin’ Vox’d wreck him in ways Smiles wouldn’t recover from.”

“Vox still makin’ moves?” Husk asked, growing serious.

The spider reached for his drink just to have something to do with his hands, “Yeah, Al and I talked about it this mornin’.  It’s not…he ain’t doin’ anythin’ right now, and that’s the problem.  It’s quiet.  That ain’t ever a good thing.”

“Kid?” Husk finally said as he picked up his beer once more, “You better hope that box-headed jackass is layin’ low and not makin’ plans.  If he pulls somethin’ that puts the boss or those kids in danger? We’re all double-dead.”

~*~

Crisp, patent-leather shoes clicked across the immaculate marble steps at the front of the currently disused Heaven Embassy.  

Contrary to popular belief, Sinners could, in fact, make their way in whenever they chose.  Many just didn’t choose to because…well…there were severe punishments in place for interlopers.  Not to mention, the holy radiance of the place tended to ward off the degenerates who’d otherwise see an empty building as the ultimate crash pad when the acid rains made living rough untenable.  Besides, it wasn’t like it was exactly the safest place to be historically during the Exterminations.  The whole embassy was a bit of an Exclusion Zone for normal Sinners, enough at least that they'd never had to outright ward them off.

The lone figure strolled into the main doors and felt the immediate press of divine energy probing at them, urging them back out.  They ignored the discomfort and sidled up to the main desk, making sure to follow protocol so nobody Up There could take offense.  When a golden scroll unfurled itself before them, they dutifully signed in and watched as it coiled itself back up into nothingness.

The air of the sprawling, empty antechamber was loaded and the lone figure felt like a million eyes were watching, waiting to see what they wanted.  That was fine.  They enjoyed an audience.  

Grinning like a shark, they looked up to the ceiling and purred, “I have some troubling information about Lucifer that I think you should hear.”

Chapter Text

WEEK THIRTY-TWO

“Ah!”

That one had been intense.

Alastor had forgotten how very deep Lucifer could work in him in this position.

At present, the Radio Demon was arranged on his knees in the tangled sheets of the bed he shared with Lucifer, gripping the headboard in one hand and cupping his pregnant belly with the other.  He was sweating through his thin pelt, flanks shivering while the king thrust vigorously against his rump.  Behind him, Lucifer let out a proud grunt, adjusting his grip so one hand locked around the bony crest of his stag’s left hip, the other tangled with his on the swell of his stomach.

It was a lazy midmorning, the room still pleasantly dim with the curtains drawn while he and Lucifer had a bout of rather enthusiastic sex.  Everything was heat and comfort, fullness and the skittering sparks of pleasure every time the king stroked into his depths.

Alastor had risen that morning to the feeling of want building in his loins and the muscular body of his lover wrapped around him.  The latter was a daily occurrence, the former less frequent but less unwelcome than it had been.  Lucifer was always such a gentleman on the mornings when his paramour awoke in a ‘mood’ - he never pushed for more than Alastor wanted to indulge in and worshiped every inch of him when he allowed it.  So when the Overlord had opened his eyes to a swell of arousal, it had been easy to roll in Lucifer’s arms and kiss him awake.

Lucifer hit a particularly sensitive spot deep inside him and Alastor bit his lower lip, tail giving a delighted wag of stimulation.

“There?” Lucifer panted, leaning forward to nip at the furry edge of his ear.

“Yes,” Alastor sighed, sliding his knees a little wider and tossing his hair, “Right there.”

“Good boy,” his king growled and nailed that spot with unerring accuracy.

Alastor let out a cervine squeak and let his head hang, hips shifting with every thrust into his soft, willing body.  Even now with the birth of their children practically on the doorstep, Lucifer didn’t treat him like a fragile creature in bed.  He was considerate , of course, but there were no kid gloves where Alastor was concerned.

The heat stoking behind Alastor’s navel flared and he hissed, digging his claws into the headboard as Lucifer worked him to a truly devastating orgasm.

He clenched down around the Devil and his lover let out a rumbling chirp, a purely inhuman sound that he’d been getting more and more comfortable about letting free when they were together.  It was rather charming.  Alastor doubted he even realized he was doing it, giving voice to chirps, growls, and odd chitters that were purely Lucifer and not the disarming human affectation he’d likely worn since before the Fall.

This part of him was Alastor’s and Alastor’s alone.

A ragged gasp tore itself from the Sinner’s throat as he came like a sudden firework in a black sky, Lucifer plunging into him and burying his nose into the crook of his shoulder.  A rush of heat flooded Alastor’s depths and he sighed in satisfaction, hips twitching with the aftershocks of their little morning delight.

Lucifer nuzzled up his neck and kissed his cheek, smiling wide against the hinge of his jaw, “Mmm, feel free to wake me up like that as often as you like.”

“Lecher,” Alastor tossed back without heat, uncurling his hand from the headboard.

He shook a few curls of wood loose from beneath his claws.

Carefully, his lover readjusted their position, Lucifer sitting on the mattress with Alastor on his lap, still joined, “Nah.  It’s just you, habibi.”

“Hm,” the Radio Demon hummed, quite content to use the King of Hell as his personal throne while he drifted through the afterglow, “Whatever shall you do once the children are born and my hormones go back to normal?”

For his part, Lucifer didn’t sound terribly concerned, stroking Alastor’s stomach and laying lazy kisses on his nape, “Have less sex.  And sleep.  And free time.”

Because it simply wouldn’t be him without a little bit of acid, Alastor snipped idly, “Just so long as you’re aware.”

Lucifer puffed a laugh against his skin, “You just wake up spicy don’t you, habibi? But Alastor, really…I know you’re not generally interested in this stuff.  I enjoy what we have now, but I enjoy what we had before your body kind of hijacked your brain.  I really won’t be put out once you’re feeling more like yourself.”

Alastor wouldn’t admit how nice that felt…the knowledge that his pregnancy hadn’t set some sort of normally-unattainable bar for their sex life.

He relaxed his weight fully into his king and found himself safely wrapped in strong arms, Lucifer’s chin coming to rest on his shoulder while they luxuriated in a morning that belonged to them only, “For what it’s worth…I feel quite lovely, thank you.”

He could give Lucifer that much.

“I’m glad,” his lover said softly as if he were afraid to break the peace of the moment, “Well…Charlie’s got the residents out on a ‘field trip’ today.  What are you going to get up to with a day off?”

“Nothing much, really.  My ankles flare up something awful if I spend too much time on them these days.  I’ll take a stroll to Rosie’s for a visit and then return.  I should be home for lunch,” Alastor said, not in any hurry to rise.

Lucifer’s arms tightened around him ever so slightly, the only sign he still worried about Alastor going out on his own, “Will you bite me if I offer to escort you?”

A wise question.

Alastor did his lover the courtesy of actually mulling the offer over.  This close to the end of his pregnancy, it really would be unwise to swan around the Pentagram alone - especially when he was still unsure of Vox’s ultimate endgame.  It certainly didn’t hurt that Rosie was rather fond of the king.  However, it did project a certain air of untouchable power to be seen without an escort, to be that unbothered by the many threats of the city…

The Sinner let out a gusty sigh at long last and tapped a claw against the back of Lucifer’s hand, “Goodness knows if I leave you on your own, I’ll come home to a mess and at least five new ducks.  Accompany me.”

His arrogant instincts rankled at the deference to Lucifer’s power, but the safety of his children really had to take precedence over his ego.  

It didn’t hurt that he could feel Lucifer puffing up with pride behind him, pleased as punch that he was being allowed to accompany Alastor on his outing.  Whatever blow the stag had taken to his amour propre by admitting he would like a bodyguard for the walk was more than soothed by Lucifer’s obvious delight at being in his presence.  After all, why shouldn’t Alastor be seen with his paramour since the Overlords had been aware of his condition for months now?

“Guess that means we need to get up and shower, hm?” Lucifer asked.

“Yes, you lazy thing.  Now come along and help me up.”

“Mmmm, but you’re so warm,” the Devil purred, delicately running the noseless plane of his face up and down the long column of his partner’s neck.

Alastor rolled his eyes despite the fact that he didn’t terribly mind the feeling of Lucifer’s manhood sitting soft and warm inside of him.  Perhaps something to explore in the future.  For now, however, there were things to do and he could feel Lucifer’s previous spend beginning to dry in his fur.  

“Yes, and I will be warm later, I’m sure.  However, I’ve more to do today than sit astride your lap like a concubine, ti zanj.  Up,” Alastor said prim as a church lady as if he weren’t currently sitting on the Devil’s prick.

His lover let out a dramatic groan even as gentle hands were already moving to help him as requested and Alastor, for once, didn’t try to suppress the spark of fondness he felt for the theatricality of it all.

~*~

Less than half an hour later and Alastor was strolling down the stairs a few steps ahead of Lucifer, dressed nicely in one of the clingy turtlenecks he’d come to prefer that gave his stomach plenty of space.  He was just adjusting his monocle when something caught his eye, a flash of gold manifesting in the open air of the lobby before floating innocuously down to the floor.  It lay there, a simple golden square resting on the rug as pretty as you please despite the fact that it should not have been there .

“Al?” Lucifer said at his shoulder.

Alastor ignored him and finished descending the stairs before striding off across the lobby to stand before the thing.  It was an envelope, elegant and simple, yet it carried with it an unpleasant, caustic feeling that could be nothing but holy power.  The Overlord recalled that feeling all too well, the scar on his chest aching with a phantom pain that hadn’t been there in over a year.

Well.

That wasn’t good.

Not wanting to embarrass himself by stooping down only to struggle back up like a floundering seal, Alastor waited patiently until Lucifer caught up with him.  The man’s heat appeared at his shoulder like the Sinner’s own personal sun, but it did little to soothe his growing unease.

“Alastor, what’s wrong?” He asked.

Alastor jerked his chin at the envelope, “It seems we’ve received some mail and I’ve every idea it didn’t arrive through the regular post.”

He felt when his king went stiff and then Lucifer was stepping around him to collect the envelope from its place on the floor, pinching it between his claws.  The Devil frowned at the envelope and studied it as if it would reveal its secrets without him having to open it, stroking a thumb over an embossed star on the outside…the only indication of who it was intended for.  The Morning Star himself.

At least it wasn’t meant for dear Charlie.

“Well.  That certainly can’t be good,” Alastor chirped with his usual grating good cheer.

“It never is,” Lucifer sighed and continued to stand apart from him, fiddling with the lip of the envelope before slitting it with his thumb claw, “But let’s see what they have to say anyway.”

“Best to get ahead of any bad news before Charlie returns, yes,” the Radio Demon agreed and he noted the way his king’s eyes softened at the consideration for his daughter…as if it still took him by surprise when Alastor demonstrated any real instinct to protect her.

Foolish man.

Lucifer opened up the envelope and slid out a creamy piece of cardstock, turning it this way and that.  While they both watched, blazing bright letters in perfect calligraphic script scrolled brightly over the paper, appearing in real time.  Alastor was forced to blink the brilliance from his eyes, turning his head away slightly to avoid the sting of holy light.  Whatever hand had laid down the words must have been quite ‘high up’ for their aura to cause him that level of discomfort.

“What does it say?” He asked as casually as you please.

“A meeting,” Lucifer rumbled through gritted teeth, “At the Embassy.  Today.”

Worse and worse by the minute.

Laying a hand over his stomach, Alastor sauntered forward and watched as Lucifer’s fingers twitched like he wanted to keep the divine object away from his lover, “Do you think this is to do with the Exterminations?”

“It better not be,” Lucifer huffed and a thin curl of smoke escaped his lips, “Or if it is, they’d better be meeting me with a fruit basket and a major apology for how things went down last time.”

“Indeed.  However…I feel it wise to entertain the possibility that they’re angling for a far less benevolent discussion.”

“...I know,” the Devil said and reached out with his free hand to snag Alastor, stroking his hip, “Sorry, habibi, but our outing is going to have to wait.  Don’t get angry, but could you stay at the Hotel? I promise I’ll make it up to you, but…if there are angels in the city, I’d rather you be behind our wards.”

Alastor bristled briefly, reasonable request or no, but at last his smile went tight and he sighed, “Very well.  Though I find I dislike the notion of you walking into the lion’s den alone.”

Lucifer huffed and leaned to kiss his hair, “Don’t worry about me, Al.  I’m the support pillar of this whole damn place.  They’d be cutting off their nose to spite their face if they raised a hand to me.”

“And what if I accompanied you ?” Alastor offered, head canting to the side.

His lover winced into the soft place behind his ear, “No.  No, no, no, habibi.  It might be insanity to attack me, but not you.  Please…stay here.”

The urge to be offended grew only until the Overlord registered the pure panic in his king’s voice, nipping the roots of his budding anger where it grew.  This was a deep and primal fear, not some sort of patriarchal alpha male nonsense.  The idea of Alastor walking into the Embassy legitimately frightened him, rattled his nerves down to a place that still remembered a very long fall and a very short stop.

With a monotone hum, Alastor relented, “Very well. I’ll remain at the Hotel for the time being…at least until you banish those celestial cretins back up where they belong.”

“Thank you,” Lucifer breathed and captured his chin to kiss his lips, his mouth tasting of brimstone, “I’ll be back as fast as I can.  Once Charlie comes back, try and keep her calm, okay? Let her know where I am but do not let her panic or she’ll do something…noble.”

“On that count, we are agreed.  Now go.”

Reluctantly, Lucifer pulled himself away and there was something in his shining golden eyes that Alastor didn’t like.  But then he was turning and out the door, willing the heavy aperture closed behind him with a thud and a click before he even descended the steps.  His Sinner stood in the hotel foyer, alone in the wide hall just staring at the door and unconsciously touching his stomach.

He had a bad feeling about the whole affair, but what was he meant to do? 

Alastor wracked his clever brains for an answer and realized he didn’t really have one.  Even before his entanglement with Lucifer, Alastor hadn’t been the sort of insane that gleefully charged out during exterminations, and the one time he’d tried it he’d had his ass roundly handed to him by the First Man.  Angels loose in Hell were no laughing matter and with such precious cargo it wasn’t as if he could simply damn the consequences and do as he pleased.

Not to mention, Lucifer needed to be on his toes for whatever was waiting for him at the Embassy.  Right now, Charlie was the only person they didn’t have an exact location for, but he knew Alastor was safe at home.  It would mean his attention wasn’t split.

It rankled, but it truly seemed like the only thing Alastor could do presently was wait.

Once again, his children needed to be more important than his thrice-damned pride. This thing he had built with the king needed to be held in a place of honour above his damned ego, even when it hurt.

So the feared Radio Demon took a deep breath, turned on his hoof, and retreated to his office.

~*~

The minute Lucifer was out of the hotel, he cursed and looked down once more at the official missive he hadn’t allowed Alastor to read.

He stood on the stoop and stared at the words radiating back at him.  He hated himself.  He had lied to his mate in a split-second decision, but what was he meant to do? 

Heaven hadn’t just asked for him.

They’d demanded Alastor as well and there was no way Lucifer was bringing him in.  What could they possibly want with a Sinner like him? How had they even gotten his name or known that he and Lucifer were associated? It twisted Lucifer’s stomach up in knots and made it hard for him to breathe.  

Not right.  

It wasn’t right.

He tried to soothe himself as he stood on the steps, putting off the inevitable.

Technically, Heaven did have a record of every mortal soul to exist whether they ended up in Heaven or Hell at the end of their road.  Lucifer was also the king, so of course he’d be able to track down any Sinner they wanted and bring them in, yes? Yes.  But…why Alastor ? He was an Overlord, sure, but Heaven didn’t exactly care about them in the grand scheme of things so long as they stayed on their side of the fence.

Father, could it be about Adam? If there was one thing Heaven knew how to keep it was a grudge, but Alastor hadn’t been the one to kill Adam.  That had been the little maid and it had been done after the standing contracts were already violated.  Were they looking for a scapegoat for the death of the First Man? The very idea caused Lucifer to shudder.

There was no way he was letting his partner or his babies into the same room with that rabid pack of executioners.  So he had lied.

He just…he couldn’t…

Lucifer hissed a breath out through his fangs and spread his massive wings, launching himself into the sky on a hellish thermal breeze.  Something wasn’t connecting and he didn’t like that, but if he could just keep Alastor out of it until he knew what was going on, he’d make up for his sin later.  He just couldn’t put his Alastor in danger, not like that, not when the memory of his heat and the warm softness of his pelt as they made love still lingered on Lucifer’s hands like second skin.  Not when they were so close to meeting their children…

Shaking his head to clear it, the fallen angel winged his way across the Pentagram, ignoring the thudding impacts of car crashes and tuning out the sharp reports of nearby gunfire.  Everything faded in his mind while he honed in on the hateful, pristine beacon of the Embassy.  How many awful meetings had he endured there? How many unveiled insults had he been forced to listen to? How many awful mistakes had he made in there?

He hoped he wasn’t going to be asked to make another.

Honestly, he had no idea who he’d even be meeting with at this point considering Adam was gone.  If he was lucky, it would be Sera.  She was a zealot, but one who could be bullied given the right pressure.

If it was someone higher, then there was no telling…

Lucifer had to steady himself before walking in there.

The king landed on the front steps without even a tap of his boots, tucking his wings in tight to his back and giving himself an extra moment to collect his thoughts.  He couldn’t let them put him on the back foot or push him.  He was the master of this fucking terrible circus and too much rested on his shoulders to allow himself to be toppled again.  He had to walk in there and be the king Alastor expected him to be, the king who had been worthy of siring children with him.

Setting steel to his spine, Lucifer raised his chin and strode to the doors, willing them open with a thought as he entered the lobby of the Embassy.  At the main desk, the golden scroll materialized, a passive aggressive little reminder that he was no better than any other prisoner in the dungeon and he was meant to sign in like a good boy.  Lucifer bared his teeth at the thing and watched with some satisfaction as a lick of his hellfire claimed it and crumbled it to ash.  He wasn’t starting this game as their supplicant.

Down the hall, a door opened (damn right it did) and Lucifer altered his course without pausing to enter in.  Now was the time to be arrogant…to be the unquestioned lord of this domain.  

However, it was hard to remember that when he passed through the doors and found himself shunted back through time to the day when a horrific sword smote him low…to a terrible moment in time when he was cast into this pit.

Michael stood waiting for him.

Lucifer’s heart stuttered in his chest and he stared at his sibling in shock.

The Angel before him had been his twin once, moulded from the same cosmic clay like two peas in a pod.  Time and corruption had divided them and looking on the face of his former sibling now was like gazing into a warped mirror.  Their skin was as flawless as his had once been, the cheeks marked with the same doll-like circles as his own.  Michael’s eyes were the same crystalline blue as his had been once, though hard as flint in their doll-like face.  They were small like Lucifer had been only eight months ago, a pint-sized titan of holy energy.

Despite his shorter stature, they stared up at their one-time brother with a complete lack of awe or respect on their perfectly genderless features, “You were prompt.”

“You summoned me,” Lucifer said back, trying to calm the frantic rumba beat of his heart.

“So we did.  Yet, we also compelled you to produce the Sinner known as Alastor and you are alone.  What is the meaning of this?” Michael’s voice was mild and flat as if they weren’t terribly surprised.

Lucifer walked to stand at the opposite end of the long conference table from Michael, “I don’t just ‘produce’ citizens of my realm on a whim, especially not for Heaven.  What’s all this about?”

The faintest dip of consternation appeared between his sibling’s brows, there and gone, “Still questioning our wisdom, Lucifer?”

“Always,” the Devil drawled and tapped his claw on the table, “Why would a single Sinner warrant a visit from an Archangel, by the way? And why on such short notice? Meetings have always been arranged in advance.”

“Brother, let us dispense with games.  You know perfectly well why you were instructed to bring the Sinner.”

“I really don’t,” Lucifer bit out, his wings rustling with anxious energy.

Michael watched him without speaking for a long moment, their eyes as distant and cold as the farthest reaches of space.  At last, they calmly folded their hands behind their back and lifted their chin, “Why must you insist on throwing all of our kindness back in our faces?”

“Kindness?” Lucifer spluttered, taken aback, “What kindness have you or the others ever shown me? I haven’t seen the sun in thousands of years! You locked me in a prison and threw away the key!”

He was confused now.  What did this have to do with Alastor?

“We showed you what kindness was left to us after the crimes you committed against the fledgling race of Man and against those who loved you.  Think you that it was simply convenient that you descended to Hell with your bride? Did you never realize it was our compassion for your sorry lot that drove us to ensure the First Woman was condemned at your side instead of merely being destroyed for overturning Father’s will?”

Lucifer held up his hands and tried to call a halt, but Michael merely raised an eyebrow, “Kindness it was, Lucifer, to give you a Queen.  Kindness to you and mercy to your citizens, for your kingdom would be balanced, ruled by two and not one.  Care you so little for that?”

“Hold on,” the Devil said and rested both fists on the tabletop, knuckle-down, “Hold up.  What does Lils have to do with any of this?”

“She has everything to do with what you’ve done.  You had a queen and a lineage secured that would have ensured whatever paltry peace these Sinners could be granted.  In the chaos and the torment, this at least would be guaranteed.  But you have forsaken your marriage vows to her and muddled the line of succession with another.”

Lucifer’s golden eyes flew wide, bleeding crimson at the edges.  

Oh.

Oh fuck.  They knew .

“This cannot stand, brother, not for your people nor for Heaven.”

His mouth suddenly gone very dry, Lucifer whispered, “I’m going to need you…to back the fuck up for just a second.”

Michael blinked in reply.

“Are you seriously telling me that you dragged me across the Pentagram with no forewarning to pretend that me getting over my wife divorcing me is upsetting to you because…what? The Sinners might be confused? Michael, you literally consigned their souls to Hell and your people were slaughtering them in droves once a year for centuries,” Lucifer said, staring his sibling down, “Stow the noble act.”

His sibling merely stood placidly waiting until he was done before replying, “Very well.  Let us be frank then.  Long have I observed the mortals on Earth, brother, from king to commoner.  I have watched their kingdoms rise and fall.  Think you that Sinners have forgotten your wife simply because she is gone? Think you that your Sins and nobles have no opinions on the matter? Think you that introducing illegitimate heirs to your throne won’t be opening the door to conflict?”

“Still failing to see why you care.”

“Because, Lucifer, unrest in Hell is unrest in Heaven and this we cannot abide,” Michel said with all the finality of an executioner’s axe.

Bad.  Bad, bad, bad.

Lucifer narrowed his eyes at the Angel who had once taken up arms against him, “What do you want with Alastor, Michael?”

“To lance the wound and cleanse it before infection can spread to the whole body.  A bastard child born to the king while his legitimate heir yet lives is unacceptable to the host.”

Wings mantling high and horns breaking free of the skin of his forehead, Lucifer squared his shoulders and stood to his full height, “Leave.  You’re not getting anywhere near him or our children.  Hell's affairs are our own and there are no contracts between us anymore.  Get out.”

Michael sighed and straightened, placing a hand on the sword at their side, “Must you always be so very difficult, Lucifer? This is impractical and I do not wish to fight you.”

“Insulting me and threatening my partner feels like a really good way to start a fight,” the king warned, eyes blazing.

“Why must it always be such grand theatrics with you? Really.  You have options if you’d care to listen,” his sibling said somewhat boredly, “The first of which is, of course, that we put your pet monster down and ensure your lineage is kept tidy.  Clearly, this isn’t something you wish to indulge, so we have prepared for you a second choice.”

“And that is?” Lucifer asked warily, already sizing up the room and looking for his exits in case he needed to go back to the hotel and quickly.

Michael waved their fingers and a neat-looking folio dropped into it from which they produced a contract.

Immediately Lucifer stepped back, “I’m not starting exterminations again.  Charlie would never forgive me.”

“At ease, Lucifer.  This…” Michael tapped a gold-tinted nail on the paper, “is a marriage contract.  It will legitimize Alastor DuBois as your new queen officially and formalize the new bloodline.”

Lucifer’s breath hitched and he stared at the neatly ordered sheet of paper laid out on the table like a serpent prepared to strike, “What…”

“An olive branch that should satisfy both of us, brother.  I think perhaps you are well aware that should it come to blows betwixt us, the cosmos itself would shake.  This runs counter to our Father’s desires. Come and sit.  We have much to review.”

~*~

After about thirty minutes, Alastor had given up on his office.  His mind was wandering and he refused to make a mistake on his paperwork simply because he was distracted.  Better to give it up as a bad job now than have to correct his own errors later on.

He felt foolish.

Why was he so concerned about Lucifer when the man was, simply put, the most powerful creature in Hell? Barring that, Lucifer was one of the most powerful creatures alive .  Full stop.  It had taken an entire host of angels to bring him down last time if the stories were true and this was just a meeting.  Besides, his lover was right and there would be no way to do something as simple-minded as assassinating him without toppling the entire system.

So why was he still so incapable of putting it from his mind? 

What could Heaven want ?

Of course Charlie would be heartbroken if the Exterminations were beginning again, but they’d endured before and they would do so again.

Both of his twins were squirming in his belly and Alastor sighed, knowing perfectly well that the stress couldn’t be doing them any favours.  Perhaps he needed to simply go sit in the nursery for awhile and calm himself while he waited for someone to return home.  He could sit and listen to the radio with his children for perhaps an hour, then maybe go down into the kitchen to keep himself busy.

Mind made up, he was just about to the stairs when his ears swiveled at the sound of the front door to the hotel clattering.  Oh dear.  Perhaps Charlie hadn’t expected to find it locked when she came home.

Goodness, how very overprotective Lucifer was.

Changing course, Alastor ventured down into the main lobby on careful hooves and clicked over to the door, humming, “Charlie dear, you know this wouldn’t happen if you locked the door more often.  You really must get used to having your keys…”

He’d already clicked the lock by the time he detected the frequency on the other side.

By then, it was too late and the door erupted open from the outside, sending him sprawling back onto the tile as his weight got the better of him.  Scrambling to right himself (thank the God who had forsaken him that he’d landed on his back instead of his stomach), Alastor glared up into the doorway to see Vox standing there with a knife-slash grin on his face.

