Archive of Our Own ^beta

Over the course of the last couple of months since the last extermination and the hotel’s fanciful rebuild, Alastor had resisted each and every change, if only to see the way the little monarch’s eye twitched at every scathing remark. 

It was nothing personal, of course! Riling the monarch up was simply too much fun, especially as he fretted about like a neurotic bee in the attempt to be certain everything was to his daughter’s liking. 

Lucifer had become a permanent resident at the hotel, an act declared bravely as Alastor’s new studio and an apple shaped dome flanked the soaring structure. Alastor hadn’t had any say in the matter, what with being mortally wounded by the First Man and all. 

It was all the past now, but he would and could, complain about the tacky interior as much as he wanted, thank you very much. Never before had the leather couches in the foyer been quite so creaky as they were currently. Colour be damned, he could at least conjure something comfortable to sit one’s behind on! 

Perhaps it was another one of the Devil's unfortunate curses, one that followed everyone around, eternal damnation in Hell and all that. 

He could have moved, of course. He had been about to, as well, after he was accosted by the dynamic duo that was the princess and her girlfriend about plans for the rehabilitation rooms and what not. Though, by the time they had left him, another familiar, blond head popped up at the bar, stealing all of his attention away. 

Most unfortunate, the reactions his body betrayed him with just from the look of Lucifer, the sound of his voice across the distance, his laughter at whatever it was Angel Dust had said. 

Look at me, look at me, look at me! He knew his own gaze screamed, though only Husk seemed to pay him any mind with a small quirk of an eyebrow. 

“Ya won’t be able ta guess what Val had me do today,” Angel moaned loudly, his obscenely long torso smacking onto the table gracelessly as he grappled for the cat, begging for a cocktail as he rambled on about his story. 

The spider’s words melted together in Alastor’s head, reduced to nothing but unintelligible white noise he had no interest in deciphering. After all, he was far too busy watching the animated interest Lucifer took in whatever it was. His red irises sparkled—and it in no way had anything to do with the low bulbs hanging over the bar emitting warm light down upon the hellish trio, stealing the air clean out of Alastor’s rotten lungs. 

A little more to the right, and they would be locking eyes, an acknowledgement of his existence in the foyer with them. Yet Alastor already knew Lucifer had clocked him before he’d entered. Husk had as well, if only on account of their contract. Angel Dust on the other hand… 

He remained far too engrossed in his own assuredly mopey story about whatever the pathetically dumb, trigger-happy moth-demon had put him through during the afternoon. Alastor watched all four of the spider’s hands flail as he explained with vigour everything that had happened. 

Lucifer chuckled at some point along the tale, that tense chuckle he’d give when something positively bewildered him. “I thought he was supposed to be knowledgeable about this kind of stuff,” he snorted into his pale green appletini, “didn’t he do this stuff alive too?” 

“Huh? Nah. Val doesn’t know an ass from a cunt, even with glasses on at this point. Clearly, since he didn’t fuckin’ remember my prostate doesn’t make me squirt outta my ass!” 

Those were words Alastor never, ever wished the misfortune of having to hear again for as long as his soul existed in Hell, or beyond. If he had pearls to clutch, he was certain his hand would have gone for the string like some kind of upper-class uppity woman with a morality complex. He had to settle for scraping his claws against the back of his recently repaired staff, trying not to think of the cost of that. 

Around him, his static whined and chirped loudly—matched in the needy writhing his shadow was doing as it danced across the wall, he was sure—stuck between annoyance and absolute embarrassment. 

All three heads whipped around to stare at him, different expressions colouring all of them, though Angel Dust was quick to shake off the surprise with something akin to flirtation. 

Wagging his eyebrows, he smirked just wide enough to show off that golden tooth he had. “It’s not nice ta eavesdrop, Smiles.” 

“I assure you, the last one I would ever think had any useful information for me to pick up, is you,” Alastor said, flaring his grin a tad wider. He couldn’t very well let any of them know he’d spent the entire conversation seated in the background like a statue, clenching his hands on his thighs at the mere look of the fun-sized monarch’s profile. Admire was much too weak a word. 