“Alastor…” the Television Demon purred before breaking into a sing-song, “Somebody’s in trouble…”

Foolish.  So foolish.

The wards Lucifer had put up wouldn’t stand when Alastor let the interloper in .

Growling, Alastor reached for his power and found it slithered through his mind’s fingers when he tried to grasp it.  He decided to stall until he could gather himself, “Why, Vox! Rather surprised you’d show your face here after His Majesty made his displeasure with you so well known.”

“His Majesty isn’t here,” Vox simpered, stepping across the threshold to stare down at his rival, “Funny thing, Al-Pal.  Your new boytoy’s wards are impressive, but they’re just on your property.  The minute someone steps off of it, though? My eyes see everything.”

Damnit.  He must have seen Lucifer leaving.  Depending on how long his little spycams had been watching, he might have even seen Charlie and the others departing as well. 

He knew Alastor was alone.

Pushing himself back with a hoof and bracing up on his hands, spine smarting, Alastor’s trademark smile widened into something truly nasty, “He’ll be returning shortly from an errand, so I recommend you get to skedaddling, old pal!”

The Radio Demon reached deep down for his magic once again and managed to grip it, but it was barely an echo of his usual eldritch glory.  He’d have to be very, very careful about how he targeted what little he seemed to have in reserve.  In his stomach, his twins squirmed and Alastor grunted, cupping them on instinct (and so, so grateful to feel them moving after his fall).  It was time to put his silver tongue to work if his magic was still suppressed.

Vox’s eyes tracked his movement and the wicked smile on his face turned to a condescending leer, “He’s not though.  Baby daddy hasn’t left you alone in months , Mr. Radio Demon.”

Alastor kept his smile in place and realized rather suddenly that, no, Vox wouldn’t have seen any of the times Lucifer went to the palace because the king always left through a portal.  The only time he ever saw either of them leave the hotel these days was with each other.

“I have an inkling,” Vox continued, “That Heaven finally pulled His Majesty in for time-out.”

The blood froze in Alastor’s veins.  What did Vox know? How could he know?

His shock must have shown in his eyes because the Television Demon was tucking his hands into his pockets, beginning a slow stroll up to his long-time nemesis, “I told you, Alastor, I see everything.  That’s the thing about modern media, sweetheart, it’s got a way of getting in people’s heads and when I talk…the right people listen.”

“That’s a rather funny thing, isn’t it? I find when you talk, I can’t wait for you to stop,” Alastor snapped back and summoned his cane to try and get his feet under him.

Too much was happening at once and his pregnancy fogged brain was making it hard to piece things together as quickly as he wanted.  It was a problem even his nurses had discussed with him…a certain sluggishness and confusion punctuated by memory issues and a struggle to focus.  It was apparently a side-effect of his shifting hormones and it was not helping him right now.  He felt like there was something obvious staring him in the face but he couldn’t recognize the shape of it yet.

Alastor tried to lever himself up on his cane and Vox swept it out from under him with an idle kick, “You’re going to listen now.  I know you, Alastor.  If you could take me out, you would have tried by now.  This is my show.”

The world went dizzy as Alastor lost his balance and came down hard on his elbow.  Hissing like an angry cat, he kicked out at Vox and felt shame pinching the back of his neck when his fellow Overlord only stepped out of the way and chuckled.  He was funny to Vox.  His struggles were little more than amusement now.  The only saving grace was his Shadow oozing up from the floor to snap at his rival, curling around him like a protective dog.  Poor thing was probably as weakened as he was and yet here it was, loyal as ever and determined to protect their babies.

“Look at you,” Vox sneered, circling, “You finally fucked up.  You whored yourself to the king and now you’re just his pampered house pet.  No teeth to you at all anymore.”

The Television Demon canted his absurd head to one side, “Or maybe his broodmare is more like it.  How is it being knocked up, fucker? Cushy job laying around and growing a brat?”

Alastor’s lips peeled back from his fangs far enough to reveal gum, “Manners, picture box.”

His Shadow skittered forward like a grotesque spider to snap its teeth at Vox’s ankles, finally driving him back far enough for its master to collect his cane once more.  Alastor began the laborious task of rising, getting his knees under him while he cradled the underside of his stomach.  Inside him, one of the twins squirmed and the Radio Demon resisted the urge to soothe them.

He would apologize to his children when they all survived this.

This was the very thing he’d feared weeks ago when Lucifer had caught him tearing himself apart in the bayou - that Vox was only waiting for the opportunity.  However, this was the most far-fetched of all the scenarios.  Vox was never supposed to be stupid enough to come after him while he was still pregnant and certainly not at the hotel.

So what trump card was he holding?

Alastor racked his brains as Shadow took a swipe for Vox, keeping him at bay until it could sense its other self was stable.

Vox had been watching for Lucifer to leave.

Vox had known that the angels were involved.

Vox clearly knew Lucifer wouldn’t return any time soon.

Vox said when he talked…the right people listened…

The Overlord’s head snapped to his rival and the growl that fell out of him was garbled with eldritch static as he finally made the connection, “You informed Heaven.”

The other man’s grin went lazy and he shrugged, “The duty of a concerned citizen.”

“You’ve lost your mind,” Alastor hissed, spreading his feet, “Have you any idea what involving Heaven will cost Hell? And for what ? Jealousy? You had your chance fifty years ago and left me humiliated in bed.  Lucifer was hardly drinking from your well.”

A momentary blip in signal obscured Vox’s face before he let out a snort, “Wait,” the snort turned into a chortle and then a braying laugh, “You fucking think all of this is because I was holding out for a circus freak like you? Bitch, your last chance to play nice was at the Overlords Assembly and you blew it.”

“Ah yes, because aborting the king’s offspring, having my soul erased, or an eternity on your chain were all such tantalizing choices.”

“I could have made it good for you,” Vox said darkly, moving forward once again.

Alastor’s prey instincts flared but he ignored them, bringing his cane in front of him in a guard stance, “Yes, well, if that ship has sailed, then tell me what was worth bringing the literal Heavenly Host down on our collective heads?”

He had to keep Vox talking until he figured out a plan.

“Easy.  You don’t get to win, Alastor.  You don’t get to fucking humiliate me and ride off into the damn sunset, and neither does Lucifer.  No one does.”

Absolute madness.

The Radio Demon made a circling step towards the stairs leading up to his wing, “So instead of ‘letting me win’, you’re razing all of creation.  An excellent choice!”

“Don’t flatter yourself.  Your slutty ass isn’t worth that.  Nah, see, Heaven’s interested in keeping order down here and the king having a new baby mama seems pretty disorderly to them.  They just want you and the brat handled and they don’t care how it happens,” Vox said, tracking his every step, “Well, maybe they’ll punish the king a bit for knocking you up, but who cares?”

“You seem to think you’re walking away from all of this unscathed,” Alastor took another step, angling to give himself an escape route, “Lucifer won’t forgive this.”

If he could lure Vox up to the bayou, it would even the playing field.

“Lucifer won’t even know.  Right now, you and the Angels are the only ones who know I’m involved at all…and you’re not walking out of this alive if I have to drag you to an Exorcist by the hair.  I’m holding all the cards, Al…you get erased, your brat goes down with you, and Lucifer gets to fucking live with it.”

“Yes yes, very clever,” the Radio Demon said, eyes flipping over into dials, “But you’ve failed to take one thing into account.”

“And that is?” Vox sneered.

“I won’t let you.”

And then Alastor was off, running for his domain like death itself was on his heels.

~*~

“You arranged marriage contracts?” Lucifer spluttered.

Michael was largely unbothered by his display, regarding the paperwork in front of them instead of their sibling, “Indeed. I even took pains to research infernal parlance that would suit a union forged in Hell.”

And that was Michael.  

They didn’t really consider the emotional ramifications of a thing, a creature driven by logic and Father’s word.  To them, this was a matter of paperwork, etiquette, and lines of succession.  Of course it would be.  They were a pureblooded Angel the same as Lucifer, only they had never been ‘tainted’ by close contact with humans.  They didn’t grasp that marriage had become much, much more than a matter of legal minutiae.

Walking halfway up the table to where his sibling was looking over the contract, the king protested, “I can’t just sign those.”

“No one is asking you to, brother.  You needs must review them first, of course,” Michael said, sliding the paper closer to Lucifer and tapping it with a blunted nail, “There is a way these things must be done.”

Lucifer shook his head and came to a stop a few seats away from Michael, gripping the back of the chair with his claws, “No, you don’t understand.  I can’t just…I can’t just sign Alastor into a deal he doesn’t have any say in.  He’d hate me.”

“All the more reason why his presence was requested.”

“Michael, I’m not going to do that to him,” Lucifer said even though a little part of him that hadn’t really thought about it yet lit up at the idea of a ring on his lover’s elegant finger.

His sibling sighed, “Then your Sinner dies even if I am forced to fight you to do so.  As do your children.”

Lucifer’s wings ruffled at the clearly stated consequence of refusing and his eyes narrowed, “I am the king here, Michael.  You don’t seem to understand that you don’t have the authority to be giving me ultimatums.  The only equal I have anymore is Father.”

Michael’s crystalline blue eyes turned to him, “Lucifer, sit and harken to me.”

Something had shifted in his tone and the fallen watched him warily.  It wasn’t precisely kind, but it wasn’t the clipped, business-like cadence from before.  He searched his sibling’s face and found it open but neutral, so at last he eased himself into the chair.

“I spoke earlier of kindness.”

“You’ve been doing a whole lot of talking, yeah,” Lucifer deflected.

“This too is a kindness, my coming.  The marriage contract was my idea.  When we discovered you had sired new heirs, there was a council.  Our siblings and the lesser host demanded a hunt.  They wished to root out your Sinner and exterminate him in the street.”

Lucifer’s stomach turned and he spoke quickly before the mental image had time to take hold, “Michael, why ? I know you’ve explained it a little, but I still don’t get it.  Alastor is…he’s just…I love him.  That’s it.  This isn’t some big thing or a play for the throne.  It was an accident and he…he loves them - the kids.  You have no idea how seriously he’s taking motherhood.”

For a moment, Michael was quiet, staring at their brother before continuing, “You are still too soft, brother.  Your head is so far in the clouds that you fail to see the wolves at your door until they beset you.  I will speak simply, then.”

“Heaven fears there will be a war for your throne with no queen and illegitimate children in play.  You have had either Lilith at your side or the memory of her since the founding of Hell, so your people’s loyalties have never been divided…not in that way.  When I say I have seen kingdoms fall on Earth, I did not lie to you.  This is one of the ways in which they fall - bitter wars of succession.”

Lucifer stared down at the marriage contract his sibling had presented to him, lips thin, “They were going to storm Hell, weren’t they?”

“This is so.”

“You could have led with that,” the king breathed out and hid his face in his hands, ruffling his own golden hair, “So, that’s it, then.  Either I force Alastor into a marriage contract or Exterminators invade Hell to hunt him down.”

“And then you, my wounded-heart brother, would surely war with Heaven for the offense in the latter case.”

“Fuck, only Heaven would go to war to try and stop one,” Lucifer breathed out, “Full offense intended.”

“Why does this trouble you so, Lucifer? I had thought…”

“That I’d fucking leap at the chance to lock my lover into a contract?” The Devil pulled one hand away from his face to raise an eyebrow at his sibling.

Michael looked truly baffled, “It grants him legitimacy, a throne of his own, recognition even from Heaven, and an equal share in your power.  What displeases you so?”

“It isn’t his choice .”

Another long silence stretched between them while Lucifer grappled with yet another impossible choice Heaven was placing in front of him.  His chest ached and he cursed himself for being stupid enough to lie to Alastor before.  If he was here now, he could make this decision, but no…Lucifer had been so determined to protect him that now he was being asked to betray him instead.

He knew Michael wasn’t bluffing.

If he really refused to sign the contract, then nothing short of the word of their Father would stop the march down here to Hell.  Michael was the strongest Archangel remaining in Heaven, but he was still only one and it appeared that he’d been overruled.  Lucifer would fight them, of course he would, but so many souls would be erased…people around him would get hurt…and if he failed even for a moment he would lose Alastor and their children.  Lucifer knew it would be the last straw for him and all that Michael predicted would come to pass.

Or…

He signed that contract right now to protect Alastor and their children.  He could sign it and make the Overlord his new queen, keep their babies safe, and keep Heaven far away from them for the foreseeable future.  Only…Alastor would never forgive him for the gross breach of consent - of the careful trust they’d been building.

“...Do I have time to think about this?” Lucifer asked, looking for a way out that wouldn’t doom his family or trap his lover, “Or better yet, give me just a little bit of time to go back and get him so we can all talk this over.”

His sibling considered him before pushing the folder closer to him, “An hour is all I can grant, for the hosts of Heaven clamor.  However, an hour you shall have.  Speak with your helpmeet and remember well what hangs in the balance.”

~*~

Alastor was glad he’d had the forethought to keep busy through his pregnancy, which meant he hadn’t grown terribly sluggish.  His magic might have been dulled, his ankles might be screaming at him, his balance was horrendous, but he could still run .  Apparently, Vox hadn’t been counting on that if the infuriated screaming was any indication.

The Radio Demon pelted up to the landing with his smile twisted into a feral grimace.  He thought desperately of where every possible electronic device on his floor was located since each one provided Vox with a unique strikepoint where he could cut off Alastor’s escape.  He knew for a fact that there was nothing of the kind in his own room, but that didn’t mean there weren’t other rooms outfitted with basic amenities.  All Vox would need to do was get into the television screen downstairs…

Blast it all, Alastor should have destroyed that nuisance picture box the first opportunity he had.  

On instinct, he kept a steadying hand on his stomach as he cleared the landing, ears flickering to and fro while he tried to detect the sounds of Vox pursuing.  

Nothing.

Damn.

There was no way Vox would have given up just because Alastor made a break for it, so he was either planning an ambush or desperately seeking an exit point after slipping into the wires.  

Alastor slowed his pace, not wanting to charge headfirst into Vox in case the man was lying in wait.  He could see the door to his room just up ahead.  Now Alastor just needed to make it there and vanish into his bayou.  It made his teeth itch to flee, but without open access to his magic, he was significantly weaker than the more able-bodied Overlord so he needed to fight smarter.  He knew the bayou like the back of his hand and it would be far easier to lay a trap once he was there.

The shadows in the corridor were long and ominous, reaching out like grasping fingers instead of the old friends Alastor normally knew them as.  They couldn’t ferry him today…the risk was too high that he’d lose the grip on his ability at an inopportune moment that could endanger his children.  Alastor didn’t want to even imagine the calamity that would come of getting trapped in a thrice-damned wall.

He’d recover from it, but would the defenseless little lives inside of him do the same?

Closer…closer.

Had Alastor’s quarters ever seemed so very far away?

A floorboard creaked beneath Alastor’s greater weight and he grew still, carmine eyes flicking up and down the corridor.  He wanted to expand his frequencies to feel Vox out, but that would broadcast his location.  That was one of the great dangers when it came to the Television Overlord, loathe though Alastor was to admit it - they were two sides of a coin.  Vox might be tacky, but he was powered by the same infernal radio waves that gave the stag his own prodigious might.  They’d always been able to feel each other if the channels were opened and now that Alastor found himself significantly weakened in ways Vox didn’t…

At his side, the Shadow leaked up from the floorboards like sentient rot and slinked ahead of him to scout.  It lifted its nose to the air like a hound, prowling on all fours and fully giving itself up to the animal nature that tugged at them both.  It very nearly made it to the door, reaching up with an inky hand for the knob when a percussive bang echoed through the hallway.

The tang of bitter divinity filled the air and settled on the back of Alastor’s tongue as a hole exploded through an adjacent door, his shadow falling back with a horrified shriek.

There was no time left.

Ears folded back to his skull and ringing with the echoes of gunfire, Alastor tore to his door and hissed at the massive hole that had been blown into it.  Not pausing a second longer, he shouldered his way inside with his Shadow hot on his heels.  Vox had manifested in a room across the hall, probably from a small, forgotten television set or something similar, and he was done with playing.

Relief flooded Alastor when the first jasmine-laden waft of his bayou drifted across his nose, heavy with the vegetal stink of untamed life.

Then his world erupted in white hot agony.

Several things happened all at once.

From behind, he felt an impact as if God himself landed a punch to his shoulder blade, shoving him forward and unbalancing him.

Burning hot torment exploded through his scapula like a supernova, stealing the air from his lungs and the thoughts from his head.  He didn’t even have the air to scream.

Then, like an afterthought, he heard a barking report of a second shot.  The sound rolled through his consciousness from far away since he was already careening to the rug of his room, arm useless and unable to support him as he flew face first at the floor.  Only his Shadow slithering beneath him protected his belly from the fall.

Shot.

He’d been shot in his mad dash for safety like the animal Vox had reduced him to.

His ears didn’t even twist at the sound of Vox’s shoes as they approached, tap tap tap, across the bare floors between his rugs and the bayou.

“Fuck you, Alastor.  You’re not getting away from me this time,” the Television Overlord growled, coming to a stop in front of his prey so all Alastor could see was his feet.

It was so hard to lift his head.

His body felt heavy with the weight of his children (oh Lucifer, his children ) and his already depleted power was further drained by the angelic bullet that had torn through his shoulder.  Was it still in there? Was there shrapnel? Vox would do something underhanded like utilizing a hollow point just for the sadism of it all.  God, Alastor remembered this pain, this soul-scouring hot-cold-hot angelic fire that wanted to consume him body and soul.

A clawed hand reached for him, tangling into his hair (catching an ear in the process) and yanking brutally upwards so he was forced to stare at Vox from an unnatural angle.

“Pathetic,” Vox sighed, tilting his head to look down on the Radio Demon, “You were more fun before you went and got your ass tamed by dick.  Oh well, it’s for the best I guess.  Dunno how long the bigwigs from upstairs are going to have your baby daddy held up, but I need to have you dealt with before he gets back.”

Alastor bared his bloodied teeth at Vox, snapping for him before getting his hair pulled viciously.

Distantly as his mind was overtaken on a wave of pain, Alastor noted he remained present despite the hair pulling and the violence.  Almost hysterically, he realized Lucifer had been right about that whole subspace nonsense.  Lucifer.  Oh, Lucifer.  He would come home to find his lover erased, both children dead.  Would it break him? Would it send him running back to his cage never to emerge again? Alastor mourned the very notion.

His thoughts racing by, Alastor remembered waking to Lucifer’s terrified melancholy when he was merely sleeping.  What would true erasure do to him?

His king…

Straining against the violent, throbbing trauma in his ruined shoulder, Alastor swiped out with his claws and managed to catch Vox on the calf.  Feeling flesh part under the razor edges of his talons felt so good…right up until he caught the butt of an angelic pistol to his temple for his troubles.  The world swam, but even so he struggled.  The Radio Demon didn’t go down without a fight.

The muzzle of the gun pressed between his eyes, cold and stinging with heavenly radiance, “Stop moving, you deer-tailed prick.  Here’s what’s going to happen.  You like choices, right? Well here’s the last one you get to make.  If you fucking sit still and take the bullet, you get to go first and you won’t have to be around for what I do to your brat.”

But then the muzzle of the gun was drifting down, down, down - skating over his nose, flirting with his lips, tracing the hollow of his throat and down between his small breasts before pressing against the side of his stomach.

“Or if you want to be a little bitch about it, you get to live through what I’m gonna do to it. Then it's your turn.” 

Alastor froze.

“So what’s it going to be?” Vox said, pressing the muzzle of the gun so hard into Alastor’s stomach that it triggered a spiraling series of painful cramps.

The Radio Demon took a moment to assess through the cottony fog of his jangled thoughts.

The idea of simply lying down like a dog to have his skull ventilated a second (final) time made bile rise in Alastor’s throat.  He was not weak.  He was not a victim.  He never had been and he never would be no matter what anyone said.  He was not built to surrender, especially not to the likes of Vox.  Every instinct inside of him screamed to go down fighting to his very last breath, but…

The thought of seeing…of feeling when his babies died inside of him…it was too much.  Maybe…Maybe Vox’s miserable lust for prolonged suffering would drive him to let the children ‘die’ slowly in their mother’s womb.  Maybe Lucifer wasn’t too far away and the twins could be saved.  It was a gamble with the worst odds in the world, but if there was even a chance Alastor’s children could make it out of this, then he’d roll those dice.

Hatred blazing in his fathomless ruby eyes, Alastor’s smile went brittle and tight, “You know what I’m going to choose, don’t you old boy?”

“You’ve gone fucking soft,” Vox said, but there was a grin on his face as he raised the gun back between his eyes, giving him a little prod for good measure, “Time to put you out of everyone’s misery.”

Time.

Alastor had to play for time.

The children would need every second he could scrape up for them.

He sighed and closed his eyes in feigned defeat and the very real exhaustion made it easy to play off, “Where did we go wrong, old pal? We used to be so fond of each other, you and I…fond enough I was prepared to give you something quite special all those years ago.”

The cool muzzle of the gun against his forehead twitched.  Vox hadn’t been expecting that, clearly.

“...Don’t you fucking start with me, you frigid little bitch.  What the hell was I supposed to do? I finally get your ass into bed and you were all…wrong,” the Television Demon snapped, “Then you got all pissy and never gave me another chance!”

Good.  He was talking.

Alastor slit his eyes open to peer up at him, “You did abandon me that night.  You can imagine why I was a touch too offended to try again.”

The pressure from the gun lessened, but it didn’t vanish, “Well fuck me for getting catfished by my best friend, I guess.”

“I can’t help how I manifested, old friend,” Alastor said, softening his voice even though all he truly wanted was to take Vox’s throat out with his teeth.

“No, but you owed me another chance for leaving me in the damn dark.  Uppity.  That was always your fucking problem and look where it got you.  Could have turned out different if you’d gotten over yourself,” the gun wavered briefly as if Vox was doubting his course before pressing hard into his skull, “But yadda yadda ship has sailed and all that.  End of the line.”

Alastor closed his eyes again and waited for the familiar world-ending bang that would bring one-hundred and twenty-five years to a close.

Instead, he heard the door open downstairs.

Vox started, head turning away from his quarry as he grumbled, “What the fuck?”

If ever there was a God who had cared about Alastor DuBois in all of his existence, the Radio Demon would only believe in him now.  

Sensing his would-be exterminator’s distraction, Alastor gathered what was last of his strength to get his feet under him, lunging for Vox even with a bum arm and a rattled skull.  Someone was here now and if he went down fighting, they could save the children.  Vox let out an undignified squawk as the furious stag slammed into his knees with the force of a freight train, taking him down to the floor and overturning one of the armchairs in front of his fireplace with a scuffle and a bang.  Vox’s gun arm pinwheeled over his head as he fought to catch himself, firing again and tearing through Alastor’s neatly ordered bookshelf.

The door downstairs slammed, drawn by the sound of the discharge, no doubt.

Panting through his fangs and powering through the mind-numbing torture of fighting heavily pregnant with only a single working arm, Alastor clawed his way up Vox’s torso.  Trying to fend him off, the gun came down hard again and caught the buck across the cheek, but he was running on pure hope now.  Through blurred vision, he scrabbled for Vox’s wrist, grabbing him tight even as his fellow Overlord tried to re-aim the weapon.

Like Hell.

Alastor, granted whatever temporary strength adrenaline threaded into his marrow, yanked Vox’s arm taut and buried his teeth into it.  The taste was truly vile, but the man’s scream was music to his ears as severed tendons gave up the fight.  

Vox’s hand went slack on the gun, delicate connections needed for prolonged grip strength sheared by the Radio Demon's maw.

Within an instant, it was in Alastor’s shaking one.

Straddling the man who had once been his closest friend and who had almost been his lover many, many ruined years ago, the taste of blood and bone in his aching jaw, the Radio Demon pulled the trigger.

Vox’s screen went dark, never to illuminate again.

There was a high-pitched whine in Alastor’s ears that almost drowned out the sound of feet pounding up the stairs while he stared down at the ruin of a man he had cared for once.  Time stretched out like hot taffy and the Overlord didn’t quite register that it was over.  It was done.  His babies were safe.  He was drifting on the last dregs of energy even as he trembled from blood loss and holy poisoning spreading from the injury to his shoulder.  He was distantly aware that he was shaking, his world going grey at the edges.

Was he in shock? 

He thought he might be.

But then the feet were so close he could no longer ignore them, dazedly turning his head to see a frantic looking Lucifer storming through the door, wild-eyed and literally breathing fire.

Good.

Papa was here.  The children would be fine.

Letting out a soft whine as the weight of everything caught up with him, Alastor finally collapsed back with the last of his strength gone.  Strong arms caught him…cradled him…and that was nice.  No one had held him the last time he’d died.  Vision drifting in and out, he weakly lifted a clawed hand to the angelic face of his king, barely noticing the streaks of dark blood he left behind.

“Ti zanj…”

~*~

The scene that Lucifer arrived to when he finally got to Alastor’s door made the wreckage of his Fall seem dreamlike in comparison.

The room was torn apart, furniture overturned and blown to pieces.  Blood smeared across the floor in nightmarish swathes of gore, reeking of celestial purity and sweat.  There at the epicenter of his rapidly disintegrating world crouched Alastor, his shoulder blown open down to the bone and shaking like a leaf.  His clothes were torn and an entire shade darker from his own blood, eyes foggy and a goddamn body lying underneath him.  He swayed unsteadily and Lucifer was across the room in a flash, gathering up his mate.

He’d been attacked.

Lucifer had lied to him to keep him safe and he had been shot right in their own home. 

Why the fuck had he lied? 

Alastor felt chilly in his arms as tremors racked him, physical trauma and septic shock from a holy bullet overtaking his body.  He looked like he wasn’t even all there anymore, his eyes struggling to focus as he traced patterns of blood over Lucifer’s cheek.

“Alastor! Alastor, baby, you’re okay.  I’m here,” the Devil said desperately, pushing sweaty hair away from his lover’s forehead.

“Mmm?” Alastor asked as his eyes fluttered.

Father, he was already so depleted from how late in his pregnancy he was and the fucking holy bullet hole had put a momentary pause on his latent healing.  He wasn’t looking good.  Not good at all.  The slash from Adam’s divine axe had been one thing…he’d been at full health and power during that fight…but the Radio Demon was nowhere near fighting strength right now.  It didn’t help that it looked like he’d taken a beating on top of everything else.

“Stay with me, habibi,” Lucifer urged, taking his hand and kissing the knuckles, unheeding of the blood that stained them, “You’re just a little dinged up.”

Alastor’s brow furrowed like collecting his thoughts was an effort and he hissed low, “The children…early, but should be fine if you…”

Lucifer’s heart seized in his chest at the implication.

“You are not leaving us,” the king growled, watching the dazed expression on Alastor’s face grow more pronounced.

He could fight this off…give them more time to get him help if he only had more power .  The children had been leeching off of him for eight months or he’d already be bouncing back enough to give Lucifer time to siphon off the divine energy insinuating itself into his unholy flesh. 

Power.

Alastor let out an exhausted wheeze and suddenly the contract scroll in Lucifer’s pocket felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.

Hadn’t Michael promised it would grant his queen an equal share of his power? 

Lucifer set his jaw and used a free hand to root it out, laying it on the bloodstained floor as he said, “Alastor sweetheart, I hope you forgive me someday, but I have to do something right now.”

The Radio Demon’s eyes fluttered and he struggled to look up, “Your Majesty…?”

“I need you to marry me.  Right now.  You can hate me all you want, but I’m not taking no for an answer,” Lucifer said, dipping a claw into the blood pooling on the floor and setting the tip to the signature line, “You wanted to be here for our kids, so you’re going to be.”

He signed his name in a hurried scrawl, sealing the pact as the King of Hell.

Before his eyes, the scroll dissolved into pure energy, his signature igniting the latent sorcery that shaped reality.  So he had written it, so it was.  The writhing mass of unshaped potential split in two as he watched, a tendril of it nuzzling into a hoop around Alastor’s ring finger and coalescing into an ebony ring.  It settled into the likeness of a snake wrapping around itself, a garnet apple held in its jaws.

Classy.

A gentle nudge on his own hand told him he was receiving similar treatment, but Lucifer couldn’t tear his eyes away from his new queen as Alastor let out a mighty gasp, back arching.

His sanguine eyes flared open, clear of fog.

Lucifer dug into his pocket for his phone and dialed quickly, “Bel.  I need you here yesterday. ”

~*~

Alastor awoke to the feeling of soft pillows and cool sheets, his body aching but his thoughts crystal clear.  There was a radio playing softly at his side, something slow and jazzy, but no lyrics to draw his attention.  He was wearing his comfiest pair of pyjamas…his favourite pair of late simply because the fabric didn’t irritate his tender nipples now that milk was starting to come in.  There was a barely-there breeze coming through a cracked window and low voices murmuring nearby.  His shoulder throbbed like it had been torn off of him and clumsily stitched back on and parts of his skull throbbed with sonar-pings of pain every time his demonic heart beat.

Lying in the gentle fugue state singular to the newly awakened, Alastor tried to remember how he got here and found that he couldn’t.

His last memories were interesting…some of them dim as swamp mist, but others sharp as finely honed knives.  

He recalled with clarity his morning with Lucifer…the letter…and the king’s departure for the Embassy.  He remembered foolishly letting Vox in past the Hotel’s wards thinking it was Charlotte forgetting her key.  He recalled the panicked moments escaping his attacker, then pain so brilliant and bright that it glowed like a halogen lamp in his head.  The details afterward were fuzzy, but still present - his mad play for time while he gambled for his children’s lives, then a struggle.

Another gunshot.

He remembered the sight of Lucifer’s face, but he’d already begun unraveling by that point.  The memories didn’t properly unstick themselves until he recalled the feeling of pure, uncut power charging through his veins like electricity.  He’d fallen unconscious shortly after that, but at least didn’t feel like he was on death’s doorstep anymore.  Speaking of…

Alastor raised a hand to touch the place where he’d been shot, finding a rather unpleasant new scar marring the tightly-stretched skin.  Oh.  That was a big one, and it had been angelic no less.  How in blazes had he survived that?

The conversation across the room fell away and in a moment Lucifer was sitting on the edge of their bed, gently stroking his hair, “Habibi…you’re awake.”

“So it would seem,” Alastor croaked and then winced as he opened his eyes.  

His head still hurt like blazes.

Catching the wince, his lover placed a tender hand over his eyes, screening him from the worst of the light, “Are you okay, Al? What’s wrong?”

“Pistol whipping,” Alastor drawled and allowed himself to be seen to, “Is terribly unpleasant.”

The hand over his eyes twitched, “Father above…”

“Please do us all a favor, pet, and don’t bring him into this.  I’m still feeling rather low from taking an angelic bullet, so I’m not feeling especially fond of Heaven right now,” Alastor said sourly, “Speaking of…I don’t believe I expected to wake up again.  Quite novel.”

“Stubborn,” Belphegor’s familiar voice chimed in, coming closer.

“I am, at that.  The children?” The Radio Demon asked.

“Healthier than you,” The Queen of Sloth said bluntly, “Should be easier now.”

Well, that was an odd thing to say.

Lucifer’s voice was low with reproach when he spoke again, “Bel, don’t.”

“Tell him.  Check up in a week,” and then Belphegor’s feet were shuffling away, surely to a portal that would carry her back to her own business in her own ring.

“What on earth was that about?” The Radio Demon asked quietly, reaching down to rest a hand on his stomach and relieved to find his children still there.

On instinct, he projected their heartbeats to the radio and felt such unspeakable satisfaction when both were still there, strong and healthy.

Lucifer carefully pulled his hand away from Alastor’s eyes, dimming the lights in the room with an absent wave and going back to petting his hair, “I’ll explain in a minute.  I want you to be more awake for it because it uh…it’s a hell of a conversation. First…I need to know what happened here.”

“I will trade you that information in exchange for knowing how long I’ve been out,” Alastor countered.

His king sighed, giving up his weight to the bed and curling up against Alastor’s side like a bastion against the world, “Two days.  I needed time to draw the celestial corruption out and you stayed under while your body remembered how to heal itself.  Bel’s been in and out to keep an eye on you and the twins.”

“Two days, really? My, Charlie must be frantic.”

“Hysterical, actually,” Lucifer sighed against his shoulder, “Absolutely beside herself. But, it’s your turn now, habibi.  I just…I need you to explain how I came home to find you half dead in your own room with an angelic wound.”

Alastor puffed air through his nose and wished he had the energy to embrace his king, but as it was he could only lie there, “While you were out, I heard someone fiddling with the door.  I assumed Charlotte came home and wasn’t prepared to find it locked, so I went to let her in.  Obviously, it wasn’t Charlie.  We had a bit of a tussle, I’m afraid.”

“Alastor, you were shot, beaten, and pistol whipped. I almost lost you.”

“A big tussle, then,” the Radio Demon said blithely, “However, we at least have an answer as to what the angels summoned you for.  Vox informed them about the pregnancy…so we need to brace for that, I suppose.  Unless you took care of it?”

Lucifer groaned and curled into his side more tightly, “In a manner of speaking.”

“Well don’t keep me in suspense, dear, do tell.”

The Devil at his side kissed his shoulder in a lingering way before murmuring into the fabric, “...First, I have to confess I lied to you.  I’m so sorry, habibi.”

Alastor would have raised a brow if his head didn’t feel like misery incarnate, “Did you?”

“I did.  The letter we received asked for both of us and I didn’t tell you.  I let this happen to you because I tried too hard to protect you.  I was so stupid…”  Lucifer sounded utterly miserable as he confessed, “At the time, the idea of letting you walk in there just…it terrified me.”

Anger sparked like a firecracker in Alastor’s chest, but before he could bite at his lover, the king said, “I broke one of your rules, Al, and I know it.  I don’t need you to forgive me for it, I just need you to know that I understand how I fucked up.”

Well.

Some of the immediate anger bled out of him, though a soft simmer of it remained, “...Very well.  I heed your acknowledgment, but reserve judgement.  Continue.”

“...Michael was waiting for me there, Alastor.  The Michael.  My sibling.  After Heaven found out about us, they convened a council and wanted to come down to exterminate the three of you.  It was some insane, bureaucratic bullshit about how you and the new kids were muddying the lines of succession and you’d start a war for the throne down here.”

Alastor snorted even though it jostled his shoulder, “Why in Hell would that be a problem? Charlie is far closer to the throne than either of these two, not that you’ll be going anywhere for quite awhile.”

“Welcome to Heaven’s Catastrophizing.  Either way, it didn’t matter how stupid their reasoning, Michael came down to give us a choice since they can occasionally be swayed,” Lucifer said, dropping another barely-there kiss to his collarbone, "They're loyal to Father to a fault, but some part of them remembers that we're family.  Sometimes."

“I’m guessing the first choice was death for myself and the children, but being as we’re all three still here, I’m rather curious what the other option was.”

“...Agreeing to a marriage contract to legitimize you as my queen and keep our twins as part of the line of direct descent,” Lucifer said and he sounded a little miserable about it, which was offensive, “Officially elevate you and acknowledge that Lilith's claims to power are truly ended.”

Alastor fought to wrap his head around that, stalling, “Well, we’ll have to figure out a third option soon, I suppose.”

“...Al?” 

“I assume you’ll need to give them an answer soon, and you hardly sound enthused about the marriage option,” he couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice as he spoke, “And I don’t particularly want to die, so we need to come up with a third choice.”

For a moment, it was utterly still but then Lucifer was squeezing Alastor close as much as he dared without causing him further hurt, “...I already decided.”

“...I beg your pardon?”

“Alastor, listen carefully to me.  When I came home, you were barely conscious, suffering from angelic corruption, battered, and exhausted.  Half of your shoulder was just gone. I was so fucking sure you were going to die and I didn’t want that.  I…fuck…habibi, I panicked.  Becoming my queen grants you a share of my power and I…I couldn’t think of what else to do to keep you with me.  I signed the contract to give you enough power to keep limping along until Belphegor could get to you,” Lucifer said with the air of a child who had committed a grave sin, “That’s why I was coming home.  Michael gave me an hour to come back and ask you properly, but…there was just no time…”

Lucifer let out a shuddering sigh and suddenly the lingering kisses made sense.  He thought he was experiencing their final embraces and wanted to savour them, sure that Alastor would throw him over for what he'd done.

“I wanted it to be your choice…but I took it away from you anyway because I’m so fucking selfish.  I didn’t want to raise the twins without you and -.”

Alastor raised a clawed finger to press against Lucifer’s lips, damming the river up.

He was silent at first.

Lucifer wasn’t bitter about the idea of being forced to marry him, he was feeling guilty for marrying him against his will.  Because based on that story, they were married now, weren’t they? Married.  Part of Alastor’s heart quailed at that…at being bound to another person for the rest of eternity (since he suspected divorce would end badly for him and their little ones).  It was a terrifying prospect, this notion that he’d been carried over this hurdle without knowing it.  He wanted to bolt.

Yet…Lucifer had wanted to ask him properly.  Sure, death was the only other option, but it had mattered to him that Alastor be free to say yes under his own power.  The fact that he had forced the issue to save him…

Because the babies in his belly would have struggled being born prematurely, but they would have survived.  Lucifer could have made that choice.  If, in that moment, he had only ever truly cared about the twins, he could have let Alastor go and still managed to save them.  But he wanted Alastor .  He wanted him.

“You were returning to propose?” 

He needed to hear Lucifer say it.

Shining golden eyes turned up to his face as if he were no less than God himself and Lucifer said, “Yes.  I don’t want to lose you, habibi.”

Tilting his head as much as he could, Alastor said, “You said you’d tell me what that meant, someday.  Tell me now.”

A porcelain-smooth hand reached up to cup his cheek, “...It means beloved.”

All this time…

Lucifer reached for his hand and turned it to show him the fetching black and red ring adorning his finger, “I made you my queen to save your life, but I won’t bind you to me romantically.  I realize I overstepped.  I lied to you, I forced you into this.  You can have all the space you need in private as long as you’re my consort in public.”

Wasn’t this everything Alastor had thought he couldn’t have these last few months? Lilith had never worn Lucifer’s ring, but Alastor did.  Lucifer, the King of Hell, loved him.  It certainly didn’t hurt that he had received a bounty of new power from his association with the other man.

Tired to the bone, but resolved, Alastor tangled their fingers, “And if I wished to be your consort in private as well, ti zanj?”

His husband’s bright eyes flared wider in surprise, his lips parting as if he wanted to speak but had no words to say.

“This is rather backwards of us, I admit, but I accept.  I do expect a wedding, however, you cad.”

The kiss his king pressed on him then tasted like forever.

Chapter Text

THE NEXT DAY

The next time consciousness found Alastor, it was in the pre-dawn still of what he assumed was a Monday.  

He was curled up on his side beneath the blankets of Lucifer’s bed, a pillow stuffed between his knees and a pile of them under his head to cushion his neck.  It was a perfect morning, the ambient temperature of the room neither too hot nor too cold as he lazed under the thick duvet Lucifer preferred.  The man was curled up behind him like a big spoon, moulded to every inch of his back and breathing soft puffs of sleepy air against his nape.  A pale arm was draped protectively over his middle and Alastor could just make out the cool weight of a very new ring cupping his belly.

Married.

He and Lucifer were married.

He and Lucifer were married in the eyes of both Heaven and Hell, he was the new queen, and he had the damn ring to prove it.

Alastor knew that the ring was binding…could practically smell the arcane nature of it drifting in the air.  This was no mere trinket summoned out of the ether on the occasion of their extremely (very nearly literal) shotgun wedding.  It was a mark forged from will and intent that entwined him inexorably to his king.  Normally, such an idea would fill him with a bone-deep panic, but…he and Lucifer were already bound by the twins, weren’t they? 

The Radio Demon marveled idly at the fact that the feel of the ring on his hand didn’t fill him with revulsion.  It felt…comfortable.

It felt like safety for his children, who would now be born Morningstars and not simply acknowledged children.

It felt like the last bit of proof that Lucifer loved him , and not just the accidental fruit of his misbegotten womb.

It would certainly take some getting used to and Alastor was sure to have rather big feelings about it later, but for now? For now he was peaceful in a cozy bed with his injuries healing.  He had survived and his children were safe.  Heaven itself had wanted to muster its might against him and Lucifer…Lucifer had stood up for them.

Alastor’s long-fingered hand stole up to tangle with Lucifer’s, their rings tapping together under the blankets.

Not his lover anymore…his husband.

Behind him the king stirred, his strong body rolling in a series of isometric stretches not unlike a great hunting cat.  Soft lips pressed to Alastor’s nape and the hand on his stomach tightened around his, thumb stroking against his own.  Lucifer was always so eager to cuddle and luxuriate in their quiet moments together upon waking.

“Good morning, habibi,” Lucifer whispered into the tidy bristles of his undercut, tracing the line of it with butterfly kisses, “How do you feel this morning?”

“Mmm, my head hurts a great deal less.  My shoulder still isn’t what I would call a picnic, but I can’t feel it when my heart beats any longer,” Alastor murmured back, not eager to begin the day for once.

Outside of this room, Heaven had howled for the blood of his unborn twins.

Outside of this room was a Hell where Vox no longer existed, a fact that he wasn’t sorry for, but still needed to process.

Outside of this room was a Hell where he was now the queen with all that entailed.  He didn’t hate that fact, but the sheer effort it would take to learn his new position was rather too much for the moment.

Outside of this room was the wreckage of his quarters and a whole pack of people who were surely fretting over him.

No, far easier to bask in the simple worship of his king for the time being.

Lucifer nuzzled into the crook of his shoulder and sighed out softly, “You don’t smell like your own blood anymore, which is good.  It means we got everything out and you’re healing normally.”

Alastor tipped his head more into the softness of his favourite silk pillowcase to give Lucifer room (which his greedy little king gladly took), “...It’s so odd, this continued existence business.  I hadn’t expected another dawn, Hellish or no.  If you hadn’t come home when you had…”

The arms around him tightened and Lucifer pressed his forehead to the back of Alastor’s neat bob, “...Please don’t, habibi.  Don’t even say it.  I can’t bear it, not when you’re real in my arms.”

“Hush now, angel,” Alastor tutted and stroked his hand, “I’m here.”

“You are…” Lucifer whispered and kissed him again.

The Overlord hummed in contentment and allowed himself his own indulgent stretch, his voice strained with the effort as he asked, “Tell me, what became of our box-headed friend?”

Lucifer was quiet for a moment, simply holding Alastor close to him before he finally said, “Angel told us the asshole was a member of some group of idiots called the Vees.  I sent him back to them so they understand that our tolerance has reached its end.”

“Ah.”

The silence at his back was more pensive this time.

“Alastor?” Lucifer finally broached soft as dawn through the swamp haze by the stag’s ear, “Who exactly was that guy? I remember him from the Overlord meeting, but…”

Alastor exhaled slowly through his nose and closed his eyes, “Once? A friend.  Almost a bedmate long ago.  A rival ever since.  I’m fine, ti zanj.  It is simply…a change to know he won’t be dogging my footsteps for the rest of eternity.”

Sweetly, one of Lucifer’s big hands smoothed over his stomach and Alastor felt when his king placed his forehead against the back of his neck, “Good change or bad change?”

“Merely a change.  I am unused to lasting change these days.  Hell simply doesn’t have a tendency of doing that, my dear…changing in lasting ways.  It is forever. There’s no love lost between Vox and I, but he was a fixture for good or for ill,” Alastor explained.

Lucifer nodded against the downy fur at the base of his neck, “...You hated each other, but you were used to each other.”

“Just so.”

It was rather nice that, as he had done for all eight months of the pregnancy, Lucifer understood.

Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to be married to a man who simply knew him.

He tapped the back of his new husband’s hand with a single claw, delicate but there, “There have been a great many changes in the last week, it seems.”

Lucifer chucked softly, “Guess so.  So!  What does Alastor’s dream wedding look like, huh? I promised you one and you know how much I hate disappointing you.”

To this, Alastor could only groan, “We can arrange a proper wedding after the babies are born.  I fear if you ask me to put together a wedding in my eighth month of pregnancy I really will devour someone who isn’t you, and I know you disapprove of that.”

“Al…it’s your wedding.  You wouldn’t be the one arranging it,” Lucifer scoffed.

“Foolish,” was Alastor’s riposte, “As if I would trust anyone else with it.”

Peace fell between them for a time, but Alastor could hear Lucifer thinking so hard it was a miracle smoke wasn’t coming out of his ears.  He left him to stew for a moment before having mercy on his husband and tapping his hand once more.

“Your thoughts are very loud, dear.  Speak.”

The blankets rustled as Lucifer pressed closer, “...What do you want for the wedding? Just…hypothetically.  I’ve never really had one…and I realize things have changed for mortals since I was consigned to Hell.”

“Mm,” Alastor intoned, mulling it over without much deep thought, “I suppose we’ll be expected to have a rather large to-do.  The palace would be the most likely venue in that case, as I expect the Sins will need to be invited, as well as your Goetia nobility.  Do we need to invite a liaison from Heaven?”

Lucifer chuckled, “I asked what you wanted , Alastor, not what Hell expects.  Don’t get me wrong, we’ll have to have some sort of stuffy royal thing at some point, but that will probably be your coronation.  What about just for us? Unless you want something big and ostentatious like that, of course.”

Oh.

That woke Alastor up a bit and he stared into the soft shadows of the room as he actually rolled that over in his mind.  The idea of something private really hadn’t crossed his mind, rather assuming that there were certain requirements being placed on the wedding as a matter of status.  The idea wasn’t without appeal, really…such a thing would broadcast to all of Hell once and for all that there had been a power shift.  It hadn’t mattered so much when Lucifer was merely his beau, but now…

Hm.

Yes, Alastor quite enjoyed the pomp of it all and he remembered a time when he would have loved nothing more than to rub his ascent in the collective faces of everyone who had ever fancied themselves better than him.  Yet, something about making such a circus of their wedding rang hollow to him now.  For starters, Lucifer would absolutely hate it.  He’d gotten better over the eight months they’d been together, but he was still quite an introverted man.  Alastor suspected that would never change.  

The Radio Demon had outgrown the days when making Lucifer miserable brought him any pleasure.  Annoying him was quite fun, yes, but this was something different.

Alastor figured the boot-licking from his lessers could wait until the coronation.

“Where I’m from,” he started, feeling the idea out in his own mind while he spoke, “Weddings for my particular community were small, lively, family affairs.  Usually, they were held in church basements or backyards.  We couldn’t even dream of frivolities like catering, so every guest brought something to contribute as far as food was concerned.  Flowers came from someone’s garden.  Clothes were handed down.  It’s the sort of wedding I would have had when I was alive were I capable of being a normal man.”

Behind him, Lucifer pushed up on a hand to peer down at him so Alastor obligingly rolled to look up at his husband, finding the man’s eyes alight.  He wouldn’t say it, not yet, but the idea clearly appealed to him.

“Would you…maybe…like something at the hotel?” The Devil asked quietly.

“Friends and family only.  We could perhaps have a ceremony in the gardens.  It would be close enough to the nursery that the twins can be tucked in if things get too rowdy for them,” Alastor said by way of confirmation, “How does that strike you?”

Lucifer leaned down to kiss him gently on the lips and Alastor was only too happy to accept.

“I think I’d like that.  Scratch that, I’d love it,” his husband murmured into the still between them, cuddling back up to him.

“We’ll start planning once the children are born and I’m back on my feet.  I trust we won’t need to make any announcements to Heaven?” Alastor said, shifting so he was lying on his back propped up by pillows.

Lucifer was quick to make himself at home in the crook of his queen’s shoulder, “Yeah, we’re square with Heaven.  Michael would have known the second I signed.”

“Excellent,” the Overlord replied with mock cheer before a knock at the door had his ears rotating to track the sound.

His husband groaned, “Sorry, it’s Charlie.  She’s been checking in before breakfast every morning.  Let me just -.”

“Come in, Charlie dear,” Alastor cut him off, making no move to rise from bed.

After all, both he and Lucifer were dressed (thought not necessarily presentable) and it wouldn’t do to make the poor girl fret.  He felt a puff of amused breath against his shoulder as the door creaked open to reveal an utterly haggard looking Charlotte Morningstar.  The girl’s clothes were rumpled in a way that indicated she’d slept in them, her normally sleek blonde hair was a wreck, and there were bags under her sparkling eyes.  Goodness gracious, Alastor hadn’t imagined his injury would distress her so.

The second she saw him semi-upright in bed, her eyes glowed like beacons and she let out a sound like a whimper, striding quickly over to them, “Alastor! You’re awake!”

Smirking, Alastor patted Lucifer on the head for good measure and replied, “But of course , my dear! Did you really think a know-nothing pissant like Vox would be enough to best the mighty Radio Demon? Just a scratch, dear girl!”

Lucifer’s arm tightened pointedly around his middle.

“I just…you just looked…” Charlie stammered, eyes raking over him as if she could see the horrific injuries that had nearly ended his existence only a few days ago.

“Tut! No use fretting over it, Charlie.  What’s past is past,” Alastor chirped with more energy than he felt he had, already back to putting on a show for the masses, “Your father mustered the best medical care in the Rings.  Your siblings and I are fine.”

The princess nodded, but her eyes had that horrible wet quality that indicated tears were on the horizon, “Sorry…sorry…I was just so scared.  I’m so glad you’re okay.  Everyone’s been asking…”

Everyone?

Surely not.

Alastor scoffed lightly, “Goodness, I knew Husk was eager to slip my leash, but -.”

“He was angry, Alastor.  Really, really, really angry.  Husk was the one to take Vox’s um…his body…back to Vee territory.  He insisted,” Charlie replied, hushed.

Well, that was unexpected news.  Things to think about, but later.

“Well…tell them they needn’t fret.  I’ll be back shortly so they needn’t suffer Angel’s cooking too much longer.”

“Oh no you don’t, mister! You’re eight months pregnant! You were shot! I am ordering you as a Princess of Hell to begin your paternity leave right now! I’ve already rearranged your schedule and talked to Vaggie, so if we catch you overworking…” Charlie threatened with all the menace of a wet kitten.

Alastor’s false cheer stuttered and his ears folded back.  It certainly didn’t help when Lucifer snorted softly into his shoulder, choking down mirth.

Traitorous little snake.

“Besides…” the princess said, deflating softly and fiddling with her own fingers, “...You and dad just got married.  Take some time together, okay? You’ve earned it.”

Alastor blinked.

Lucifer stroked his hand, staving off whatever fit of pique he sensed forthcoming, “It’s okay, habibi, she knows.  I had to explain the rings and…well…everything else while you were out.  I’m sorry.”

The Radio Demon lay there in bed, penned in by his new husband and the puppy-dog stare of his legal daughter-in-law (and wasn’t that just too peculiar to think too hard about).  On the one hand, his pride roared at him not to tolerate this being ordered about.  On the other though…he truly was worn down.

When he had first discovered that he was pregnant, Alastor had been insistent that he would work right up until the children were born because his mother had been that strong.  He would not be weaker than her when he had more than she had.  It felt shameful.  She had done so much for him with next to nothing.

Lucifer, doting man that he was, clearly hadn’t forgotten that first conversation from eight months ago, “...Alastor, I know how you feel about this, but please listen.  Charlie isn’t taking you off of work entirely, just lightening the load.  Being on your hooves has been hurting, and you were…you almost died, sweetheart.  This isn’t you being weak, it’s us being scared.”

His husband was giving him an out…a way to accept the help without the overbearing feeling of pitiful feebleness.

At last, Alastor sighed and rested his head back in the pillows, “Very well…but I shan’t be letting paperwork pile up and I will at least be preparing lunch.”

Watching the way Charlie’s face relaxed at his acquiescence shouldn’t have felt as good as it did.

Perhaps he really had gone soft.