“Ouch, don’t sugarcoat it,” the spider huffed, surprisingly offended, easily chalked up to whatever emotional abuse he’d suffered at the hands of the insect he refused any help with squashing. 

Alastor wrinkled his nose, ready to give another retort when Lucifer chuckled—this time one that had pleasant tingles running down the length of his spine—before hopping off the stool. In his previously unoccupied hand, a fresh finger of rye whiskey waited. 

“Okay, okay, no fighting in the hotel’s fresh foyer, thanks,” the King shook his head, “sounds like you had a rough day, Angel. Keep your chin up, hm?” He inclined his head toward them as a gesture of farewell. 

Or so Alastor thought. 

Husk moved in like a puppet on a string, capturing the spider’s attention with a swift, yet gruff “what happened next?” as though actually invested in the daily ails and wails of the certified adult movie star. 

“Having a realization that’s ripping the carpet out from under you?” Lucifer laughed as he dumped down beside him on the couch, black claws supporting the glass of rye from beneath. He could just see both of his eyes over the crystal rim, intense and scanning. 

There was a time that kind of attention would have him throwing insults like spears on a battlefield in an attempt to hide before letting the shadows swallow him up. Now he relished in being at the centre of Lucifer’s attention, where he hoped the world melted away as entirely as it did for him. 

“My feet are firmly planted, thank you very much,” Alastor said as he accepted the drink, letting his fingers graze by Lucifer’s, making tingles run up his own arm, all the way to the shoulder. 

“Hm, funny, you seem to think I was gesturing to the lovebirds.” Lucifer’s grin turned predatory, pearly white teeth gleaming under the lights. At that moment, he looked every bit the Devil the bible texts claimed he was across the board. Wicked temptation in raw form. 

Alastor felt entirely too seen and known even without having said a single word to confirm or deny yet. With Lucifer, he rarely needed to, much less wanted to. However, today… today, he had been caught unawares, unprepared for the onslaught coming from the conversation had with the spider demon, his fellow sinner, however different their tally added up. 

“Why, was there anything else to be speculating about, sire?” He asked after a moment, using the only tool at his disposal to scream internally for a moment—taking a sip of the rye as he formed his reply. It burned hot down his throat, a soothing balm, oddly enough. 

The mirth in Lucifer’s shining orbs slowly softened, growing fond at the edges as those little hidden crows feet by his eyes made their appearance—only doing so when he was truly relaxed while smiling. Most would kill to see their hellish monarch with such an expression on his face, colouring his countenance with absolute adoration, but not Alastor. 

No, Alastor knew all too well what lay behind it, what he’d found in Alastor that caused it to make an appearance from the depths where it usually waited for the opportune—or ill opportune—moment. 

“You’re acting like someone’s holding a loaded gun to your head,” the little Devil snickered, flicking one tense ear. The sting only lasted seconds, yet Alastor had to rub it to get the tickling sensation off. 

“I would prefer if someone were, actually,” he bit out, hiding behind yet another sip, holding the precious droplets on his tongue for a prolonged time, even as Lucifer’s eyebrows lifted. 

“Tell me you weren’t comparing your lack of knowledge to the likes of that prick doing less than the bare minimum because he’s a sadistic bitch,” Lucifer hissed softly at him, mouth hanging agape with the absolute shock of it. 

“Well excuse me. It would not have been an issue if the conversation wasn’t forced upon my ears entirely without my consent,” he huffed in return. Heat prickled at the back of his neck, called out and hating every second. 

It brought him, unfortunately, into a pickle of a fatal mistake. “Oho, I’m sure I would have noticed at some point, Al,” Lucifer chuckled, “but, since you wanna play hard ball, how about a bet?” 

Sweeter music had never been played in Alastor’s ears, and while he could smell the trap for what it was, the stroke of greed in him blazed up hot as hellfire licking across his skin. “I’m listening.” 

Leaning in like one of those tinfoil-hat conspiracists, Lucifer smirked as he laid his cards out, “I bet I can make you come without touching your dick at all.” 

Alastor had to remind himself they were technically in public, even as he hardly thought Husker counted on a good day. Static whining, he lowered his lids to stare at the King. 