Sniffing with a perfunctory air, Alastor smoothed the blankets down over his stomach, “And I should like for you to know that my status with your father changes nothing in our relationship, my dear.”

Charlie brightened just a touch more and nodded, her hands folding neatly together instead of squirming over one another like restless snakes, “Okay.  Okay, I’d…I love that.  And for what it’s worth, I’m happy for you.  I’ll um…I’ll go let everyone know you’re awake.”

“Charlie, dear? No company, please.  I’ll find my way down eventually, but for now I believe your father and I would value our privacy for a little while longer,” Alastor said, only willing to let his ego be trampled on so far.

He simply couldn’t stomach any more fussing today, thank you.

“You’ve got it,” Charlie said quietly and moved back from the bed, “I’ll just…I’ll leave you two to it.  Call if you need anything.”

She made it as far as the door, one hand on the knob before something occurred to her, “Oh and uh…Alastor? Um…if you could at least consider letting Niffty in later just for a few minutes I’d be really grateful.  She’s been kind of ah…feral.  We’ve kept her busy cleaning up your room, but she’s…yeah.”

Oh dear.

“Consider it done,” Alastor said, trying to reconcile the absurdity of having quite a serious conversation with the Princess of Hell while her father had refused to budge from playing the role of octopus at his side.

Once Charlie had departed and the door clicked closed in her wake, Lucifer let out a breath, “You’re such a shit sometimes.”

“Oh?” Alastor asked mildly, stroking claws through his golden hair.

“Just a scratch?” His husband scoffed, “There was a crater missing from you.”

“And we must never acknowledge that fact, ti zanj, especially now that I am your queen.  The only people who are aware of how severe my injuries were are the residents of the hotel and a very, very dead man.  That means the narrative is ours to control and control it we must.”

Lucifer groaned and nipped lightly at his pyjama-clad shoulder, more a love bite than anything else, “How are you already thinking about politics again? You’re more powerful than any Overlord alive now, habibi! Go back to talking about the wedding please.”

Alastor’s hand continued to stroke, “Ah, but am I more powerful than a Sin? A Goetia royal? The game has changed, my dear, but be assured that we are always playing one.  It wouldn’t do for the upper crust to see us flinch, would it? At least not until I’ve established my reputation.”

“You’re a nightmare,” Lucifer informed him, “You’re lucky I love you.”

Hm, how peculiar that such a simple declaration could still do funny things to his stomach when the Devil had made far grander gestures.  He rolled the words over in his brain before closing his eyes in pursuit of perhaps an hour or two more of sleep.  Even the twins weren’t awake yet in his stomach.

“Mmm…and you are a soft fool, so perhaps it’s lucky that you have your own personal nightmare to protect you, my love.”

At his side, Lucifer melted, all the annoyed energy bleeding out of him, “...Yeah.”

~*~

WEEK FORTY-ONE

In the end it had taken another two days for Alastor to muster himself enough to leave the bedroom and show himself to the hotel proper.  One day to regain more of his strength because it turned out he was quite a great deal more wiped out than he had imagined, and another after that to gird his loins for the fussing of the others.  Lucifer had stayed with him the entire time, warm and blessedly quiet save for the occasional murmured conversation.  He only left to fetch food and cups of hot tea, staying near while Alastor and their children recuperated.

When he had at last emerged, dressed neat as a pin without a single hair out of place, he had been gratified to find that Charlie had apparently been doing damage control in his absence.

From Husk he received nothing more than a nod and a two-finger salute, while Angel (who was fetched up at the bar) shot him a salacious wink that was so perfectly in character it had to be an affectation.  Charlie herself had been warm and welcoming, clearly fighting not to hover.  Vaggie was the strangest by far, stowing her usual suspicious vitriol for a wry grin and a husky ‘welcome back’.  Niffty, of course, stayed glued to his ankles for at least two hours.

And so time had marched on.

The days passed and Alastor settled into a new normal, his days mostly punctuated by late mornings in bed with his new husband, hours at his desk making sure that paperwork was in order for when the children arrived and he went on a full paternity leave, and short stints in the kitchen to prepare light lunches.  Evenings were spent at ‘family’ dinners or over more private meals with Lucifer while they bantered or played card games.

The weeks rolled on in blissful silence with no sign of reprisals from the Vees, which didn’t surprise Alastor all that much.  Each of the Vees were influential in their own right, but the bulk of their authority stemmed from the successful power bloc they had formed over the decades.  With their triumvirate down by one, they’d be scrambling to patch up the gaps for themselves, never mind coming after Alastor in his own territory.  Besides, Valentino might be that stupid, but Velvette? No.

The woman was crass, but by far the least foolish of the one-time trio.

It would have been utter madness to even try anyway, considering Alastor was (ironically) politically bulletproof in the wake of Vox’s fumbled play.  The Radio Demon was legitimized royalty now, his status written into the very fabric of Hell itself and acknowledged by Heaven.  There was no one left to tattle to and no other smokescreens to hide behind…not that Lucifer would have left his side again after the attack.

That wasn’t to say things were easy - far from it.

Every day that Alastor remained pregnant with his little half-divine terrors was another day his power was suppressed and his hormones went wild.  He was temperamental and tired, all teeth and irritation.  The only grace he had left was his husband’s infinite patience and willingness to put himself in the line of fire to avoid bites being taken out of any of the other residents.  Usually, the taste of his blood and the power that came from it tended to settle whatever strop the stag had fallen into.

But then…Lucifer wasn’t quite himself either, really, though far less volatile than his new queen.  Something in his inhuman instincts seemed to be responding to his mate’s hormonal state and increasingly close due date.  Just two weeks ago, Alastor had returned to their room for a nap to find the bed in utter shambles while Lucifer fussed over it, shoving pillows around like they had personally offended him while he chittered and chirped.  Finding out that he had been quite literally nesting was oddly charming in that oh so Lucifer way…peculiar and darling because of it.

More annoying of course had been Lucifer’s utter refusal to deconstruct the nest.  It ended up being one of the few arguments Alastor hadn’t managed to win.

It was how Alastor found himself rousing from sleep somewhere around midnight tucked into a fluffy nest of blankets, pillows, and soft toys (Lucifer insisted their children’s stuffed animals should have their scent).  His stomach was aching deep into the muscle and his underpants felt sticky.  They clung to his thighs like a second skin like his own personal tactile hell.  At first Alastor cursed his runaway libido before the soft tang of blood filled the air, informing him that he was quite wrong in his assumptions.

Damn.

With extreme effort, the Radio Demon levered himself up from the mattress, jostling Lucifer and plucking at his own waistband to try and see the problem before remembering that, thanks to his past-term stomach, he hadn’t even seen his feet in months.  There was no way he could see what was going on short of rolling out of bed and disrobing.

At his side, Lucifer grunted and sat up, blinking his glowing eyes in the dark, “Habibi?”

“Luci dear, this is going to seem uncouth, but I need a favour,” Alastor sighed, resigned to losing another scrap of dignity to this pregnancy, “Could you please examine my sleep pants? Something’s wrong.”

His husband was at his side in a flash, fully awake and kneeling at his hip.  Poor thing.  Ever since Alastor’s estimated due date had come and gone, he’d been on high alert.

Gentle, clawed hands reached for his waistband and gingerly rolled the trousers down until he had a clear view.  There was a slight pause and then a whuffing breath of relief, “Oh.”

“What oh ?” Alastor asked, irritation flaring as his stomach cramped up again.

“Nothing’s wrong, sweetheart.”

“Lucifer, I smell blood ,” the Overlord told him flatly.

“You would,” Lucifer said soothingly, petting his hips and helping remove the soiled pyjamas entirely, “It looks like your mucus plug came free.  This is natural.  Remember? Bel talked us through this.”

All of Alastor’s irritation vanished at the realization of what that meant.  The bloody show.  An early sign of labor.  After nine long months of strife and struggle, the twins were coming.

The twins were coming .

His husband was already fussing, tugging blankets away and rearranging them while he asked questions rapid fire, “Are you cramping? Have you started having contractions? It doesn’t look like your water’s broken yet, so we have time…”

“Lucifer, hush for a moment.”

The Devil fell still, staring at him with lantern-bright yellow eyes that gleamed in the darkness of their bedroom, utterly silent and unblinking.

Alastor breathed through the hard cramp that felt like someone had taken his entire womb in a fist and squeezed, trying to collect his thoughts before they could flee from him.  It was time and his body was preparing to bring the babies into the world.  They were no longer mysterious lives he was harboring.  They were little people he would be holding in his arms very soon…the fruit of his deflowering and three wild days with the man who was not just his king but his husband now.

He realized hysterically they’d been so busy preparing for their arrival that neither of them had even agreed on names .  Nine stupid months and they’d merely toyed with ideas in between preparing the nursery, work, and politics.

How could he be past his due date and still not be ready?

A muscular hand cupped his cheek and then he was staring into Lucifer’s face, “Habibi, it’s okay.  Tell me what’s happening.”

“...I believe I am having contractions.”

“Any idea how far apart?” Lucifer asked, speaking much more slowly now and stroking Alastor’s cheeks.

“No.  I’ve only been awake for a moment.  The last one just ended,” Alastor reported, cupping his stomach.

“Okay,” the Devil replied, reaching to his side of the bed and plucking up his phone, tapping away at the screen before Alastor could see a series of numbers beginning to count up, “I set a timer.  Tell me when you feel another one and we’ll figure out when to call Bel…unless you want her now?”

Alastor shook his head, “Non, ti zanj.  I’d like privacy a little longer.  To that end, would you help me up? Your spawn are pressing on something rather vital and I require the restroom.”

His need for the facilities was quite real, though he neglected to voice his secondary desire to not ruin Lucifer’s mattress when his water happened to break.

Obligingly, Lucifer helped him shuffle to the edge of the ridiculous nest that he’d built and got him up to his hooves, “Okay, but give me a shout if you have another contraction, okay? I want to make sure we get Bel here in time, especially if we end up having to…y’know.”

Yes, Alastor did know.

During his last check-up with Belphegor, they’d finally come around to the difficult discussion of delivery.  Though having steady meals of the finest angelic flesh in almost all of creation had done wonders for getting Alastor back at a healthy baseline, it couldn’t change his physical make-up.  His skinny Sinner body had been developing quickly to support the children, but his hips could only spread so far.  Belphegor had been skeptical that they’d spread far enough for a natural birth and had made her suspicions known.

What had followed was an unpleasant discussion about the very real possibility that a cesarean section would be necessary.  For once, Lucifer had been more unhappy with the medical discussion than Alastor had.

“Just give me a moment,” Alastor said in lieu of responding directly, letting his mate walk him over to the bathroom before disappearing inside.

~*~

It ended up taking another thirty minutes before Lucifer deemed it necessary to summon his fellow Sin and by that point Alastor had retreated to the tub, the last of his clothing abandoned while his body got with the program.  His water had thankfully broken after he’d gotten himself sequestered, so it was relatively easy to discreetly wash away the aftermath though the feeling of it clung to his skin.

The Queen of Sloth arrived surprisingly quickly (for her) and let herself into the bathroom without so much as a by your leave.  Alastor was used to her brusque manner by this point and tiredly accepted the invasion, remaining reclined in the tub as naked as a jay.  At this point she’d frankly seen more of him than his husband had and she wasn’t the one to knock him up.

She had graciously allowed him to remain in the tub during her preliminary examination, her extraneous eyes flaring wide for another one of those soul-scouring passes that left Alastor’s skin itching.  After that she had pulled back with a displeased look on her face.

The news had been what Lucifer was dreading.

With his pelvis still far too narrow and two healthy, full-term children clamoring to escape as his cervix softened, the delivery would have to be cesarean.  

That was that then.

The only good news was that Alastor’s labor seemed to be what she called ‘precipitous’ so they could get on with things somewhat quickly.  All too soon after her prognosis, Alastor found himself lying back in the nest with a screen blocking off the view of his stomach, Lucifer sat behind him so the stag’s head was pillowed in the Devil’s lap.  Lucifer was holding his hands tight and he could feel the tension in his husband’s fingers.

“Ti zanj, it’s fine,” Alastor said, though he had to admit to himself that it was bizarre to be unable to feel anything below his ribs (a series of injections had seen to that and he wasn’t overfond of the feeling.  Pain he understood, but this...)

Lucifer let out a rumbling chirp and squeezed his hands a little tighter.

Alastor’s nose crinkled as he could feel something happening beyond the curtain, but he wasn’t sure what.

Immediately, his husband was nuzzling into his temple, “Are you hurting? What do you need?”

“Hush, I can’t feel anything except some pressure.  Everything’s fine.  I need you to relax,” Alastor said even as the scent of his own blood bloomed on the air.

He pointedly clicked his ring against Lucifer’s.

Lips found their way into his hair and the Devil whispered into the crown of his head between his ears, “I can’t believe they’re almost here.  You did it, habibi.  You did so well.”

Pleasure fizzled in Alastor’s drugged, hormone-addled brain at the praise, but he merely murmured, “Bite your tongue, Lucifer.  It wouldn’t do to jinx things.”

“They’re going to be fine and they’re going to be beautiful,” Lucifer said stubbornly, alternating between squeezing Alastor’s hands and petting them as the sounds of surgery continued down below, “You worked so hard to keep them safe and we’re not going to fumble it at the finish line.”

Alastor let himself squeeze back as he felt the tug of a knife at his fascia without actually feeling it, “What do we call them? We…nn…we have neglected to decide…”

Lucifer nuzzled at the side of his head with an animalistic croon, “Nothing biblical please.”

“Agreed,” the Radio Demon grunted, turning his head to accept the kisses and caresses that he felt were due to him for having his insides exposed once again, thank you, “I would like them to have my surname…my maman’s…”

“DuBois-Morningstar, then?” Lucifer asked without fighting him.

“I would also like to be DuBois-Morningstar.  I will not lose my heritage.”

“Done, habibi,” the Devil purred against his ear…not seductively, but a literal purr that sounded congested and thick like a happy cat, “But the children…”

“Luci…dear…ti zanj…I am currently giving birth and numb.  I don’t believe I am in the right state of mind to propose ideas.  Not to mention, my first instinct would be Creole and, unfortunately, many of our names are biblical in nature…” 

 “...I have an idea, but shall we wait to meet them before we decide?”

“Mm,” Alastor grunted and curled closer into his husband’s lap while Belphegor worked busily away behind the screen , her silhouette barely visible.

Silence fell between them save for the occasional gasp as sensations of pressure or pulling broke through the numbness.  Lucifer’s hands never left Alastor’s and he kept up his soothing litany of rumbling, chesty purrs and crooning chirps.  Given the late (or perhaps it was early?) hour and the strain of his contractions, could the Radio Demon really be blamed for beginning to drift off during surgery?

But then around an hour later, Belphegor made a soft noise and there was a pulling feeling from down below…a moment of stillness…and then a strident cry breaking through the night.

“A princess,” Belphegor declared and then her silent nurse was ferrying over a tiny, damp baby to Alastor’s bedside.

The world imploded.

The breath stole from Alastor’s chest as he released Lucifer’s hands to reach for his daughter on instinct, feeling the way his entire universe collapsed in on itself like a dying star only to rearrange itself around her .  She was so, so small - snowy white like her father without the stain of sin marking her extremities.  Atop her head was a slick mop of golden blonde hair and two floppy little deer ears laid back against her skull.  She was wailing at the top of her tiny lungs, apple red cheeks flushed hot with distress until the moment Alastor brought her up to his chest.

Like magic, she quieted, snuffling into his fur with a hiccup.  Curled against her bottom was a skinny tail identical to Lucifer’s, the tip tucked tight to her hip as she hushed, staring up at her mother with luminous red-on-yellow eyes.

“A little girl,” Lucifer said with pure wonder in his voice and immediately their newborn princess was fixating on him.

Alastor felt the way the other man's breath caught.

“A little more,” Bel said from the end of the bed and there was another tug, “Your shy one is slippery. Then we let you heal.”

Alastor could barely breathe as the tiny creature he had protected and nurtured snuffled at him, curling up so tight.  Her breaths were small and quick, but her eyes were alert and bright…healthy.  She was beautiful.

Then another pull and suddenly Alastor was aware of a feeling of emptiness as his second child was extricated from his body.  Yet…unlike with his firstborn…it was quiet.  His heart did a painful jump in his chest when no rattling cry filled the air like before.  Clutching his daughter tight to his chest, he tried to sit up, tried to look around the screen to see…

“He’s fine,” Belphegor said sharply with a tone of reprimand, “Awake.  Breathing.  Doesn’t want to cry.”

“He?” Lucifer asked, voice tremulous.

“A prince.”

“Give him to me,” Alastor demanded and then the nurse was reappearing with his son .

In an instant, he found a second child laid on his chest, trembling but with eyes as bright as his sister’s indicating his wellness.  His skin was covered in a downy layer of fur the same colour as his maman’s, a softly greyed out mocha.  Instead of the high circles his sister had been born with, their little boy had a spray of creamy freckles dusting his tiny button nose.  His head was crowned with wispy scarlet curls, but oddly Alastor didn’t recognize the peculiar ears or tail that adorned the sides of his head or the base of his spine.

Lucifer peered down at his newborn son and went very still, “...How in Hell?”

Alastor twisted his neck to look up at his husband, watching him warily, “Is something wrong?”

“No, no, it’s just…” he reached down with careful fingers to trace their son’s ears, watching them flick and twitch, “Those are mine.  From before the fall, those were mine.  The first of us…we were God’s flock…”

The Radio Demon looked back down to his twins, watching as they snuggled together against his fur, rooting for his scent when he cradled them close, “My hair and your ancient heritage...what a little surprise our prince is…”

“Your hair? Habibi, you don’t have curls.”

“I did once,” Alastor responded, stroking the back of their little boy’s head while he marveled at the sight of fluffy curls so like his own when he had been alive.

Beyond the curtain, Belphegor and her nurse worked in silence while the new royal couple spent the first precious moments with their newborn heirs.  Alastor was content to ignore her, studying the tiny souls he had brought into the world…half divine and half Sinner, equal to only one other being in all of creation.  Only Charlie was like them.

“You said you had names,” Alastor said quietly, unwilling to raise his voice around his little ones lest he disturb their first moments.

“...I do,” Lucifer said and Alastor could feel the vibration of his rich voice from where they were pressed together.  His husband reached forward to stroke a gentle claw over their daughter’s brow, “Pippin.”

Then he turned his hand to trace the delicate freckles of their son’s cheek, “Cameo.”

Alastor watched his children for a moment and felt a swoop of protectiveness when he noted how very small they were compared to their father, “...While not unappealing, they are peculiar.  Wherever did you find them?”

Lucifer chuckled and the sound was like rolling thunder on a late summer sky, “...They’re apples.  Different kinds of apples.”

The Radio Demon blinked, unable to tear his eyes from his children, “Apples? Why would you choose that?”

The Overlord didn’t anticipate the soft kiss pressed to the back of his head as the king whispered so only he could hear, “Because I keep finding forbidden fruit and yet I regret nothing.  The apple was my downfall, but if I hadn’t given it to mankind I wouldn’t have Charlie, I never would have had you, and we certainly wouldn’t have our children, my queen of everything.”

Well.  What was Alastor meant to say to that?

“Very well then, ti zanj…Pippin and Cameo they shall be.  Our own little apples,” Alastor said, making a fond coo as his daughter began nosing around for his nipple, hungry for the first time in a world that couldn't tend to all of her needs immediately.  And yet…the moment she was eased away from her brother in search of sustenance, she began to squirm angrily.

Alastor huffed a tired laugh and carefully adjusted both newborns so they could be pressed together as much as possible while still nursing, close and warm.  Feeling his children latch for the first time tilted his world on its axis, the feeling both queasy and yet fulfilling at the same time.  There was so much he would have to get used to, and yet he didn’t resent the effort as he watched little Cameo’s tiny lamb’s tail begin to wag in quick bursts as he took in his first real meal.

His children.

His .

Tiny fists clutched at his pelt as if he were the only shelter in a storm.  Had his maman felt this the first time she’d held his miniscule, slimy body in her arms? This feeling of surreal awe and bone-shattering newness?

Lucifer shored up his quavering defenses with a simple kiss to his temple and a single word.

“Beautiful.”

~*~

In the end, Alastor and Lucifer were granted a week of blissful peace with their freshly minted prince and princess before the world came knocking again.

A little bassinet had taken up a place right next to the side of the bed that was usually Lucifer’s.  On a normal day, the Radio Demon preferred the ‘defensible’ half of the bed, feeling quite safe tucked up between the king and the wall.  However, once the children had arrived, he’d bullied Lucifer to his usual interior spot so he could sleep next to the twins.  Lucifer certainly didn’t fuss, finding it charming the way Alastor would always roll to his side so he could drape his long-fingered hand into the temporary cot.

He was there now, deathly still in sleep with his hand curled close to his infant son.  

Lucifer sat up against the pillows in the dark, just watching his small family.  It still hurt the way his husband would seem to vanish from his hellish body in the throes of sleep, especially now that the little ones were born and there were no more heartbeats on the radio to console him.  Yet, to his delight, he found that the twins, much like Charlie, didn’t experience the same sort of torpor their mother did.  They still huffed and breathed and squirmed as they dreamed, Cameo striving endlessly to be as close to his maman as possible.

The children were beautiful and already so different from one another.  Pippi was…opinionated.  It was the nicest way to put it.  She was already somewhat larger than her twin and endlessly fussy.  She made her mood known frequently and at impressive volume.  Their princess wasn’t prepared to suffer a single indignity in her new existence without letting absolutely everyone know about it.  Lucifer was already wrapped around her little finger and the feeling seemed to be mutual, given the way her father seemed the only one able to console her some days.

Cameo on the other hand? He was small and watchful, quiet as a churchmouse with his massive eyes and twitchy tail.  He’d never said it, but Lucifer knew Alastor fretted over their son, constantly trying to anticipate the needs of an infant who wasn’t prepared to give them a single clue.  Cam didn’t seem to mind the hovering though, already deeply attached to his mother in a way Lucifer could only define as ‘sweet’.

The one thing both children shared, however, was an utter hatred of being parted from one another.

The one thing that could draw a whine out of their prince was being unable to see his sister, and of course Pippin was unafraid to voice her displeasure when Cam wasn’t near her.  They were intrinsically drawn to one another and had been since their first moment of life, a fact Lucifer prayed would continue into the future to stave off arguments as the years rolled by.

His family.

Cam yawned hugely in his sleep, wiggling like a tadpole under Lucifer’s watchful eyes.  He knew the twins would probably wake up soon for a feeding, but best to let their maman sleep until it was time.

Alastor was healing and far faster than a mortal would have done, but caring for twins while recovering from his c-section was taking its toll on him.  He’d been out of sorts the last couple of days as well, reaching for his stomach that no longer swelled with their children or losing his balance now that he could walk again.  It wasn’t post-partum, not quite, but he was struggling to get used to yet another new normal after almost a hundred years of same, same, same.  First he’d had to get used to being pregnant, then barely had time to cope with being married before having to adjust to being a parent in real time.

He’d been somewhat subdued of late and Lucifer had definitely been keeping an eye on his queen.

Pippi let out a whimper and Lucifer smiled ruefully to himself.  So much for letting maman sleep.

Alastor’s hand twitched almost immediately and Lucifer watched as his previously slack body took a breath, ears flicking and muscles livening up beneath the thin robe he’d taken to wearing while he recovered.  The Radio Demon let out a low hum and pressed himself up on one hand, looking down into the bassinet at the twins.

“Pe bouch ou, ti pòm. Manman la. Ou grangou deja?” He asked softly, hands dipping in to retrieve Cameo first.

Sensing he’d be needed to avoid a meltdown, Lucifer slid from his warm place in bed to retrieve Pippin while Alastor re-situated himself, cradling their son in one arm and shifting his robe with the other.  All the while the Radio Demon continued to murmur softly to their son in the language of his long lost past.

That was another thing.  Alastor had always sprinkled in a bit of his family tongue here and there without thinking much of it, mostly affectionately.  However with the twins it seemed to be his first instinct, that language.  Lucifer didn’t know if it was a conscious decision to keep his heritage alive in his children or if it was just…something that felt right.

Then ruby eyes were focusing on him and all questions funneled right out of his head as Alastor whispered, “You can hand me Pippin now, sha.”

“Okay,” he whispered back and gently deposited their princess in Alastor’s free arm, helping to shift his robe so she had room to latch.  She went with a grumble, tiny clawed hands wrapping into her maman’s ruff and clutching.

Crisis averted.

Lucifer spared himself a moment to watch Alastor carefully cradling both of their children while they ate, their small hands holding him tight.  He was so fucking beautiful that, for a minute, the Devil himself was dumbstruck.

But then his fussy buck was raising a brow and sniping, “Don’t be perverse, ti zanj.”

“I’m not,” Lucifer said after a moment, seating himself on the edge of their bed, “I have some standards.”

“Some.”

Lucifer huffed in amusement, “Spicy this morning.  Can I get you anything? I can make a quick run down to the kitchen.”

“Non,” Alastor said wearily, ears a little cock-eyed from where they’d been pressed into his pillow still, “Just come back to bed.  I intend to get some more sleep after these two have eaten.”

Helpless to resist, Lucifer leaned in to kiss the silky hair behind one ear, “I’d hoped they let you rest a little longer, habibi.”

“Hmmm,” Alastor replied, looking down at the twins, “It’s hardly their fault for being hungry.  Barely a week old and this little haven is all they know…”

Alastor hadn’t left their room since giving birth.

At first it had been a matter of being on bedrest while he healed from the worst of having been literally cut open.  After that, it had just felt safer not to brave the stairs or the elevator while he was still unsteady on his hooves.  They were still sort of in that place where Alastor wasn’t quite sturdy enough to be up much…and there was likely something primal there as well, some urge not to expose his children to the outside world until he was ready.

He’d been a good sport, of course…had let Charlie and Vaggie in to meet the babies.  Lucifer was grateful for that considering their half-sister had been practically beside herself with delight.  Alastor had even allowed her to hold them, which had surprised Lucifer a bit.  He never understood why it continued to astonish him when Alastor exhibited his fondness for Charlie…sure, in little ways, but it was there.

“Not going stir crazy, yet?” Lucifer asked, returning to his spot in bed so he could slide under the covers next to them.

“It’s incredibly difficult to be bored when I sleep most of the time and find my hands full with your daughter for the remainder,” Alastor said lightly.

His husband laughed, “ My daughter? Since when is Pippi just mine?”

“She’s your daughter whenever she gets…theatrical.  Surely she inherited it from you, so I expect you to take responsibility.”

Overcome by the sheer hilarity of that statement, Lucifer buried his face in his husband’s shoulder with a snort, “Me? Alastor, you are the most melodramatic creature I have ever met.  Pippin is absolutely your daughter.”

Cameo chose to end the argument before it started by finishing his very early breakfast with a yawn, snuggling impossibly closer to Alastor’s warmth (not unlike his father).  Alastor’s arch look immediately smoothed into an expression of tenderness and he gave the boy a gentle bounce in the crook of his arm, “Se tout sa, ti prens? Ou ta dwe manje plis.”

Cam’s little lamb ears swayed softly, but he offered nothing more than that.

“Ti gason enposib…” Alastor tutted, but continued rocking him while his sister ate her fill.

“He’s fine, Al.  You know Bel said he was healthy as a horse, just on the smaller side,” Lucifer soothed, leaning to kiss their prince on the back of his scarlet head.

The new position was perhaps the only reason he noticed a gold letter settling onto the bedside table, its envelope emblazoned with a star.

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed sharply at the object, knowing perfectly well who it was from.  No lower angel would have been able to penetrate the intricately woven wards around this room.  The hotel, maybe, but not here.  Cursing under his breath, Lucifer once more surrendered his warm spot in bed to pluck the letter up from the table, clocking the moment Alastor realized it was there.  Fathomless vein-bright eyes tracked his every move, suddenly suspicious and with good reason to be.

“What in Hell could they possibly want now?” His new queen asked with an unpleasant set to his jaw.

“We’re about to find out,” the king growled, not trusting the letter or its sender enough to just ignore it.  He slid the flap open with his thumb claw and pulled the missive free.

“Lucifer Morningstar, if you lie to me again…”

Alastor’s voice wasn’t amused.

The Devil shook his head after taking a minute to read, “I don’t intend to, sweetheart.  Michael wants us to officially present the twins at the Heaven Embassy as a matter of diplomatic courtesy.  They also congratulated us on getting married, if that counts for anything.”

“It doesn’t,” the Overlord said flatly, running his claws through his daughter’s hair while she ate her fill, his ears pinning back in displeasure.

Lucifer winced and gently took Cam so Alastor could focus on their daughter.

“I take it,” Alastor said tartly, adjusting so he could hold Pippi with both hands while she continued to nurse voraciously, “That this is not an invitation we can decline.”

His husband sighed, rocking their son gently in his arm, watching as huge jewel-tone eyes began to flutter, “....Look at it like an Overlord meeting, habibi.  I could probably refuse, but it will come back to bite us down the road.  Besides…I think Michael is on our side…sort of…and I wouldn’t like to potentially ruin a relationship with an ally.”

“They wanted to kill me,” Alastor hissed, though the sound was tired and thin, lacking his usual acid.

The Devil sighed, “You know what? They did. But…they were also the ones who found a way for you to live.  They’re the best advocate we have and, like it or not, I at least owe them some gratitude.  The marriage contract saved your life and I am grateful to them for that.”

He pressed a kiss to the Radio Demon’s temple and was gratified when Alastor leaned into it instead of pulling away.

“Forgive me,” Lucifer whispered, “They gave me a way to save your existence so we do kind of owe them.”

Lucifer felt the instant his words registered with Alastor, the dealmaker himself swaying into his husband’s heat as Pippi unlatched with a huge, squeaking yawn.  

The Devil reached to right his husband’s robe, happy to stare at his milk-dewed chest all day but knowing perfectly well the stag preferred his modesty.  As he worked, Alastor wiped their daughter’s lips and spoke, “...If there’s a debt, I suppose it would be wiser to pay it now rather than wait for interest to accrue.  When do they want to meet?”

“Later today, but I want you to go back to bed and get some more sleep first, Al,” Lucifer said, watching as Pippi grew lazy in her maman’s arms, full and content.

“Bold of you to assume I will be able to sleep knowing I will be exposing my children to the Archangel later today,” Alastor groused, running a single fingertip up and down the bridge of Pippi’s nose to urge her back into peaceful dreams.

“Al, Michael won’t hurt the twins.  Please get some sleep so you’re ready to face them, okay?” Lucifer sighed and snaked his free arm around his husband’s waist.

“What assurance do you have?”

Ah.

There was the bile he’d been expecting.

Lucifer made a soft tiger’s chuff to soothe his mate, “Because they didn’t have to give me another option.  Michael has a narrow way of thinking, but they’re not stupid or cruel.  They wouldn’t have given you and the babies a way out just to do you harm now.  Michael is…well…they’re direct.  If they wanted you and the children dead, they would have just done it.”

“Charming,” Alastor sighed, though his perpetual smile softened as he looked down to see their daughter dozing away.

“Trust me, they’re not and they know it,” Lucifer said and moved carefully to put Cam into the cot.  He turned to his husband and offered a sly grin, “I’m the one who got the charm.”

Alastor snorted faintly and handed Pippi over, watching like a hawk as she went into the bassinet next to her brother, “Heaven must have been in short supply then.”

Oh, sass was it?

Lucifer’s eyes hooded and he leaned back over the bed, running his cheek along the furry edge of Alastor’s ear, “I think I’m charming enough.”

“Do you now?” the Radio Demon asked, reclining back against his pillows so he could gaze up at the Devil.

Never one to miss an opening, Lucifer slipped into bed, pressing up on an elbow until he was breathing against his husband’s lips, “I charmed Alastor DuBois into bed, didn’t I?”

“Hmmm,” Alastor replied, sliding hands up his husband’s bare chest and what a rush it was to feel that ring on his finger, cool and real, “And what if it was the other way around? What if Alastor DuBois charmed the Devil?”

“Baby, I can live with that,” the fallen angel crooned and pressed their lips together in a kiss.

He’d never get tired of feeling that sharp smile pressed up against his, he was sure…which was why it was a tragedy when the hands on his chest pushed him back.  Lucifer groaned as they parted, leveling his husband with a rather impressive pout if he did say so himself.  Alastor merely looked amused, settling himself down under the covers.

“Not inconsiderable charm or no, ti zanj, I thought you wanted me to go back to sleep?”

“You’re a cruel man, Mr. Radio Demon,” Lucifer relented, unwilling to push his husband, and settled back in his own spot in bed obediently.

“And you love me anyway, do you not?” Alastor teased, rolling back to face the bassinet that held their children.

Lucifer smiled at his back and was quick to curl up to his husband, draping an arm around that trim waist and nuzzling into his nape, “You’re going to abuse the hell out of that, aren’t you?”

“Perhaps.”

~*~

The babies allowed Alastor to sleep a few hours more until Hell’s blazing sun was high in the sky, casting the bedroom in lush reds through the heavy curtains that covered every window.

He woke once more to the sound of pitiful fussing from none other but his daughter, squirming in the bassinet.  There was a distinct scent in the air that told him perfectly well what had roused her.  Rather than recoiling, Alastor was sliding himself out from the protective circle of Lucifer’s arms and getting himself out of bed to see to her.  How odd it was…the great and powerful Radio Demon dutifully rising to get wrist deep in dirty diapers.

Alastor wasn’t surprised in the least when Lucifer was up only a moment later, kissing him behind the ear and murmuring, “You took care of feeding.  I can do this part.  Why don’t you go get a shower?”

If ever Alastor had harbored even the slightest concern about Lucifer’s capability as a father, the fallen angel had done everything to disabuse him of that notion in their first week as parents.

“Very well,” Alastor said, retrieving Pippin to hand her over to her sire, “Please check on Cameo as well.”

Lucifer graced him with a smile, “You don’t even need to ask.  Go on and relax for a minute.  Call if you need me.”

Alastor nodded and excused himself to the bathroom, shrugging out of his robe once he was behind the closed door.  He paused in front of the large mirror over the sink, taking himself in.

His Sinner body had been working overtime to heal him from carrying the twins, his cannibalistic nature already driving his body to consume whatever spare fat he’d gained over the months.  Already his ribs were starting to become prominent again as if his babies had never been there.  Alastor had no idea why that struck a discordant note in his mind, but it did.  He stroked a hand over his stomach and felt the transverse scar marking the area between his pelvic bones…the only proof his children had ever been in him.

Apparently the scar would be sticking around, as Queen Belphegor’s medical equipment carried a very, very low angelic metal content to ensure surgical incisions wouldn’t close as soon as she’d made them on the rare occasion she was called to work on a Sinner.  It wasn’t enough to do him harm, but it was enough to leave a lasting mark.  Not even Lucifer’s mating bite was that enduring.

Alastor sighed.

Being pregnant had been harrowing, truly.  When he hadn’t been ill, he’d been hungry or paranoid.  He’d been unbalanced and exhausted almost all the time, and carrying his children had very nearly gotten him killed.  Yet…

The Overlord tapped the golden tattoo over his womb that had yet to fade.  He wondered if it ever would.

Shaking himself, Alastor moved away from the mirror and turned on the shower, letting the water run hot as he stepped beneath the spray.  He was grateful to have a husband with hooves like his own as the bottom of the shower was already modified to be forgiving to his particular unguligrade conformation.  There was no risk of slipping as scalding water sluiced over the porcelain.

He reached for the shampoo that had long ago migrated from his own shower into Lucifer’s and didn’t question how long it had been since he’d washed in his private quarters.  Alastor smoothed the soap into his fur, lathering away the last vestiges of sleep.  His fingers slid across the raw edge of the new scar Vox had left on him and his smile tightened.  The fur had yet to grow back there and he wondered if it ever would.  Holy injuries had a way of sticking around and the long scar on his chest was proof.

Alastor was a wreck.

It wasn’t often he allowed insecurity to enter his heart, but for just a moment he was forced to acknowledge that he was a mess.  Alastor was an emaciated cannibal Sinner with more scars than skin at this point.  Lucifer had seen him fat, angry, sick, wounded, and so tired he could barely keep his hooves under him.  This had been the creature God’s favourite son had seen the first time they’d ever gone to bed together.  This ravaged thing.

Despite that…

The Radio Demon raised his hand and regarded the ring on his finger.

No.

No, now was not the time to indulge in such thoughts.  Lucifer had loved him enough to fight for his life…to mark him as the new Queen of Hell.  Lucifer looked at him like he hung the moon and that was what he would cleave to…his pretty little snake’s glowing regard.  Yes…that was the way to think, especially when they would be facing down the Archangel Michael shortly.  Ragged and tattered Alastor may be, but he was Queen and no other.

Let Heaven and Hell choke on him.

Thus bolstered, he finished his ablutions and toweled off, sliding into a clean robe before reappearing out into the main bedroom.  Lucifer was settled in his armchair (the other was Alastor’s for when they had dinner together or whiled away the evening at card games) With Pippi against one shoulder with a burping rag, Cam cradled carefully in one unfurled wing.  The man was still in his pajamas, hair an absolute fright, with what was likely spit up on his shoulder…and he’d never looked more handsome.

There he was with Alastor’s children…caring for them… wanting them in a way Alastor’s father had never wanted him.

His momentary loss of confidence thoroughly shaken, Alastor strode over to his husband and leaned to kiss him, ears high and alert.

Lucifer melted into his kiss and smiled against his mouth, “Mmmm, and what was that for?”

“I appreciate seeing you with the children,” Alastor said simply, not caring to hide his thoughts from the man who had seen the worst of him and stayed.

The king melted at his admission and his smile became a private, contented thing, “...This was my favourite part with Charlie.  Lils…she was busy so much at first.  I think pregnancy was hard for her to come to terms with.  She was a champ about it but…yeah.  I think there was some trauma there we weren’t ready to deal with.  I guess in some way she was resisting being mommy because she felt like it was giving in to what Heaven intended for her…”

Curious.

Alastor hummed and gently reached to retrieve Cam from his father’s wing, watching as his precious baby boy’s face lit up in a beatific smile at the sight of him, “And when did that change?”

Lucifer puffed out a breath and tapped on Pippi’s back, not flinching when she released a gas bubble, “I guess…it was a lot of things, habibi.  She started wanting Charlie around more once she could walk and talk and wasn’t so…helpless.  And I guess I started pulling away a bit.  But I promise, that won’t happen again.”

“I know it won’t,” Alastor said, stroking a claw over his son’s ear, “Because I’ll eat you if it does.”

If anything, Lucifer looked grateful, “...Where would I be without you holding me accountable, huh?”

“It doesn’t bear thinking about.  Now, up with you.  Shower and dress.  I’d like to get this meeting with Michael over with, if you please.”

“...Please don’t bite my sibling, habibi,” Lucifer pleaded even as he stood, disposed of the burping rag in the appropriate hamper, and handed Pippi over.

Alastor accepted his daughter with grace and sniffed, “That depends entirely on them.  Now.  Get ready.”

~*~

It ended up taking about an hour to get the entire family bathed and dressed to be presentable for a meeting with his freshest in-law, but before mid-morning Alastor was stepping through a portal to the Heaven Embassy.

He was kitted out in his finest suit (pleased to find that they fit him once more), antlers polished and hair neatly coiffed.  If it weren’t for the swaddled baby Cameo in his arms, he could almost be mistaken for the old Radio Demon from almost a year ago.

Alastor was neat as a pin and sharp as a razor, his eyes half-lidded to exude a sense of calm his thundering heart didn’t necessarily feel.  His son had never felt so small knowing he was going to be presented to the most powerful of Lucifer’s siblings.  At his side, his husband was dressed in his most ostentatious finery, his shoulders squared and his head held high while he cradled his daughter in his muscular arms.

His husband.  His king.

Lucifer unfurled his wings almost as soon as they touched down, shielding his mate and children from sight as he ushered them into the Embassy.  

Alastor resisted the urge to examine everything in the main lobby, instead moving forward with his chin lifted and his gaze fixed ahead - walking through the space like he owned it.  He belonged here.  He was the Queen of Hell and the mother of Lucifer’s two newest heirs.  He had been invited by name.  His presence here was not to be questioned and he wouldn’t behave like it was.  At his side, Lucifer had chosen the same tactic, standing tall and proud with their daughter snuffling away sleepily in the crook of his arm.

They made a point to ignore the golden scroll that unfurled almost sullenly at the main desk (as if it knew perfectly well that it would be), strolling back to a meeting room that Lucifer guided them along to.

The atmosphere of the Embassy was…unpleasant - like Alastor was surrounded by a cloud of mosquitoes that never bit him, but hovered cloyingly over his fur.  He wondered how much more grotesque the feeling would have been in a time before he had been formally granted the arcane rights due to the Queen of Hell.  Lucifer didn’t look terribly bothered, but he was, fallen or not, still an angel…and of course the children were of his celestial bloodline, so they were content to doze.  It was no wonder there were no guards stationed at the Embassy. 

Who would be mad enough to trespass?

Alastor’s brow furrowed when he thought again about how Vox’s final deranged play to rat him out to Heaven and realized he had known one Sinner who was.

He stroked Cam’s forehead absently.

Then Lucifer was there, leaning in to whisper in his ear and pushing some of his tidy fringe back, “It’s okay, Al, I don’t like this place either.”

Alastor allowed himself one moment of comfort before straightening away from his husband and smoothing a hand down his baby son’s back, “Hm.”

Rather than being offended at the sudden stand-offishness, Lucifer simply nodded, removed his hand, and didn’t try to lean into him again.  

What a blessing that his husband truly seemed to understand that this was a situation that would call for Alastor’s public-facing Overlord persona.  He couldn’t be the Alastor of the twilight hours here…the man of tender touches and soft conversation….not when they were preparing to meet one of the few beings in creation who could rightfully be called Lucifer’s peer.

Not when their one-week-old twins were in their arms.

At their back, the door opened once more and Alastor felt a wave of pure, holy power washing over him and pressing down on his shoulders.  He recognized it immediately, a divine mirror of his own husband’s striking aura.  The Radio Demon braced himself against it and made a point of turning slowly to regard the archangel he was now tangentially related to (another fact he was happy not to dwell too hard upon).

The Archangel Michael was a radiant echo of the creature Lucifer had been a little over nine months ago, petite and delicate in appearance.  His skin was pale, his hair blonde as wheat, but the similarities ended there.

His eyes were a frosty, piercing blue that seemed to look through Alastor more than at him, and the doll-like circles on his cheeks were a matching azure hue.  His hair was longer than Lucifer’s had ever been, tied off neatly at his nape with a ribbon.  Most tellingly of all was the soft pair of lamb’s ears at each side of his head - a perfect match of little Cameo’s.  The Radio Demon’s claws readjusted on his son ever so slightly, reminded sharply that he held a tiny sliver of Heaven itself in his arms.

A weighty silence filled the private meeting room and Alastor felt his hackles raise instinctively under the ancient angel’s intense scrutiny.

But then the archangel was folding his gloved hands neatly behind his back and offering a half bow, “Your Majesties.  You were prompt.”

Lucifer spoke first, which was probably wise considering Alastor was still fighting not to wrap his mind around the fact that he’d given birth to the Archangel Michael’s nephew, “Al and I agreed that we owed you the courtesy.  Y’know…since you went to bat for us in your own way.”

“Selecting the option that averted a second holy war was courtesy enough for me, brother, though I am gratified by your consideration,” Michael responded.

Aiming for an affectation of levity, Alastor scoffed, “A second holy war?”

“Habibi,” his husband replied, pinning him with a smouldering stare that told him perfectly well what the unspoken reality of the conversation was.

Lucifer would have raged over his loss…would have been furious enough that even Michael feared the outcome.

Alastor wanted very much to kiss him.

Michael was speaking again, apparently not noticing the charged moment between the royal couple, “I’ve no intention of detaining you long, Majesties.  You must understand there are matters of business Heaven wishes to see to and then you are free to proceed as you will.”

“Alright then, Mikey,” Lucifer puffed out a breath and approached his sibling, “Hold out your arms, I guess.”

Alastor’s spine tensed as his daughter was removed from his immediate vicinity and walked over to the being who could well have been his executioner under different circumstances.  He watched carefully as the archangel gave their brother a curious look, but did as bidden - holding their arms straight out like an unwieldy forklift.  God in Heaven, this creature acted as though they had never even seen an infant before.

But then Lucifer was correcting their position and placing Pippin in their arms…whereupon the Archangel Michael, Commander of God’s Armies and Chief Among the Host looked like they’d been handed a bomb.  Their eyes went wide and their face went tight, arms flexing like they couldn’t decide whether to straighten and hold the infant away from them and risk dropping her or holding completely, unnaturally still.  Why, if Alastor didn’t know any better, he’d almost reckon the archangel was scared .

“Uh…” Lucifer said in a tone that was almost encouraging, “You need to support her neck, Michael.  She uh…”

The baby in Michael’s arms squirmed and Alastor’s ears pinned back instinctively, anticipating the forthcoming auditory detonation, “She’s a baby, not a sack of potatoes.”

“I’ve never…” Michael said and tried to readjust, which only served to rouse Pippi further.

Alastor scoffed, “Held a child?”

“Seen one,” Lucifer amended quietly on Michael’s behalf, doing his best to help his sibling.

The Radio Demon frowned with his eyes, “How in Hell do you go your whole multi-millennia existence without seeing an infant? Children die in droves on Earth and surely not all of them are consigned to punishment down below.”

Attention torn between their daughter and his husband, Lucifer spoke quietly, “Ah…babies are sort of different in Heaven.  They don’t…there are no deeds to be judged for good or ill.  If one dies on Earth, their soulstuff is renewed to try again.”

“I see, and children of an older sort are different?” Alastor asked with a touch of bitterness, thinking of the very young souls who occupied Cannibal Town.

Pippi was squirming now, trying to twist and look for her brother.

Lucifer winced, “It’s…there’s no strict cut-off in Father’s design.  It’s like…once the soul has accumulated enough acts and conscious decisions to tip whatever scales are in place, they can be judged.  Before that…it’s kind of a try-again deal.”

Alastor wasn’t entirely sure he was impressed with that answer.

However, he didn’t have long to mull it over before his highly irate daughter began to screech like a warning klaxon, screaming her head off until her whole face flushed red.  Michael looked horrified, eyes going impossibly wider in their face and lamb’s ears swishing back to try and escape the sound.  They looked to Lucifer for aid, who grimaced and stepped forward to take the infant princess.

“Uh…sorry Mikey.  She…”

“I did not intend to harm her,” Michael hastened to say in a tone that at least approached apologetic, taking their hands back immediately as soon as Pippin was clear.

Lucifer was bouncing their daughter and walking her over to Cameo so she could be close to him, trying desperately to calm her and to keep their son from joining the symphony of distress, “What? You didn’t hurt her.  She’s just mad.  Pippin hates being away from her brother.”

Rather than make a liar of her father, their fussy princess began to calm as soon as she was turned to see her twin, still sniffly and out of sorts, but no longer wailing to bring the house down.

Clearly trying to recover their composure, Michael brushed down the front of their regalia and straightened their shoulders, “So your heirs are loyal to one another.  We are pleased to observe this.  Have you decided on a line of ascension at this time or shall I pose the question again at a later date?”

The question struck Alastor as particularly odd and he tilted his head at an upsetting angle (half out of habit and half to watch Lucifer’s sibling squirm), offering his son a finger to hold as he did so, “Why, the matter is already decided, isn’t it? Charlie is due the throne.”

Michael blinked at Alastor, “This is not so.  Did you not read the contract?”

“He was a little busy,” Lucifer said, turning to look at Michael as well, “And…y’know, so was I.  I might have skimmed it a little.  What are you talking about?”

“...Brother, part and parcel to exchanging your queens is a cessation of the line of the first in favour of the second.  Princess Charlotte, as offspring of the first, has no claim to the throne of the second,” Michael said very slowly as if they were explaining to a small child, “Charlotte is not of Queen Alastor’s line or house.”

“No, but she’s part of mine ,” Lucifer protested.

“The entire point of the marriage contract was to clean up the lines of succession, Lucifer.  Think not you that maintaining Charlotte’s claim to the throne runs counter to such a goal?”

Alastor freed his finger briefly to hold up a hand and was gratified when both angels immediately stopped bickering, turning to regard him.

Slowly, he walked to a chair and noted the way both of their eyes tracked him.  He sat gracefully and leaned into the high back of the thing, Lucifer trailing in his wake like a satellite so their daughter could be near her twin.  Alastor took a deep breath and gave his son back his finger, quietly lamenting when Cameo chose to gum it right in front of the Commander of Heaven’s Legions.  

Ah well.

Once he was sure he’d built the tension enough and all ears were turned to him, Alastor spoke, “Well, this is hardly worth disagreeing over and the solution is painfully simple.”

Michael’s golden brows dropped in confusion, a mirror for Lucifer’s.  

“I claim Charlotte Morningstar as my daughter,” Alastor hummed and looked down the line of his elegant nose as if both angels were being particularly stupid (they were), “Her own mother has been absent for seven years…nearing eight now…and therefore I move to formally adopt her into my line.  Therefore, as eldest child of my house, she has claim to the throne.  It neither compromises the ascendancy as it stands, nor violates the contract my husband signed on our behalf.”

Two pairs of eyes continued to stare at him.  

The golden pair regarded him with a sort of wonder, just a little bit damp at the edges.  Really, Lucifer could afford to stop doubting Alastor’s devotion to Charlie any day now and that would be simply splendid.  The blue set was considering, and Alastor recognized that look…calculating and looking for any weaknesses in the wording that would lead to a pitfall down the road.  They at least didn't seem eager to reject the proposal outright, however.

“...And you would be willing to sign a formal addendum stating such?” Michael asked.

“Indeed.  It seems quite silly otherwise.  Charlie is already two-hundred years old and an independent leader in her own right.  Not to mention, she has already had dealings with Heaven and has established some lines of communication.  It seems foolish to rip up a road already in the process of paving just to lay another, no?”

Michael nodded sharply after a minute, folding their hands away again though their expression was still assessing, “And you’ve no reservations on the matter of removing your natural born children from the throne and the power that it brings?”

Alastor sighed gustily and propped his cheek on a fist, elbow balanced on the arm of the chair, “Ah yes, power hungry Sinner that I am.  Very well.  If that’s the part of the programme we’ve arrived at, I’m happy to take my cue.  Listen carefully, archangel.  I’ll never deny the necessity of  power and the accruing of it, but I am in all things a self-made man.  What status I had before Lucifer was independently gained and held.  I hardly need to use my children as tools to carve out more.”

He threw his head back and laughed as another thought occurred to him, “And really, archangel, is there anywhere higher to climb? I am Queen of Hell in this moment.  I am one of only two masters of the damned in all of creation.  What higher title could I possibly maneuver for?”

Something in Michael’s face smoothed out and Alastor chose to count that as a win, thank you.

Still, he couldn’t resist needling the archangel a bit, “Now then, I assume you’ll need to be presented with Cameo as well…?”

He moved as if to hold the baby out and valiantly suppressed a guffaw as Michael quite obviously flinched, feathers fluffing slightly in alarm, “No.  No.  I believe I have seen what I need of the children.  That will do.  Heaven will hear my word and be content.”

Lucifer finally came forward and claimed a seat next to Alastor, pressing their knees together where his sibling couldn’t see, “Michael…while we have you, I want to discuss something other than the kids.”

“Speak,” the commander said.

“...I think I’d like for us to discuss annual meetings and be proactive here before your people get a crazy idea to start exterminations again or something worse.  I’m not…I have no designs on Heaven and frankly I don’t think Alastor does either.  I just want to raise my kids and try to be better at this whole family thing.  I want Charlie to have room to dream big,” Lucifer said, rocking Pippi slowly, “So maybe it’s time I actually shoulder the burden of ruling and we make some good faith gestures, huh?”

Michael’s expression of unease shifted into something that might be called curious on a more expressive individual, “You are suggesting diplomatic transparency.”

“Free of coercion or strongarm tactics, yeah.  Nobody ending anybody’s existence.  Heaven and Hell are meant to be mirrors of each other but I sort of felt sorry for myself and let Hell be this weird vassal state for too long.  Alastor kinda…convinced me I need to be active again.”

Alastor held his chin high as Michael looked to him once more and the archangel said, “...I see.”

“If you have misgivings, I invite you to share them with the class,” the Radio Demon couldn’t resist letting his tone slip to something decidedly snide.  

He never had been fond of being examined by white men…though Michael was whiter than any by far and wasn’t necessarily a ‘man’.  That was beside the point.

“Misgivings?” Michael said mildly, seeming to entirely miss the snap of Alastor’s tone (or else content to ignore it), “Nay.  I am perhaps disappointed in myself for failing to properly take your measure, Your Majesty.”

“Oh? Do enlighten me,” Alastor trilled, his ruby eyes slitting as his radio aura grew.

“Lucifer’s pet monster, I called you.  I have never understood my brother’s strong affinity for mortals, particularly the damned.  It has always been to his detriment.  The First Woman tore him from our Father’s light and set a precedent which shook the firmament itself.  He became the first to fall, the father of sin, the ruination of man.  What could you possibly have been but more of the same?”

Michael’s eyes were impenitent as he continued, “The contract was not offered for your sake, but his.  I found in my heart of hearts that my soul shivered at the thought there was yet further for Lucifer to fall.”

Alastor didn’t fight his natural reaction this time as the edge of his smile lifted until he displayed gum, smile morphing into a sneer of disdain, “Well! So much for family reunions then.”

“Hold,” Michael said and held out a gloved hand, “...Hold.  I see the shape of your soul, Alastor DuBois.  It reeks of iron and madness.  It is a maelstrom of pride and a wrath so ravenous it howls at the door of your heart like wolves in winter.  Mistake me not, you are a monster, and yet…it would seem I have made a gross error in judgement.  It would seem you exist not to drag my brother down to yet unexplored pits of depravity, but to lift him.”

At last, the archangel said nothing, merely staring at Alastor as if they could peel back the layers of him with nothing more than their eyes and will.  The Overlord let out an annoyed hum and set his free hand flat on the table, his finger having long since slipped from Cameo’s lips.

“Listen to me carefully,” he said, letting Michael watch as his eyes tipped over into dials and his vision fell into pure frequency, “Lucifer is mine until Hell falls down around our ears.  I gave my consent to a king and I am worth nothing less than that.  Lucifer is that king and I shall remind him every day.  Moreover, I am his monster.  You locked an angel in a prison of darkness and rot and expected him to be the ruthless beast you needed to keep us in line.  I am his teeth and his claws when he can’t bear his own and I won’t be ashamed of that.”

“...So mote it be,” Michael said on an exhaled breath.  Then they raised their chin and said, “For what little I am sure it matters to you, I am pleased my brother chose the contract.”

A hand squeezed so tight around Alastor’s knee that he could feel the fingers tremble.  He didn’t need to look to know that Lucifer was not unaffected by his words, unused to being loved so fiercely in public.  Alastor would teach him to hold his head high…to expect his due loyalty without feeling he had to scrape for it.  He’d already begun to learn but sometimes it was like this.  Sometimes Alastor’s worship still took him out at the knees.

His voice a little thin, Lucifer took over the conversation, “Mikey, I really do want you to consider the annual meeting idea.  Take it home and mull it over.  Try and get some traction on it.  Can you promise me that at least?”

“The idea has merit.  I will present it before the host with my sponsorship.”

“Thank you.  I appreciate it.  I hope you know Alastor will be present for any future proceedings going forward.”

Michael blinked once, the faintest confusion registering in their baltic-blue eyes, “Why would he not be? He is your queen.  Quite vocally so, at that.”

“Just…make sure the others get that, yeah?” Lucifer said, his hand never moving.

“As you say, brother.”

“Good.  Now, I really hate to run, but I think I need to get the kids home.  Sorry this was a short one.  We’ll…we’ll hopefully have more time in a year,” the Devil said.

As Michael and Lucifer went through the final niceties of closing out their (admittedly) brief meeting, Alastor was already reeling off a list in his head of who he could trust to watch the twins for an hour or so once they returned home.  

Lucifer would need a touch more worshipping to ensure the lesson of the day stuck, after all.

Chapter Text

In the end, the actual ‘having a wedding’ part took a little longer than anticipated.

After the mess with Heaven had been settled for what Alastor certainly hoped was the final time, there had just been so much to take care of.  He’d had to finish healing from the birth of his twins, then had come facing the rest of the hotel residents once more, to say nothing of actually playing maman to two infants.  The Radio Demon had faced down avenging angels and gone toe-to-toe with some of the greatest powers in Hell, but he wasn’t sure he’d been entirely prepared for how taxing the actual caretaking of his children would be.

(It was very taxing.)

He had long forgotten what a full night of sleep felt like, often roused in the small hours by the sounds of hungry babies.  Lucifer always made a point of rising with him in solidarity even though there wasn’t much he could do when it came to breastfeeding.  He’d proposed the possibility of getting a pump so they could have bottles on hand and Alastor could get more rest, but the stag wouldn’t hear of it.  By way of a trade, his husband always handled diaper messes during the night to ensure the load was as even as it could be between them.

Their first month of parenthood passed by in a blink without either of them really noticing.

It was so easy to get caught up in the day to day of things…neo-natal check-ups with Belphegor, babyproofing an infernal hotel, rediscovering their places in the world now that they were four, et cetera et cetera amen.  Lucifer and Alastor would return to their quarters at night and fall almost immediately to sleep once the twins were settled, curled up together in the velvet arms of darkness.

It wasn’t that they’d put the wedding off, really.  It was simply one of those things that kept becoming an issue for ‘later’.

It was set aside for later while they were figuring out Pippin and Cameo’s schedules.

It was set aside for later while Alastor began to learn what would be expected of him as queen once they got the coronation business over with.

It was set aside for later once Alastor was clear to return to his duties in a diminished capacity, juggling his time as maman and hotelier.

It was set aside as they began to plan the coronation itself, realizing they’d need to present Alastor sooner rather than later lest the ruling class of Hell grow restless.

As a matter of fact, it likely would have been set aside a good deal longer if Lucifer’s fool heart hadn’t run away with him.

He’d had to take what was meant to be a short excursion to the palace to see what needed touching up before they dared to host a fete for Alastor’s official coronation.  The task had taken quite a great deal longer than he’d thought it would because, as it happened, spending almost an entire year only popping in and out of the office didn’t ensure the rest of the structure was kept up.  That was the bitch about not keeping staff.  The palace was a magical structure, sure, but it couldn’t respond to a will that wasn’t ever damn well there.

All of that meant, of course, that Lucifer was returning home much later than he preferred.  Dinner was well over, so he portaled directly to his quarters…and paused.

The room was dim, but not full dark, the parted curtains and faintly glowing lamp at their bedside casting the room in soft shadow.  The radio was tuned low, playing a slow big band piece Lucifer only vaguely recalled.  An early fall of acid rain pattered harmlessly against the closed window on the far wall.  The room was utterly still and quiet aside from that.  

Like a magnet, the Devil’s eyes were drawn to the bed where a familiar form was half-reclined beneath the blanket.

Alastor was stationed in his new place in what had come to be their marital bed, the duvet arranged across his lap.  He was already in his robe for the night, the neck slightly askew in a way that displayed the elegant wings of his collarbones.  Cameo was sprawled across his chest, fisting at his pelt and sleeping with his little face tucked in the crook of his maman’s neck.  Pippin was cuddled up in Alastor’s right arm, rolled so she was pressed up close to his sparse body heat.  Alastor himself wasn’t fully asleep, his ears still upright, but he was definitely drifting.  His eyes were closed, his face serene.

It was an arresting sight and Lucifer couldn’t help but stare.

With all the hustle and bustle of their lives, the Devil hadn’t taken a moment to just…look at him like this and what a fucking tragedy that was.

Alastor DuBois-Morningstar was stunning.

Lying there in their bed, relaxed and at peace with his children in his arms, he was utterly gorgeous.  Lucifer never failed to appreciate him, but with as busy as they’d been lately, they hadn’t taken time to stop and truly take each other in.  Coming home to this achingly domestic scene knocked all of the king’s priorities just one step to the left.  Why were they so busy?  What was so important that Lucifer couldn’t find time in his existence to just observe Alastor the way he had in the easy days before they’d fallen into bed together?

He supposed that work and planning the coronation were really eating up the hours, but…wasn’t that stupid? 

Didn’t they have an eternity to cross their t’s and dot their i’s? 

Why hadn’t Lucifer given this man a wedding yet? Why hadn’t he forced them to take a damn break so he could celebrate the fact that Alastor wore his ring?

Lucifer sighed and clicked his boots off, walking as quietly as possible over to the bed and sitting on the edge.  Alastor’s ears flicked and he hummed softly, rousing out of whatever fugue state he’d drifted into while spending time with his children.  His scarlet eyes slit open, glowing moon-bright in the dim.  Lucifer wasn’t strong enough to resist the urge to lean down and kiss him softly on the corner of the mouth.

“You’re home late,” Alastor whispered, the radio buzz to his voice dialed down to a low purr to avoid waking the twins.

“Sorry, habibi,” the king said and pressed their brows together, “Why aren’t Cam and Pip in the crib?”

“Cameo was out of sorts.  I think he could feel the storm coming and he was unhappy about it,” the Overlord explained into the close space between their lips.

“First one since they were born,” Lucifer affirmed, gently running a clawed hand over his daughter’s head, “Well, let’s keep them with us for a little while.”

Alastor made an agreeable little noise in his throat and his eyes fluttered closed once more, feeling safe with his husband so near to them.  Father in Heaven, Lucifer needed to celebrate this man.  Why had he let the wedding fall by the wayside? Alastor had worked through his entire pregnancy, survived horrors, been a dedicated mother and Lucifer hadn’t put celebrating their union at the top of his priorities? 

Madness.

Decision made, the Devil sat up only long enough to disrobe and claim his spot in their bed, slipping his hooves beneath the covers.  He sidled up to his husband and looped an arm around his waist so he could help cradle Pippi.  The night embraced them, wrapping the little family in their own peaceful world.  Alastor swayed easily into the hold, tipping his head to rest it against his husband’s broad shoulder.  Lucifer was helpless but to bestow a kiss behind one soft ear.

“Were you waiting up for me?” The king asked softly into the night, enjoying the feel of his husband’s rangy body pressed to his side.

“Certainly not,” Alastor huffed, just to be contrary.

Lucifer smiled into his Sinner’s hair, “Okay.  Hey, Al? I know you don’t like surprises so I want to put something in your head.  I think…I want to start planning the wedding again.  The one we talked about when the kids were born.”

Cameo let out a sigh against his mother’s chest and Alastor brought his free hand up to stroke the baby’s back in long passes.

“Goodness, Lucifer.  Planning a wedding on top of everything else? I was under the impression that your sin was Pride, not Gluttony, ti zanj,” Alastor replied with an eyebrow lofted.

“No,” the king shook his head, “Not on top of.  I want…I want us to put the coronation plans on hold so we can have a wedding.  A real one.  In front of our friends and family…a party where people won’t be watching your every move.”

There was a flare of red as Alastor’s eyes fluttered open once more, rolling up so the pupils focused right on Lucifer’s pale face.

“Habibi,” Lucifer said quietly, “The only time you took a break over the last ten, eleven months was when you were forcibly put on bed rest.  We haven’t gotten to dance since our date night at Rosie’s.  I’m not talking about putting the coronation off forever, by the way - just…pushing it down the list until we get to have some fun.”

A quiet broken only by the raspy breathing of the children stretched out between them.  On maman’s chest, Cam let out a squeaky yawn and nuzzled closer.

“...Very well,” Alastor said finally, gently raising Pippi so that her father could take her (he did so gladly), “We had meant to do it anyway. Rather silly to put it off so long.  What made you think of it, dear?”

Lucifer met his husband’s crimson gaze and smiled with all the affection in his heart, their daughter a warm weight in his arms, “Just…coming home to you with the kids.  It felt…Al, I never had a home life.  Not really.  Lilith was…I loved her so much, but she wasn’t like that.  I don’t hold it against her, but she always felt like she was on the precipice of something and I never could quite settle in because I was waiting for her to just…go forward.”

“Not to say you’re domesticated or anything, habibi.  You’re just…you ground me in ways Lilith didn’t.  When I walked in that door and saw you there holding the twins I felt rooted.  Like I was meant to be here.  I want to celebrate that,” the blonde king told his mate gently.

He didn’t expect the way Alastor’s ears folded out to the side, not angry but thoughtful, “...It frightens me sometimes, you know, how soft you make me.” 

The Devil couldn’t suppress a chuckle, “Alastor, you terrified one of the new residents so much last week that he wet himself while you were holding an infant.  You mocked an Archangel to their face last month.  You’re not soft.”

Alastor’s next silence was contemplative.

“...Sometimes, I feel as if I am growing needy when it comes to you.  Take tonight for example.  The children were fussing so I thought to just lie in bed and comfort them.  Then I found myself thinking it would be better if you were here.  I have never longed for someone like this before, my dear.  It unsettles me on occasion,” he said.

Lucifer dissected that, sensing the weight behind the words and not wanting to respond too quickly to something so important.  Alastor rarely revealed himself so plainly to anyone, not even to his husband.  He certainly didn’t like to need things, so openly admitting that he would have felt better with Lucifer near while their children were upset demanded something of him.  Despite being maman, the idea of being domesticated…of being some subservient housewife…rattled Alastor deeply, so saying he had been waiting for his husband to come home must have smarted.

Puffing out a breath, Lucifer drew the smaller man closer and decided to balance the scales, “...You did better than me.  If one of the kids was even sniffling and you weren’t around to help, I’d probably cry right along with them.  Besides…y’know that just because you want me around doesn’t mean you need me around.  You didn’t need me to save your afterlife, remember.  I was just kind of a lucky distraction with some magic paper.”

Lucifer placed a kiss on Al’s mouth, “Definitely don’t mind you wanting me around, though.”

Reminding Alastor of his power had been the right response.

Alastor kissed back tenderly, his bruised ego soothed for the time being as he crooned, “Needy.”

“For you? Always.”

“Mm.  Well, this shouldn’t upset things too much.  We hadn’t announced the coronation yet, so there isn’t a public-facing timeline to ruin if we set it aside for a week or two.  There’s no venue to book and catering can be done in-house for the wedding.  It should be relatively low-fuss all things considered…” Alastor said, his keen mind already putting together plans.

The hiss of acid rain outside picked up, underscored by the low howl of a mournful breeze.  It should have been sad but with Alastor and their children so near? It was like music.

“Let’s start working on it tomorrow, habibi.  First thing after breakfast, wedding is priority.  For now? Listen to the storm with me.”

The Devil’s heart fluttered when, rather than bitching or resisting, his husband just leaned into his chest with a nod.  

In the dark and the solitude, surrounded by the susurrus of acid rain against the windows and the low melody from their radio, Lucifer savoured the moment.  

~*~

It turned out that once they put their minds to it, arranging the wedding had been relatively quick.

There was no real need to source a Black Priest as they were already technically married and, really, there wasn’t anyone in all of Hell save perhaps Satan with the authority to preside over Lucifer’s nuptials.  It was one thing off the list.

There was no need to book a florist or a caterer thanks to the hotel’s gardens and Alastor’s general unwillingness to trust a stranger with food for the day.

Lucifer was seeing to his own wedding suit and Rosie had practically thrown a fit until she was permitted to source one for Alastor from the Cannibal Town tailor he so enjoyed.  Incidentally, the same tailor was under contract to produce Alastor’s new regalia for the coronation as well.  Two birds, one stone.

Charlie of course had been absolutely wiggling out of her skin with delight, eager to help them arrange what was turning out to be a belated wedding party more than a wedding itself.  

That had proved to be the biggest headache…reigning his step-daughter in to avoid turning the whole thing into a spectacle.

Yes, Alastor enjoyed a bit of spectacle, but Lucifer wanted something small.

It had taken some creative wrangling to keep Charlie’s feet rooted without bursting her bubble, but they seemed to have come to a compromise.

The day had rolled around at long last and Alastor was standing in front of the stove in the hotel kitchen, eyeing the latest batch of rolls he’d pulled out.  They were golden brown without a single flaw in place, steaming and fluffy.  Already cooling on the counters around him were an assortment of delights he’d been working on all morning, determined to provide a taste of his heritage for their guests.  He’d be double-dammed if some know-nothing caterer was permitted to embarrass him at his own wedding party.

At his back, Angel Dust let out a low whistle after setting a pot of gumbo down on the counter, “Damn, Red.  You gonna have energy to party after this?”

“Child’s play, good sir,” Alastor said flippantly, reaching down to tap little Cameo’s nose where the baby reclined in a sling at his chest.

His Tiniest Angel cooed and he flashed a toothy smile at his son.

At his back, Pippi was fast asleep between his shoulders, drooling gently into the fabric of his apron straps.

“Yeah, well, it’s about time for you to go upstairs if you wanna get dressed in time for the party, Smiles,” the tall spider said airily with a wave of his hand.

“Pfah,” Alastor scoffed, examining the stove top, “The fried catfish isn’t done yet.”

“An’ you ain’t gonna be done if you don’t get upstairs,” Angel snorted, sashaying over to examine what was left on the hob, “Besides, Italian remember? Ain’t like I can’t fry shit.  Go on upstairs so short king doesn’t get his feelin’s hurt if you’re late.”

“You, Angel, have grown too bold by half,” Alastor snipped as he took his hands away from the stove, refusing to openly acknowledge the wisdom there.

“Yeah, yeah, threats an’ bitchin’,” the porn star sing-songed gaily.

“Indeed,” Alastor sighed and went through the motions of removing his apron before departing the kitchen as bidden.

It really would be poor form to be tardy considering who would be in attendance.

While the party was remaining as small as possible, Alastor and Lucifer had both elected for certain dear friends to be invited outside of the Hotel’s general residents.  Alastor had, of course, extended his invitation to Rosie (who had accepted with no small measure of delight).  Lucifer on the other hand had invited two of his closest confidants…the Sins of Lust and Gluttony…Asmodeus and Beelzebub.

Alastor had been arch about it at first.

He was only inviting a single Overlord, but his darling husband was bringing in the Sins? And the Sin of Lust, no less!

Lucifer’s quick explanation had been the only thing to save him from a night alone in the twins’ room.  Not only were Asmodeus and Beelzebub the most friendly of the assembled Sins, but outside of Belphegor they were the ones Lucifer trusted most.  If they met Alastor at the wedding party and approved, they’d be guaranteed to stand in support during the much more tense coronation that would follow.

All Alastor had to do was make sure they approved, and that meant being on time.

Stroking a hand over Cameo’s curls, Alastor trotted upstairs to his old quarters where his new suit would be laid out and waiting for him.  True, he could have changed in his shared quarters with Lucifer, but it simply felt improper.  They might have done this entire relationship the wrong way around, but there were some traditions which one really ought to adhere to.  That included not seeing one another in your wedding clothes until the proper time.

Alastor’s door whisked open with a thought and then his loyal Shadow was there, chittering happily and holding its greedy claws out for the children.  The Radio Demon tutted at the little sliver of his soul and gently extricated Cam from his sling, holding him out to the Shadow who cooed and nuzzled the baby.  Cameo giggled, patting at the Shadow’s face while Alastor unstrapped Pippin’s carrier and gently slid her from it.  She blinked up at him owlishly, awakened by the jostling.

“Bonjou, prensès. Èske ou te fè bèl rèv?” Alastor hummed sweetly to his little girl, wiping at her lips with a thumb, “Tsk, messy.”

Pippi only gave him a satisfied little look that told her maman perfectly well how she felt about being waited on.  Hm.  Perhaps Lucifer was right and she did take after him, the smug little thing.  Good for her.  No daughter of Alastor’s would go through the world not knowing her worth.

She too was given over to the Shadow, who gleefully pressed ephemeral kisses to both of the twins’ chubby little cheeks before settling on the bed to play nursemaid.

His children taken care of, Alastor looked to where Shadow had hung his new suit up before taking the twins.  Alastor considered it, running his claws over the material.  What a fine thing it was…

The suit was a deep, deep maroon so saturated it was very nearly black, though it shone like a ruby when it was held to the light.  The coat was cut in a high-necked Levee style, the tails hemmed into classic swallowtail points.  Beneath it he had been provided pinstriped trousers and a fetching waistcoat that resembled corsetry more than any garment he’d worn before.  He didn’t disapprove.

Alastor smiled at the clear taste displayed by his old friend before slipping into the washroom to scrub the smell of the kitchen off of him.

He indulged in a short shower before applying cologne oil at the hinge of his jaw and the dip of his throat, stepping out of the bathroom and behind his dressing screen.  Alastor had only just gotten into the trousers when a soft knock sounded at the door.  

Ah.  Charlie.

Humming to himself, Alastor called out, “Come in, dear!”

Charlie’s silhouette appeared in the light cast from his open doorway, quickly vanishing as she closed the door behind her, “Hi, Alastor…I came to help you get dressed if you want…”

Alastor very nearly scoffed.  He didn’t need help with something as silly as putting his clothes on.  He’d been doing that himself for over a century now! But then…Charlie was so very like her father sometimes - couching her genuine wants inside of little Trojan requests.  The Radio Demon studied her tone while he held his tongue, searching out the nuances in her highs and lows.  She sounded…tentative, as if she feared she might be refused.

Well, that made more sense.  She wanted his time.

“Well, do me a kindness and hand me my shirt if you would, Charlie,” Alastor said instead, extending his hand up above the screen.

“Oh! Sure!” Charlie chirped, her whole demeanor immediately brightening when she wasn’t rebuffed.

A fine shirt found its way into Alastor’s hand and he shrugged it on as Charlie fidgeted just beyond his modesty screen, “So…are you ready?”

“I’m only half-dressed, dear.”

“Oh, right…right.”

“Hmmm…Charlie, I believe the more pertinent question is whether you’re ready.  The marriage has, to this point, been more academic than real for you.  Are you prepared for today?” Alastor asked with precision, buttoning the shirt up to his throat.

Silence extended on the other side of the screen, leaving Alastor in peace long enough to shrug into his sleek corset vest and begin hooking the busks.

“It’s…I won’t lie, Al.  There’s a part of me…a teeeeeeensy part…that’s afraid mom’s going to walk through the door the minute you two announce it.  And it’s not like I’m not happy for you! Really! I just…”

She sighed heavily.

“Charlotte.”

Alastor stepped out from behind the screen, summoning a few tendrils of darkness to take up the loose laces of his vest and tighten them, “Listen to me.  Whatever your father and I have done doesn’t reflect on you.  We’re married, but that’s not a decision you had any hand in.  Your relationship with your mother, such that it is, need not be affected by our decisions.”

“Oh no, I…that wasn’t…” Charlie groaned softly and finally Alastor could see her as she went to sit on the bed near where her baby siblings were being entertained by his Shadow.

“I’m not good at this.  What I wanted to say is I don’t want anything to mess up your day.  I know I wasn’t very good at treating you like family at first,” she toyed with something distinctly floral between her long fingers, “I guess that was a bad way of saying I’m worried something’s going to ruin it.”

“Well, as to your concerns about ruining our day…Charlie, not even a rampaging Overlord or furious archangels were enough to stop us.  I daresay we’ll survive a simple party,” Alastor said, letting out a soft hiss as his tentacles gave a final yank on his laces and tied them off, “As for the family issue…that’s water under the bridge.”

He turned a sharp smile on the blonde who was the spitting image of his new husband, “After all, you are my daughter now.”

Charlie let out a little snort, gathering Pippin into her lap while the Shadow purred and nipped at her hair, “Alastor, don’t tease me, okay? Just because you and dad are married doesn’t mean -.”

“Officially,” Alastor drove the point home, watching her carefully, “I signed the paperwork with Heaven some weeks ago after your father and I met with Michael.”

His step-daughter stared at him.

“You…you what?”

Alastor strolled over to the privacy screen to retrieve his coat, sliding it on, “Just as I said.  I have formally adopted you in the eyes of the Powers That Be.”

A little dip appeared between the woman’s brows and she looked so much like her father as she asked, “Why would you do that?”

“Simple.  Believe it or not, I care for your father.  We were informed that a consequence of the marriage contract that saved my life was the end of your claim to the throne to make way for the new bloodline.  I thought that very foolish indeed considering my children are far too young and you’ve already trained for ascension.  Besides, your father was beside himself.  Therefore? I adopted you.  As my eldest child, the throne is yours once again,” Alastor said idly.

He sniffed, “If you must, look at it as assured safety for your siblings.  With no formal claim to the throne, they won’t be political targets.”

Alastor didn’t expect the sudden embrace he found himself wrapped in.

He stiffened when he realized that Charlie was hugging him of all things and before he could hiss like an offended cat, she was murmuring, “Deal with it for a minute, okay?”

The Overlord peered down to see Charlie clinging to him, her head resting against his shoulder blade.  On the bed, his twins were cuddled up together under the watchful gaze of his Shadow self.  A wedding ring rested on his finger and downstairs was a party to celebrate his marriage to the King of Hell…his Lucifer.  It was all maudlin nonsense, really…as flimsy as a butterfly’s wing in the violence of Hell.  Alastor had never had a family that wasn’t ripped apart before.

However…

He’d never had the power he did now…the fangs, and teeth, and ferocity.

He could allow himself this and so he did indeed ‘deal with it’.  

Just for a minute.

~*~

“Luci, babe, calm down,” Asmodeus chuckled from where he and the King were fetched up at the bar downstairs waiting for his husband to arrive for the party.

The king sighed heavily and stopped fussing with his hat, placing it on the bartop where he couldn’t bend the brim, “Sorry, Oz.  Just nervous.”

“Babe, he already said yes.  Ain’t like he’s gonna leave you at the altar or anything.  Relax,” the towering Sin chuckled at his lifelong friend.

“Ah, I’m not worried about that.  Trust me, he’s had a million opportunities to walk out and he hasn’t taken any of them.  I just…he’s worked so hard putting the party together and things were a little rough for him for a while,” Lucifer explained, rolling his tumbler of whiskey between his fingers.

Bee lolled behind the bar, Husker having been banished some time ago to help Angel in the kitchen, “Ugh, party’s gonna kick so much ass if your caterer’s food is half as good as it smells.”

“Oh, uh, Al cooked the food mostly.  He’s a tiny bit of a control freak and I didn’t need him eating a member of the service industry in front of the kids.”

“A cannibal, babe? Doesn’t seem like your type,” Ozzie hummed, raising an eyebrow.

“Who fuckin’ cares if he can cook like that?” Bee objected brightly.

Lucifer rolled his eyes at both of them, distracted by the familiar banter of his two favourite Sins, “First off, Alastor is one-hundred percent my type.”

“And what type is that?” Oz smirked.

“Disobedient,” Lucifer responded with a smile like a jack-o-lantern, “And too intelligent for his own good.  But seriously, don’t worry. Al promised none of the meat today is sentient.  Or…y’know…was.”

“Good enough for me,” Bee said with an insouciant shrug.

Ozzie just chuckled and shook his head, “I’m sure that sounded better in your head than it did out loud.”

Lucifer was opening his mouth to bite back when he heard the tap of expertly cobbled oxford shoes on the landing and all thoughts flew out of his head.  His golden eyes widened at the sight that greeted him.  Standing there at the top of the stairs was a savage vision in scarlet, his husband fully turned out in the finest suit Lucifer had ever seen his sinful body wrapped in, his head crowned in black lilies.  Cradled in his arms was their little Cameo and at his side was Charlie with Pippin in her arms.

At his side, Ozzie leaned in to whistle low, “Damn.  You go for the dangerous ones, don’t you?”

“Oz, you have no idea,” Lucifer breathed and stood quickly from his stool, drifting to the foot of the stairs to wait for his family.

The fierce beast from the dawn of time who had sired Alastor’s twins reared its head and bared its teeth.  His.  Yes.  His.  The gorgeous Sinner was his.  All three beautiful children were his.  This family was his.

Judging by the wry smirk lighting up his husband’s beautifully sculpted face, he wasn’t doing a good job of hiding the possessive fire that had kindled in his belly.

“You’re drooling, ti zanj,” the Overlord purred, his ego clearly swelling at his husband’s response.

“Can you blame me, habibi?” Lucifer murmured, coming up the last few steps to meet his husband like the eager beast he became around the Radio Demon.

Obligingly, Alastor lifted his chin to receive a kiss and Lucifer’s heart sang at the feeling of soft lips against his own.  It was so hard to pull himself away, but it was easier to ignore his primal instincts when there were others to supersede them.  His mate was still there like a blinding beacon in his brain, but Lucifer tore himself away from that radiance to grace all three of his children with a little buff of lips on foreheads or cheeks.

“Hi, dad,” Charlie said as she received hers, not having to stoop for it any longer.

She hadn’t had to for months.

“Hey, duckling,” Lucifer said softly to his daughter, smoothing a hand over her cheekbone as he pulled back.

“Are you ready for the ceremony? We’re set up for vows in the garden,” his firstborn murmured, looking between himself and Alastor.

Lucifer turned his golden eyes to his mate and found the Radio Demon’s expression keen and expectant, not a trace of reticence anywhere so it was easy for the Devil to say, “Yeah.  I think we are.”

“Shall we then?” Alastor crooned and what could Lucifer do but kiss him again before taking a single step towards their little outdoor haven

~*~

The Hazbin Hotel’s gardens had been pruned back and lovingly tended in preparation for the simple ceremony being held there.  The lawn had been trimmed, the roses fought into submission, and they’d even managed to get water running to the central fountain once again.  Lucifer had taken care to reinforce the wards so they’d have absolute privacy and clear weather for the party.  All of the food Alastor and Angel had painstakingly put together over the last few days had been arranged on long tables under awnings a little ways away, kept warm (or cold as necessary) with a touch of sorcery.

A blossoming arch had been erected in front of the central fountain, constructed of sculpted bushes full of thick blooms that all sported a glistening, unblinking eye at the center.  Their petals were velvet-plush and the deepest purple, their stems festooned with thorns.

Lovely in Alastor’s opinion.

He walked out under the softened glare of Hell’s red sun into the garden with his son in his arms and found his thoughts wandering to his mother.  Surely she would disapprove of the location (and his spouse most likely), but the venue itself? How many community weddings had Alastor attended in back yards like this as a young man, surrounded by close acquaintances with handmade food? He’d told Lucifer once that this was the sort of wedding he might have had on Earth had he been a normal man.  Had things been better, his maman might have even been the one to arrange it.

What would she think of him? Yes, he had crashed into Hell like a meteor, but he had two beautiful children (three if one counted Charlie), a fine and handsome husband who treated him well, standing in society, and a stable home.  Excluding the gender of his spouse, weren’t those all things his maman had wanted for him when they’d both still been alive? Goodness, it was too bad she’d never meet the twins…

Lucifer pulled him from his woolgathering with a gentle hand on the cheek, “Are you with me, habibi?”

“Mm, yes.  Just thinking.”

“Too late for cold feet, Your Majesty,” Lucifer teased under his breath, smiling like the imp he was.

He really was quite handsome when he was like this.

Alastor’s ears flickered on top of his head as a familiar feeling tugged at his lower gut.  How interesting.  He hadn’t felt that since the twins had been born.  Hm.

Slyly, he slipped a little closer to his husband and lowered his voice so he couldn’t be heard over the general hubbub of the hotel residents, guests, and Sins assembling, “...You needn’t worry about that, ti zanj.  As a matter of fact…I think we should perhaps ask Charlie to babysit tonight.”

The king’s golden eyes were confused for only a bare moment before the penny dropped and he cleared his throat in a manner Alastor was quite sure he thought was suave, “...I have been thinking the kids should take time to bond…”

“Have you now?” Alastor purred, feeling heat suffusing his face though he took care not to show it.

Lucifer shot him a look full of sultry promise and Alastor was only glad his finely cut coat covered the wag of his tail.  

But then Charlie was bustling up to them with Pippin in her arm, holding the other out for Cameo with a huge smile on her face, “Alright! Everyone’s here! Whenever you’re ready to start, the floor is yours!”

It was difficult to put Cameo in his sister’s arms, but Alastor kept his face calm as he did so, watching like a hawk while the princess adjusted him with great care.  Neither twin seemed to even notice, happy to coo and snuggle up to their half-sister.  Perhaps there was some aspect of the divine to her that they recognized and felt safe with.  For the best, really, even though Alastor’s arms felt empty without either child near him.

But then Lucifer was reaching for his hand and tapping their rings together, turning so they could look out over the assembly.

Charlie stood near to them but out of the limelight, tending to the babies with Vaggie at her side as ever.  Much to Alastor’s mingled sadistic delight and dismay, Vaggie seemed almost as unnerved by the presence of infants as Michael had been, though it was somewhat tempered by her years in Hell.  Rosie was in attendance and turned out in her Sunday best, grinning wide enough that Angel Dust edged closer to Husk.  The old cat himself had Niffty up on his shoulders with a world-weary expression on his shockingly sober face, and the Sins were positioned towards the back of the throng.

The rest of the hotel residents would be invited to the party, but this moment was just for those who understood the weight of it.

Lucifer puffed out a breath and his chest swelled with pride as he began speaking, “So…I think everyone here already knows this isn’t going to be a normal wedding.”

“Being as the ‘wedding’ part was a rather rushed affair involving rampaging Overlords, a very cross Archangel, and paperwork we were rather too busy to read,” Alastor added dryly simply because it was his wedding day and he could be a shit if he wanted, thank you very much.

His husband just rolled his eyes, smile undiminished, “That part.”

“Plus, you two kinda skipped some bits,” Angel called and waggled his eyebrows before Husk could shush him appropriately.

The old gambler hissed something at him and Angel, true to form, muttered theatrically loud, “What? It was three days! They broke a bed! We all heard it.”

The spider was lucky he’d been invaluable for the last few days of cooking.

“Aaaaanyway,” Lucifer groaned, getting the speech back on track, “The point is that the marriage is important to me…to us.  We needed to mark it somehow.  There’s no real need to go through all the motions, but there are a few things that deserve a special moment.  For starters, I’d like you all to be the first to formally meet the new Queen of Hell, Alastor DuBois-Morningstar…my husband, my right hand, and the newest ruling power of Hell.  A year seems kind of quick, but you all know me…I have a thing about falling hard.”

Charlie let out a strangled sound somewhere between a yelp and a giggle, as if she wasn’t sure she was allowed to laugh at that.  Bee let out a wild guffaw and Ozzie laughed right along with her, though he did pair it with a groan.  The rest of the assembly was quiet, clearly unsure about the protocol when it came to entertaining their king’s morbid jokes.  Alastor thought it quite charming and draaaaagged his claw-tips over the back of Lucifer’s hand.

“And!” He sing-songed along, “Not only have I formally adopted Charlie as my daughter, but Lucifer and I have no intention of relocating from the hotel for the foreseeable future, so do make sure to mind your manners!”

Alastor simply couldn’t help insinuating a bit of playful menace into his tone.  Just a tad.

Lucifer squeezed his hand, “Thank you, Al.  Father, you’re a nightmare.  The second thing we wanted to do is something we didn’t really get to when the marriage was finalized, and that’s vows.  There are a lot of things I want to promise Alastor…things that are for us, but I want the people who matter to hear.  Consider them a declaration, I guess.”

“Alastor,” the Devil said and turned all of his focus onto his queen.  The Overlord felt electricity lancing down his spine as his husband’s voice swelled with pure, unadulterated presence, “I promise to work every day to be the king you deserve.  You’ve said that you don’t tolerate less than the best, and I’m going to be that for you and our family.  Our whole family.  I promise to be a dedicated husband to you and a better father to the kids than I…than I think I have been in the past.  I can’t promise your afterlife won’t be difficult, but I am promising right here that I’ll always take your side no matter what.  You’re mine until you don’t want to be anymore.”

Well.

That was quite a grand thing, wasn’t it?

Alastor could feel that he was staring in silence for far too long as he absorbed the enormity of the vows the First Fallen had bestowed upon him.  It permeated down to the mortal marrow of his soul’s origin as a thing almost too great to countenance.  It resonated through him until his very being was an echo chamber of devotion.  

Oh, he was going to spoil this man tonight.

But his silence was stretching far past the expectations of propriety, so Alastor licked his lips and cleared his throat jauntily, “Sad to say my vows are going to be somewhat less…hmmm…romantic, I suppose? But do bear with me, as they are important nonetheless.  Lucifer, I swear to raise our children with dignity so that they never question their place in Hell.  I promise to be your personal monster…to bare my fangs when you can’t find it in you to do so.  I promise to fill all of Hell with a newfound fear of the Morningstar line so you need never raise your hand against them again if you so choose.  Let me haunt them with nightmares so you have room to dream once more.”

It was perhaps a more vicious vow than Lucifer’s but it was the greatest kindness a man like Alastor could offer.  Lucifer had more than risen to the task of being king once more, but he was an angel still and there was only so much he could do.  Let Alastor bloody his hands so the Beast of Eden could rest.

There was an uncomfortable shifting in the small crowd, but they all faded into background noise as Lucifer’s inhuman eyes locked with his, shining with emotion.

He understood exactly what it was Alastor had promised him.

“Oh, go on an’ kiss him, Your Majesty!” Rosie called unashamedly from the crowd.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Lucifer purred deep in his chest and pulled Alastor that much closer with the arm around his waist.  

Alastor didn’t bother to remind him that they were both ‘Your Majesty’ now considering they were both about to get something they very much wanted.  Instead, he tipped his head back and to the side, following his husband’s cue as he accepted a kiss in front of the assembly.  It wasn’t much of a ceremony, really, but the ceremony wasn’t the point.  This was.  Letting everyone who mattered know beyond a shadow of a doubt that there was a new power couple in Hell and what they had was unquestionably real.  

The ripples would spread with time, but let it begin here.

~*~

The party had picked up soon after that, the rest of the residents invited out and the wedding shindig in full swing.  One of Alastor’s radios had been positioned on a side table by his herb garden and it was currently set to a programme of jazz hits from his era.  Lucifer was off to the side chatting with Charlie while they took turns entertaining the twins and Alastor was taking a moment to retrieve a drink from where Husker was mixing over by the food.  The Radio Demon was still nursing, so he wasn’t permitting himself much by way of excess, but one was still in the realm of safety.

He already found an old fashioned waiting for him at his thrall’s elbow by the time he arrived, the man’s yellow eyes keen.  Husk jerked his chin to the glass and gave it a nudge towards Alastor, who caught it with ease born of familiarity.

“Ah, Husker.  A lifesaver, truly,” Alastor trilled and lifted the drink in a salute.

“We’re dead, boss.”

“Mm, true enough,” the Overlord shrugged and took a sip, shivering in delight at the biting burn of the well-mixed drink.

“...Congrats, by the way.”

Alastor’s ears twitched and he tilted his head, “Oh? For what in particular, my good man?”

Husk had been acting so strangely lately that it had piqued Alastor’s curiosity.  First there was the concern for his virtue when this whole thing had started, then his rage over Vox’s attack, and now this…this almost congenial behaviour.

“For makin’ it this far, I guess,” Husk said with a twist of his wrist that implied the congratulations extended to all of ‘this’, “Try an’ do some good with it for once, wouldja?”

Bold.

Alastor raised an eyebrow but Husk just chuckled, “Figure I’m only gonna get to sass the Queen once, so I better make it count, y’know? But…I’m serious.  You got somethin’ bigger to take care of now than your own damn self.  Not just your kids, but all of us.  Try an’ cut down on the crazy bullshit for all our sakes, alright?”

Alastor drummed his claws against his tumbler, sorely tempted to be offended save for one thing: Husk was, abhorrently, correct.  The Overlord’s days were still endless, but he wasn’t exactly ‘number one’ anymore, was he? His goals needed to be bigger than just power and chaos and entertainment.  He had children to consider now…an entire kingdom to bring to heel after entire centuries of negligence.  He had a husband he had just sworn to uphold and defend.  Goodness, and that was to say nothing of his Overlord duties…

He turned a sharp, considering gaze onto Husk before taking another long drink, “...One day very soon, old cat, you and I will need to have a chat about the future.”

Husk’s ears flattened slightly, but he nodded grimly all the same, “...Guess we will, boss.”

Braying a dramatic little laugh, Alastor pressed his free hand to his chest, “Oh Husker! Don’t look so glum! It’s a party, my dear.”

He didn’t entirely let his thrall off the hook.  It was so fun to watch the chimera squirm even when he wasn’t actually in any trouble.

A deep, rich voice at his elbow drew the Overlord’s attention away, “Hell of a speech back there, Your Majesty.”

Standing just behind his left shoulder at a respectful distance was the towering, avian Sin who had been with Lucifer downstairs.  Alastor was tempted to assume that this was Gluttony since he certainly didn’t radiate the sort of filth Angel Dust got up to.  However, Alastor could see the way the other Sin was wolfing down inhuman amounts of food over at the refreshments tables and quickly amended his assessment.  This was Asmodeus, certainly, though he wasn’t anything the Overlord was expecting.

The man had his arms folded across his broad chest and his face was surprisingly neutral, neither approving nor disdainful…assessing.

Ah.  Alastor suspected a certain shovel talk might be in his future.  Best to get it over with then.

“Ahhh, Asmodeus, I presume,” Alastor hummed with a genteel air, sketching a short bow, “I take it you found our vows entertaining?”

“Somethin’ like that,” the towering Sin said, his voice animated in the manner of a true showman, lilting without affectation.

“Come, walk with me,” the Radio Demon hummed, stepping away from the drinks table and out onto the lawn where a few of his moppets were busily setting up an open-air tent for dancing under once everyone had had their fill of food.  Once they were away from listening ears, Alastor cut a watchful stare up to the other man, “Something tells me you have words for me.”

“You used to people wanting to have words with you?”

“Usually people want far more than that,” Alastor sighed ruefully, his thoughts drifting to the scar that spanned the entirety of his shoulder blade, “I do believe I can handle a bit of stern talk.”

“Believe it or not,” Asmodeus drawled as they walked, the eyes of one of his secondary heads watching Alastor carefully while the primary set gazed out over the garden, “I’m not here to ruin your party.  I wanted to ask if you meant what you said during your vows.”

“I am a dealmaker, Lord Asmodeus, and words have power,” the stag said by way of confirmation, folding his hands neatly behind his back.

The big Sin blew his lips and rubbed at the back of his neck, “Look, between you, me, and the fencepost? We’ve already done this whole Dark and Terrible Queen schtick before.  We’ve been doin’ it since the start of Hell and it didn’t end well for Luci.”

Alastor’s lip curled in disdain, “If you are insinuating I am at all similar to Lilith, you are mistaken.  Lilith Morningstar was ashamed of everything Lucifer is and was.  She turned perhaps one of the finest beings in Creation into a timid little songbird and left him behind to starve in the cage she wrought for him.  But I? I would have consented to no less than the finest and I am starkly uninterested in watching a true king flounder and fail.  Lucifer Morningstar will thrive if I have to drag all of Hell kicking and screaming to make it happen.”

Asmodeus let out a low whistle, “Man, Luci always did have a thing for crazy.  At least you seem to be crazy in his favour, so…”

“Why, thank you!” Alastor chirped.

The neutral expression on Ozzie’s face finally cracked and he let out a snorting laugh, “Damn, alright then.  You’re fifty shades of batshit, but you’ve got my backing as long as you’re fighting Luci’s corner.  Pretty sure you’ve got Bee’s support from the food alone.”

Well, that was one problem handled.  Walking into his coronation with the support of at least three Sins (he absolutely counted Belphegor among their allies) was a strong start.

“Listen, as far as backing goes…keep your eyes peeled when you walk into that throne room the first time, okay? You’re pretty much untouchable at this point, but that doesn’t mean folks won’t try.  Lilith was the power behind the throne for millennia and some assholes down here never forgot that.  Don’t be afraid to flex a little if someone pushes their luck, got it?”

“Mmm, understood,” Alastor drawled, very pleased that he seemed to have passed muster since it seemed this Asmodeus was interested in his success and willing to feed him information, “Any dissenting voices I should be aware of?”

“Mammon’s gonna be up your ass, but don’t trust that obsequious shit as far as you can throw him…and trust me, that ain’t far.  Dunno what Levi’s gonna do about all this, but Satan’s probably gonna raise a stink.  Guy’s all ego.  Doubt he’ll do more than annoy you, though,” Ozzie murmured, “The real ones you gotta watch are the Goetia…less powerful than a Sin but ten times as arrogant.  Paimon’s an ass, but Andrealphus is the one to watch.  If Stols was still around, he’d have your back no sweat but,” the Sin shrugged and shook his head, “Anyway, just some housekeeping to be aware of.”

“Much appreciated,” the Overlord replied brightly, ticking all of the information into neat little boxes in his head.

Asmodeus nodded and then, as if a switch had been flipped, his posture relaxed and his faces split into far more gentle smiles, “...The kids are real cute, by the way.  It’s nice to see Luci being a happy daddy again.”

Alastor shifted his attention back to where his husband was fawning over their little ones, both children looking curious, but calm about all of the hubbub surrounding them, “...Yes.  He is, against all early expectations, an exemplary father.”

Then Asmodeus was looking down at him with something very knowing in his eyes, “I’m gonna be real with you, Alastor.  When Luci first told us he got himself married again and I heard it was an Overlord? I was damn sure that fool man got himself wrapped up in something bad.  He’s been lonely for a long time and, no offense, you lot are damn good at saying the right thing to get what you want.”

“Figured me for a social climber, did you?” Alastor said, endeavouring not to be annoyed since he knew there was going to be quite a bit of this in his future.

“I mean, yeah? Kinda did.  But damn, looks like I had my wires crossed.  You’re actually in his corner.  I can smell it.”

Curious and always eager to push the envelope for more information, Alastor cocked his head and flicked his ears, “And how, pray, do you know I’m not simply a particularly good actor?”

“Baby, I’m lust.  I can feel all the flavours of it up against my skin…lust for power, for sex, for affection.  They’ve all got a texture.  When you look at him? Oof, I feel it like a full body massage.  You’ve got that all-consuming kinda lust, baby, and it’s all Lucifer,” Asmodeus said and he sounded rather pleased about the whole thing.

Alastor took a minute to digest that.  He supposed that would explain why Asmodeus didn’t present himself like some sort of tuppenny harlot, if he represented all the varying states of the sin of lust.  How very unimaginative Valentino seemed in comparison when faced with the very avatar of unadulterated lust itself.  Alastor wasn’t sure he liked feeling so seen, but it was working in his favour, so he was content to let the matter drop.

He sighed, decided that keeping Ozzie on their side was the greater victory, and said, “When he remembers who he is, he is rather intoxicating.  I’ll grant you that.”

Lucifer met his eyes from across the lawn and his whole face lit up like the dawn.  The king turned to say something to Charlie and gently handed Pippin back to her before striding towards Alastor like a devotee following a star.  The Overlord’s heartbeat picked up without his permission, knowing that all he had to do was exist in his husband’s line of sight to lure him in.  This was the most powerful man in all of Hell and he craved Alastor.

The fallen angel was all smiles as he greeted the two, “Hey Ozzie, you mind if I steal Al for a little while? We haven’t danced in months and I’d like to fix that.”

“You two go on.  I need to go check in with little Charlie anyway.  Girl’s gotten so big,” Asmodeus excused himself and winked at Alastor as he peeled off, leaving the couple to themselves.

Once Ozzie had vanished into the small crowd, Lucifer’s arm reclaimed its place of honour around Alastor’s waist and the Overlord found himself appreciating that his husband hadn’t made a spectacle of it in front of his friend.

The king said, “I feel like it’s time for a first dance, habibi.  Really show these kids what it's all about.”

“Mmmm, I’m certainly not opposed.”

Lucifer began leading them the short distance to the tent while Alastor rifled through his mental music selection, seeking out the perfect piece while the radio jumped and twittered, “What did you and Oz talk about?”

“He was ensuring I had your best interests at heart,” Alastor reported honestly, allowing Lucifer to sweep him into a turn just for the hell of it and preening when he noticed eyes beginning to turn to them.

“Shit, sorry, habibi.  He’s…overprotective.”

“No need to apologize, dear.  I appreciate that you have actual friends making sure I’m not simply some gold-digging whore out for your kingdom.”

Lucifer laughed at that and drew his husband close, “Sweetheart, with what a fight it was to convince you I wasn’t going to kick you out of our bed at least once a week…”

“Yes! Well!” Alastor cut him off as he finally settled on a song in a waltz tempo, “I assured him that my interests lie in making sure you’re the king you were meant to be.  Nothing more and certainly nothing less.”

His husband chuckled and shot him a besotted grin that still did ridiculous things to Alastor’s already fluttering stomach, “I promise, you’ll never get anything less than that, Alastor.  You’re only mine as long as you want to be, so I need to stay on my toes to make sure you keep on wanting.”

They fell into position as easy as breathing, performing for the growing audience while simultaneously forgetting them entirely as their bodies moved in tandem.  Oh, it really had been too long since they’d danced, and this time was even better without a mid-stage pregnancy weighing Alastor down.  They glided over the grass beneath the canopy, easily picking up each and every cue their partner gave them and oh, this was lovely.  

“You do so enjoy it when I’m wanting, sire,” Alastor leaned in to whisper, mind slowly setting itself on a course.

He wanted Lucifer wound up.  He wanted his husband to rile up bit by bit by bit over the rest of the afternoon.  He wanted the King of Hell hungry when they went to bed that night so that perhaps he could be reminded what it was like to be in the insatiable claws of the First Fallen.  It had been so long since he’d played with fire.

Something kindled in Lucifer’s eyes that told him it was working, his husband’s voice a throaty rumble just loud enough for them, “You’re right. I enjoy it when you kneel for your king.”

“Perhaps I will, ti zanj…if you earn it.”

Lucifer pulled him close before effortlessly tipping the Radio Demon into a dip that showed off the arch of his lean spine like sin itself given flesh, “I haven’t reminded you that you’re mine in awhile, habibi.  I’m looking forward to it.”

There was poetry in bringing their little out-of-order tete-a-tete full circle nearly a year later.  However…

“As much as I relish seeing you in your element, let’s not make it a full repeat performance, shall we? Pregnancy was rather fraught,” Alastor purred.

Here Lucifer actually looked rueful, pulling his head back from Alastor’s ear long enough to trace ashen knuckles down his husband’s cheek, “We…we don’t need to worry about that, Al.”

“Oh?”

“Sweetheart…what we did that first time was singular.  That was big magic.  You gave your first time to the Devil willingly and that’s not something we can ever replicate no matter how hard we try.  Pip and Cam aren’t just irreplaceable because they’re Pip and Cam, it’s because that kind of arcane rite is sort of one-time-only,” the blonde Devil said so, so softly.

They continued to dance, looking for all the world like they were whispering sweet nothings to one another as Alastor felt something rather odd low in his belly.  Was it regret? Did it sadden him to know he’d never quicken with Lucifer’s seed ever again? Was he relieved that he wouldn’t be burdened with the rigors of pregnancy again, blessed with his twins who were quite literally dark miracles? He would have to unpick that later, but his first task was wiping that ruefulness from Lucifer’s face.

“Well,” he said jauntily, grin sharpening, “No precautions needed tonight, then.”

Lucifer’s smile brightened again and he swept Alastor into a wide, graceful spin that had a few watchers sighing in twitterpation, “Well, just one.  Your word.  You still have it.”

“Still?” Alastor asked curiously.

“Alastor, you’ll always have your word.  You can tell me to go kick rocks whenever you want and marriage doesn’t change that.  I love it when you kneel for me, but only when you want to.  Remember what we talked about after our first time? Consent is powerful,” the king told him with a fond kiss on the brow.

How very novel, Alastor thought to himself, keeping up with his husband step for step as they shared what was colloquially called the ‘first dance’ (though their real first dance was far in the past).  When he had been alive, marriage had involved a certain trade-off in power.  While he hadn’t anticipated that Lucifer would enslave him or even treat him poorly, the Radio Demon had supposed that certainly some things would be changing aside from their official status.  But it didn’t seem like Lucifer intended to change anything at all.

It was oddly comforting.

“Being the king you deserve means not trapping you,” Lucifer finished.

Why did that only fan the growing heat in Alastor’s loins?  This man.

Alastor purred and draped his arms over Lucifer’s broad shoulders, making sure to scrape the back of his neck with claws, “How about…we worry about all of that tonight? For now, let’s show these fools what dancing looks like.”

Lucifer’s delighted laughter felt a lot like winning.

~*~

The rest of the wedding was surprisingly entertaining.

Once Alastor and Lucifer cracked the seal with their first dance, the impromptu pavilion filled up with other couples (and a very hyperactive Niffty who was just content to do…whatever it was Nifftys did).  Alastor kept firm control over the music, Husk kept the liquor flowing at an acceptable pace, the food was appreciated, and everyone seemed to be having a grand old time.  There had been cake at dusk once the worst of Hell’s heat died away and wouldn’t melt the damned thing the second they got it outside.

As the night had pressed in around them, Queen Beelzebub had eventually departed back to her own Ring to see to a prior engagement.  Lucifer had slyly informed his new husband that it was very likely another party, but he hadn’t seemed pressed over it.

Asmodeus had eventually cited a need to return to Lust as well, though he had taken some time to sit and chat with Lucifer.  The two looked like very old friends indeed, so Alastor took the time for a good chinwag with Rosie while she cooed over the babies.

Once the party had wound down to sedate conversation with a few dancers still swaying under the canopy, Alastor had slipped back upstairs with the twins to nurse in private.  His little heirs had been so very well behaved today and this would be their first night away from maman since they were born.  The Radio Demon needed time to be sequestered with them as much as they did before taking such a big step.  So, he reclined back on the bed he shared with Lucifer in their room, divested of his form-fitting corsetry and shirt open, a child in each arm as they had their dinner.

Pippin, as usual, was a voracious eater, clutching at her mother and grumbling as if she anticipated having her meal taken away from her.  So new to Hell and already a little fighter.  Alastor’s chest swelled with pride and he leaned to kiss her fluffy blonde head.

Then there was Cameo, who tended to nurse in fits and snatches as if he was afraid of hurting his maman, his tiny hands wrapped in soft fur.  Poor, sweet boy who had refused to even cry at his own birth.  Every neonatal check-up confirmed he was in perfect health, but still Alastor worried about his little lamb who already had so much of his father in him.

Alastor wasn’t naturally a man given to affection or acts of care.  His romance with Lucifer was proof enough of that, as was his catastrophically failed whatever-it-had-been with Vox.  He was the kind of man to cut his losses the very instant he sensed his welcome was officially worn out, more interested in protecting himself than cleaning up the aftermath.  He’d always been that way, enough that Rosie had sniffed him out halfway through his pregnancy when he was already looking for the end of his relationship with the king before it could surprise him (it had never even been a thought in Lucifer’s head, but that was beside the point).

The point was that Alastor was not a nurturing or a kind man, and yet these little souls in his arms - these painfully small creatures that he had fought, killed, and almost died for…

He let out a breath and rested his nose just behind Cam’s ear, trying to stifle the sudden, century-long buried wish to see his own mother.

How silly.

Alastor didn’t look up when the door creaked open, recognizing that only Lucifer would enter without knocking.  The door clicked shut behind him for privacy.

“Habibi…the wedding night can wait if you want to stay with the kids.”

Foolish, perfect man.  Of course he would give up perfectly willing sex at the drop of a hat just because Alastor willed it.

“No,” he breathed out in response, feeling how it ruffled the little curls at Cameo’s nape, “I just wanted a moment, dear.  We’ll send them off with Charlie and Vaggie once they’ve eaten.  Hopefully they’ve had enough excitement that they won’t give the girls too much of a fuss.”

“Okay.  No rush,” Lucifer said softly and Alastor could hear his boots walking over to the wardrobe and the soft shuffle of clothing as the more ostentatious outer layers came off.

“The party?” Alastor asked.

“It’ll likely keep going for a few hours, but I’m happy to let it.  Father knows there’s enough food and Husk’s been smart with dispensing drinks.  Everyone has a good buzz, but I don’t think we’ll find anyone naked in the fountain come morning,” his husband reported.

Alastor nodded for the sake of it and sighed softly as Cameo unlatched, snuggling into his chest.  It took a bit of awkward maneuvering, but he lifted one hand to wipe milk-dewed lips before settling back in to let Pippin finish.

Lucifer turned to him and Alastor finally caught his eye, seeing heat and a mad sort of devotion written there.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” Lucifer said softly.

“Don’t swear in front of the children, dear.”

“I mean it.  How do you drive me crazy just existing like this?” The king pressed, coming to sit on the edge of the bed, stroking his daughter’s back through her absolutely ridiculous onesie.

“It’s dreadfully hard to be driven to a destination one has already reached,” Alastor countered easily, slightly taken aback by the naked awe in his husband’s golden eyes.

“Hush and listen to your king,” the First Fallen said, his presence manifesting to glorious effect through voice alone.  

Alastor’s ears immediately fell to the sides in deference, little better than Pavlov’s blasted dog when it came to that damned tone.  Little Cameo’s ears wiggled as if he too recognized the power in the room, and Pippin blinked owlishly, sensing her father As He Should Be.  The Radio Demon fell silent and Lucifer reached out with one hand to cup his cheek.

“No deflection.  No fussing.  You, Alastor, are my perfect, ruthless, beautiful monster.  Look at you right now.  Unlaced.  Undone.  Ours,” Lucifer purred.

Without properly realizing what he was doing, Alastor tilted his head to rest in Lucifer’s palm.

“There you are,” the fallen hummed and brushed the pad of his porcelain-smooth thumb over the apple of his husband’s cheek, “I love it when you bristle and fight.  I do.  But let me love you tonight, okay? In all the ways you deserve, not just the bitey ones, you menace.”

Alastor nodded, his brain already doing that peculiar thing it did when Lucifer flexed his power, tucking all the harsh angles away and just…letting go of the wheel.

At his chest, Pippin finished her dinner and unlatched with a great, jaw-cracking yawn.  She stretched so big that Alastor could feel her little muscles trembling with the effort and then promptly snuggled back down into the crook of his arm like a contented cat.  His little princess.

Lucifer smiled down at her and cleaned her up with the edge of his shirt tails, “Looks like somebody’s ready to go to Charlie.  How do you feel about it, Al?”

Taking a moment to savor the weight of his children in his arms, Alastor said, “It’s best if they do.”

“Alright, I’ll take them down and then portal their crib over.  While I’m gone, let’s get that head settled, okay?”

“Commands, my king?” Alastor drawled.

Carefully picking up both Pip and Cam, Lucifer smiled warmly, “If it’s still what you want.”

“It is.”

“Okay, then take some time and get out of your clothes.  Fold them neatly and set them aside.  Once you’re ready, put a pillow down and kneel until I get back.  Nothing more than that.  Just breathe and let yourself settle.”

Lucifer gave his instructions neatly and without any unnecessary dithering.  Alastor had granted his consent for the evening and the king didn’t bother with questioning his decision.  He was neatly setting the scene, drawing a clear division between the world Out There and the privacy of In Here, a place just for them.  Whatever happened in here was isolated from the reality of the Hell that waited just outside their chamber doors…safe.

Alastor was safe to just be for a few hours.

“Very well,” the Radio Demon said, but sat up to give his twins a parting kiss on the brow.  

He forced himself not to watch as Lucifer went to take the twins to their sister for the evening (though he did send his Shadow slithering behind them just in case), instead rising and going through the ritual of disrobing.  Alastor finished the task of sliding out of his corsetry, then undid each button on his shirt one by one with a ceremonial reverence.  

It was a masterful little move Lucifer had made, Alastor acknowledged as he padded over to the bed to select a pillow, giving him time to sink into a comfortable headspace unobserved.  There was no shame in making this choice because it was his.  Lucifer wasn’t hovering over him and waiting eagerly for him to capitulate, but instead backing off so it could be done on his terms.  Alastor had time to consider which pillow he wanted to use as he placed it on the floor next to their bed.  He had time to get comfortable in his own skin as he slowly knelt down and shuffled until he was content.  He had time to close his eyes and breathe, tilting his head and switching on their radio to a slow, big band instrumental.

He had time to shed the Overlord and become Alastor DuBois-Morningstar.

By the time Lucifer returned to the room, the queen was fully settled and breathing slowly, ears relaxed and tail still.

The door opened without a word and shut just as quickly to keep their world from prying eyes.  A prickle of magic flowed over Alastor’s skin and he calmed further when he realized Lucifer had set up a ward to give them privacy.  There was a brief pause as Lucifer stopped to take in the scene before his boots tapped over to the side table.  Alastor heard the clink of his cufflinks hitting the neat little dish they kept there for such sundries and then a hand was cupping his jaw, tilting his face up firmly but gently.

“You did so well,” the king praised, rubbing the line of his jaw with a thumb, “Pip and Cam are safe with their sister.  You’re safe with me.  You can relax, habibi.”

Alastor didn’t respond with words, just nodding faintly and letting the weight of his chin rest in his husband’s strong hand.

“So good for me.  So, my Queen of Everything, how much like our first time do you want tonight to be? Tell me.”

“...I would prefer not to break our bed…and you know the children will likely need us by dawn, so three days is out of the question,” Alastor husked up at the Devil, “But I want to remember why I gave myself to you the first time.  Show me the King of Hell.”

“As His Majesty wishes,” Lucifer rumbled deep and low, his voice just beginning to split and multiply in a cascading chorus, “On your back on the bed.  Hands above your head.”

Alastor rose from his pillow with all the grace that had been lost to him during his pregnancy and made his way over to the bed.  For a moment he debated whether he wanted the covers turned down or not, but decided against it since he’d been laid out on top of them the first time he’d gone to bed with the Devil.  Not to mention, he was conscious of dallying over Lucifer’s orders and so laid himself down on their plush duvet.  Extending his hands up towards the headboard, Alastor turned his head to look at Lucifer from beneath hooded lids, waiting.

His king was unsmiling now, but he certainly didn’t look displeased.  He looked like he’d gone to a place of rapt attention and intense focus.

He stepped over to the bed without bothering to disrobe (he hadn’t the first time after all, not for a while) and knelt between Alastor’s legs, just watching him.  The only move he made after a long moment was to raise one dark hand and click his fingers.  In an instant, Alastor was aware of enchanted rope slinking down from the headboard, binding his wrists and rendering unable to escape his husband’s keen gaze unless he used his word.

The Overlord didn’t intend to.

However, there was something that had been lingering in the back of his mind since their hushed discussion on the dance floor, so Alastor murmured, “Before we begin…may I ask a question?”

Lucifer cocked his head like a curious bird in that way of his, “Of course.”

“Earlier, you mentioned we could never replicate the conditions that allowed us to make the twins.”

“That isn’t a question, habibi.”

“It’s set dressing for the question,” Alastor said mildly and without his usual sass, too deeply couched in the headspace Lucifer had taken care to curate for him, “When I am severely injured by anything but angelic weaponry…when any sinner is severely injured…we return to factory standard as it were.  Everything returns as it was, stem to stern.  I hadn’t given it much thought before, but…why didn’t certain parts of my anatomy grow back?”

Recognition dawned in Lucifer’s eyes and he said, “Your hymen.”

“Just so.”

Slowly, Lucifer lowered himself down so he was hovering over his husband, held up on his forearms, “It’s like I said, Alastor…big magic.  It wasn’t just damaged.  Whether you realized it at the time or not, you gave that to me - symbolically speaking, that is.  The blood and flesh you offered me went into powering the ritual.  You never regenerated it because it was gifted.”

“Ah…” Alastor said, never breaking eye contact with the Devil.

“Does it upset you?” Lucifer asked.

“I never had much use for it either way…don’t even think I necessarily realized I had one to begin with.  So…no.”

“Habibi, you know that isn’t what I’m talking about,” his husband intoned, leaning so they were nose to nose, “Be honest.”

Alastor sighed and reminded himself that the point of this night was to let Lucifer be his king and that meant allowing himself a measure of vulnerability, “They’re so new yet, Lucifer.  Perhaps in a century once the children are grown and tired of me I’ll have time for something as foolish as regret.  However, I have no intention of regretting a single thing in my marriage bed.”

At last Lucifer’s lips tugged up in a wry little smirk and he nuzzled up against his mate’s cheek, “You don’t regret much, do you?”

“Nothing at all if I can help it.”

Then Lucifer was kissing him, slow and firm and Alastor was only too happy to slip his lips open and welcome him in.  He had let himself forget how sinfully long that tongue was as it insinuated itself into his mouth, stroked along his fangs and danced against his soft palate.  It didn’t feel nearly as overwhelming as it had the first time, and he found himself giving as good as he got.  Judging by the little huffs and hums of approval, it was the right instinct to follow and soon he felt as one of Lucifer’s hands lifted up from the bed, tracing the lines of his collarbones.

The Devil, predictable man that he was, followed the shallow dip at his throat and down the little hollow between his ribs, cupping a small breast in his hot palm.  Well…it wasn’t quite as small as it had been, his chest having ‘developed’ a bit over the course of his pregnancy.  Alastor was quite sure he’d be leaking into his husband’s hand if the twins hadn’t already had their dinner.  As it was, he could feel his nipple perking up in interest at the familiar touch.

Lucifer offered no commentary, continuing to kiss him breathless while his questing hand firmly kneaded the tender flesh.  His fingers stroked the plush curve of it, mindful of his claws to avoid causing any unappreciated pain.  Feeling ever-so-slightly shameless, Alastor arched his back, pushing up into that touch with a wry hum.  

His husband broke their kiss to nip at the hinge of his jaw, “You’ve gotten bolder, habibi.”

Alastor tilted his head to give Lucifer more room, gratified when his unspoken desire was quickly seen to with sucking kisses and barely-there bites, “Fancy that.”

He felt more than heard when the Devil chuckled against his throat, a hand coming up to tweak at his erect nipple scoldingly, “You were sweeter the first time.”

“I knew next to nothing the first time,” Alastor replied and tried to suppress a gasp when the tweak turned into a gentle pinch, rolling the bud between smooth fingers, “Y-your incorrigible sweet tooth will simply need to bide.”

“You’re lucky,” Lucifer growled low and mouthed at his collarbone, “That I enjoy a bit of spice too.”

The Radio Demon’s ears flicked and his head fell back to the pillow as his husband’s curious mouth only deigned to linger at his throat for a moment before drifting into the narrow valley between his breasts.  Lucifer nuzzled into the soft pelt there, inhaling the lingering scent of his sweat and cologne…perhaps detecting the faintest aroma of sweet breastmilk left behind.  The Devil could truly be a deviant when he set his mind to it, and his mind was always firmly fixed when it came to his new queen.

Alastor wrapped his hands into the ropes that bound him to the headboard, grounding himself as he purred, “What are you planning, you devious thing?”

“That depends…” Lucifer purred, rolling golden eyes up to regard his mate, “...on how rough the twins were.”

Understanding flickered, bright and white hot, in the Sinner’s brain and he breathed out slowly, saying, “Surely you aren’t still hungry, my King.”

“For you? Ravenous.  Always.”

A flicker of scarlet like a kindling flame bled up into the Devil’s catlike eyes and Alastor was drawn in by the power Lucifer teased him with.  It was still a heady thing to tempt Lucifer himself.

“Then proceed, ti zanj.”

Like a loyal hound granted a treat, Lucifer wasted no time nosing into the curve of Alastor’s free breast, nibbling a path into the softness of it.  The edges of his razor sharp teeth caught, dimpling the velvety skin without breaking it…the threat enough to send fire licking up Alastor’s thighs.  The Beast of Eden was there, lurking just under his husband’s mortal mask and oh how the Radio Demon craved him…craved the creature who had given him freedom with two hands long before he’d even been born.

The stag didn’t even bother to muffle his cry when a hell-hot mouth descended on his nipple, suckling in firm pulls.  Alastor’s core burned with need already and he tried to press his thighs together for just a bit of stimulation, but Lucifer was faster.  In an instant, his husband was fully settled between his legs, pinning them open around the toned cut of his hips.  Alastor hissed at that, the fabric of Lucifer’s suit trousers pressing up against his core in a sudden ripple of sensation.

Lucifer laughed at his flash-pop of annoyance, deep and rich as the finest whiskey, lifting his head from his mate’s nipple with a soft, wet noise, “Tut, habibi.  Your pleasure belongs to me tonight.”

Alastor leveled a narrow-eyed glare at the King and for a bare instant he saw a calculating expression come over his husband’s face.

Before he had time to properly understand the weight of that vulpine intellect, a hand was knotting itself into his red hair.  The claws scraped delicately over his scalp, wound through his locks, and pulled.  Alastor couldn’t suppress the bleat that escaped him at the pain-pleasure-pain at the back of his skull, soft and surprised.  Lucifer rumbled in satisfaction against his breast.

“Trust that I will give you exactly what you asked for, beloved.  You do not need to fight for your wants tonight.  I will worship your body as you deserve, hurt you exactly the way you desire, and fuck you precisely as you requested.  Relax,” the Devil said, low and authoritative.

Another tug and Alastor was melting into his bonds, having just enough guff left to murmur, “Not much to worship, but off you go then…”

The pull at his hair this time was prolonged and turned from pressure to the most delicious burn.  He barely noticed when Lucifer’s free hand appeared, pressing down on the scars of his abdomen, “Because of this?”

Alastor knew what he was touching…could feel the way the touch had a different texture where Lucifer’s palm lay over his cesarean scar.

Lips ghosted up from his damp nipple to travel a path down the ugly thing that bisected his chest, “This?”

Hot breath puffed against the shiny, star-shaped gunshot scar carved into his shoulder, “Or perhaps this?”

The casual examination of the damage that made Alastor DuBois-Morningstar a patchwork creature should have humiliated him.  It should have embarrassed him to have his imperfections pointed out so casually.  Yet Lucifer’s voice was reverent as he spoke as if he were discovering holy artifacts rather than mapping twisted skin.  He held Alastor still with that strong hand wrapped in his hair, keeping him both calm and present in the face of it all.

“Habibi…each of these injuries is a moment you bled for our family.  The day you fought Adam, the day you fought Vox, the day you brought Cam and Pip into the world…why wouldn’t I worship at your altar just because of this? My foolish little buck,” Lucifer punctuated his devotion with a hard roll of his hips, grinding the line of his impressive (though mournfully clothed) erection against Alastor’s sensitive folds.

Alastor groaned deep and uninhibited, his mind beginning to slip into that pleasant place Lucifer helped him find when they played like this.

“Now then…let your King worship his Queen.”

Rather than returning to his breast, Lucifer’s mouth pressed itself to the just of ribs just beneath, giving each one a quick nuzzle before plotting a new path of exploration.  He licked and sucked his meandering way down Alastor’s abdomen, stopping only to lave his tongue over every single scar and imperfection he found.  He lingered longest over the birthing scar, kissing it feather-light with lips that felt soft as a twilight prayer.  

As he went lower, he was forced to release Alastor’s hair, but it was alright.  His point had been made and the last of his husband’s defensive snappiness was far away for the time being.  

He was safe here.

He didn’t need to be on alert.

It was his wedding night to no less than the King of Hell and by all that was unholy Lucifer was behaving the part.

So Alastor panted and shivered under his ministrations, huffing softly into the still air of their private rooms as sharp teeth worked lower and lower.  He bit on his lower lip until it bled when Lucifer licked a hot stripe up the proud arch of his iliac crest where the pelt stretched tight over it.  No one would hear him, so he gave his full voice to a wretched little moan when his husband laid a firm kiss right to the hood of his aching clit.

If he were less settled in his skin at present, Alastor might have felt a twist of shame for how slick he already was after just a bit of heavy petting.  He could feel his own wetness soaking into his fur, dripping down between his ass cheeks, and surely saturating the bed beneath them.  He hadn’t felt like this since he was still pregnant…driven by need and instinct, craving his mate’s body like a drug.

Alastor had let himself forget how overwhelming it was.

Lucifer didn’t leave him waiting.  He had promised pleasure and this wasn’t a night to tease.

He dropped another kiss between Alastor’s folds and raised his head only long enough to murmur, “With the way you smell right now, we’re lucky you can’t get pregnant again or I’d never leave you empty.”

Then his nimble tongue was plunging in and Alastor was crying out at the ceiling, dizzy with the sensation of being filled for the first time in months.  He could feel his tail arching against his spine, pinned between his weight and the bedding, beginning to mat with sweat.  Lucifer’s mouth sealed over his pussy and Alastor could feel every stroke of that tongue deep within, flexing and seeking out his depths.  The Radio Demon straddled his legs wider and rolled his hips up, chasing the sensation.

Lucifer was merciful this time, his strong hands reaching up to cradle his husband’s hips rather than hold him down.  He guided him through the waves of pleasure rather than deprive him of it, stroking over shapely buttocks and pressing loving bruises into his muscles.  It felt so good, Lucifer’s nose bumping gently into the underside of his pearl with every thrust.

Alastor never quite understood the act of cunnilingus.  

He couldn’t fathom what his husband got out of licking into him like this or why he craved it so…not usually.  It had even felt vaguely dirty to him the first time Lucifer had placed his head between his thighs.  But now, as the Radio Demon looked down hazily at the golden head bobbing at the apex of his legs…as he found his gaze locking with ruby-red eyes full of feverish intent…he understood it was merely another type of worship.  

The Sinner let out a surprised wail when the tip of his husband’s tongue tapped at his cervix, and Alastor threw his head back with the column of his throat bared.  He felt the displacement of air as massive wings unfurled over them both, Lucifer letting a bit more of the man slip away while he worked to drive his mate to his first orgasm of the night.

His King.

His monster.

It was the thought more than the sensations that shoved Alastor over the edge, body locking up and air stolen from his lungs.

~*~

Alastor wasn’t sure how long he was allowed to drift after he came, big hands stroking over his quivering form in long passes.  Low croons of satisfaction, fully animal, filtered into his consciousness.  The Beast had pleased his mate and preened at a job well done.

It was only the faintest ‘click’ of magic in the air that began to peel the wool from around his brain, and the feeling of those hands taking him gently by the hips.  Alastor didn’t fight as he was turned onto his belly, wrists crossing as they had done the first time as the ropes held firm.  It was easy to relax into his pillow as Lucifer pulled his hips up, steadying him on his knees and petting every inch of skin he touched adoringly.

He heard a rumble at his sloped back and something hot and deliciously familiar crowded up against his sex, now blessedly nude.

The Sinner let out a low hum, consent and assurance all at once.

Lucifer’s sin-stained hands held him aloft and Alastor felt heat all up his back as his husband bent low over him to fasten teeth into his nape.  It hurt and he could feel a dribble of blood tracing its way down to the mattress from where the skin broke, but it was a pain Alastor appreciated.  It grounded him here in the moment as his newly-naked husband mounted him, thick cock pressing into his relaxed pussy.  The strongest being in all of Hell thought him not only worthy of his ring and his seed, but worthy of seeing him as he truly was.

They didn’t speak as they fucked, Lucifer too far beyond words to utter them and Alastor finding them quite unnecessary.  There was only heat and a primal rhythm while the King filled him again and again and again beneath the sheltering canopy of mighty wings.  It was a distant echo to their first mating, full of intent but lacking the frenzy.  It was the Devil reveling in the willingly given body of his queen, not a magic-fueled breeding fit between two men who were only newly attracted to one another.

Alastor rocked on his knees, moaning quietly into the softness of their bedding and Lucifer answered in gentle, reassuring chirps where he held his mate in place by the neck.

Safe.

Full.

The Sinner would never crave sex the way others did and more often than not he and Lucifer simply went to bed to read or sleep.  This carnality would never be an expected part of their many long days together.  Yet the pleasure now was sharp and sweet and fulsome for all that…like a fine delicacy only sampled on special occasions.  The overwhelming stretch of Lucifer’s manhood driving in and out of him was rich like blood chocolate on Alastor’s tongue.

It was a fine thing.

Lucifer made love to him with a determination unknown by mere mortals, refusing to tire or slow until Alastor clenched around him in a second climax.  Only then did his King lower his hips to the bed, driving into him quick and hard to chase his own end as if such a thing were an afterthought.  They groaned in unison as Lucifer spilled into a womb that would never quicken again, and yet this felt as special…as sacred…as it had then.

Refusing to leave the velvet clutch of Alastor’s body, Lucifer released his neck and licked away the blood from already-healing wounds.  Carefully, he relaxed his weight down onto his mate and bundled the Sinner up into an embrace with arms and wings, nosing at his hairline while they caught their breath.  The golden ropes were banished and Alastor felt one of his hands captured, brought up so Lucifer could press his lips to their marriage band.  

Still such a sentimental thing, even in the throes of his most instinctive state.

Alastor graced him with a soft stroke to the cheek.

Lucifer cooed gently at him and tucked them up close, joined from hip to hand to heart.  

In a few hours, the twins would probably need them and they’d have to be cleaned up and ready to receive their heirs.  In a few hours, Alastor would need to look untouched by all this as he always did.  In perhaps a few hours more than that, the rest of Hell would come calling and their days would fill with coronation planning once more.  In the morning, Alastor would become the feared Radio Demon once again, menacing any who dared step out of line (while also managing a hotel that seemed determined to thwart his efforts).  In the days and weeks to come, there would be negotiations with Heaven to prepare for.

But for now there was just the King and his Queen on their wedding night, skin to skin.