“You sound so certain of your victory, my liege,” Alastor responded haughtily, remembering the few times they’d been intimate thus far. Twice, he’d taken Lucifer’s cock, and each time, they’d ended up a right mess, Lucifer’s hand around Alastor’s cock included. 

Alas, it did seem the odds were quite in his favour. “I accept your bet, naturally, at a counter that I don’t believe for a second you will be able to keep your fingers away from my cock.” 

“I guess we’ll have to wait and see, then.” Lucifer’s hand on his thigh was blisteringly warm, searing him down to the bone, and he knew he should have pushed it off and regained some dignity, instead, he found his legs relaxing, watching that traitorous hand slide another inch up, fingers curling over the inside of his thigh as they stopped. “What do you want if you win?” 

Alastor chewed on the question for a moment, weighing the pros and cons carefully in his mind for each suggestion proposed. A one-man jury, all he had to do was convince himself that ah yes, this is what I want if my victory is secured, alas, it was not so simple. 

His own suggestions ranged from the funnier kinds of being allowed to dress Lucifer for a week, to the lightly meaner ones demanding no kisses, no touch, and absolutely no sex for at least 185 days—six months, or thereabout, in layman’s terms—and to the positively deranged ones in being allowed a meal of choice made from the Devil’s body. 

Delivered raw.

Skin, bones, sinew, tendons, organs. Alastor wanted, desperately, not to know what an angel’s brain tasted of, but to know what Lucifer’s brain tasted like. Even by his own standards, the desire was rather extreme, and he could already imagine the heavy recoil from the angel in question. At worst, it could spark the end of their romps. 

Now, he wouldn’t claim any feelings of adulation toward Lucifer, it was much too soon to be figuring out the proper origins of these, at times, pestering emotions and their accompanying swarm of bugs annoying his stomach and nerves. Even so, he would hate to go back to the way things were. Risking the King’s attention—and clear affection—for him, all to fulfil a wish one time, one he could then be likely to never repeat in his lifetime…

No. He had a much better plan. 

“If I win this darling bet of ours,” he began strong, his smile twitching at the corners, “you will owe me a night of carnal pleasures, in which I will refuse your completion until you are a sobbing, whimpering mess beneath me.” 

Lucifer’s eyes inverted at the next blink, just long enough for Alastor to catch the clear interest his statement wrought, arousal simmering beneath the surface. He was a storm waiting to be unleashed. 

“And if you win then, sire, what is it you wish to claim as your prize?” Well satisfied with his own answer, his attention shifted to Lucifer, eagerly awaiting what his majesty might want to subject him to. 

With an age like Lucifer’s, and the wisdom and experiences to boot, the sky was the limit for the things he might suggest to himself, and claim as a prize.

“If I win…” Lucifer pondered, teeth digging into his lower lip for a moment, worrying at the pale skin, “I want to do that thing you enjoyed so much, with a proper rod this time.” 

Alastor’s next breath caught in his throat. Of the near countless dares an angel of the Lord could have spurred against a demon like himself, that was not one of them. His eyes lifted over Lucifer’s shoulder, glancing back at the duo over at the bar, thankfully fully engrossed in a conversation. 

No one, particularly not the spider demon, needed to know what kind of involvement he had with the King. He was certain his fellow demon, lust-bitten as he was, would have much insight in the matter, just as he was certain if he had six arms, surely he wouldn’t miss two of them. 

“My, my, do my reactions make you so besotted that you need more?” Alastor huffed before throwing back his drink, sure to regret it the moment he swallowed as he’d have nothing else to hide behind until this entire transaction was completed. 

Lucifer didn’t rise to the bait this time. Instead, he simply leaned back against the backrest of the couch, one elbow propped up elegantly. “I really, really enjoyed how enthusiastically you sucked me off before I fucked you while that plug was still in your dick, yeah. If that’s a crime, arrest me now,” he snarked.

For the first time in a good, solid while, Alastor had no good comeback, barring one that sounded like a refusal to play. The image was seared into his brain—Lucifer’s charred, clawed hands making efficient, yet gentle work of penetrating him in a place where he never would have imagined there even existed toys for, much less so many kinds. His own pre had bubbled around the lubed little plug, but no matter how valiantly he attempted to twitch and leak, it never quite happened. 

“Hey, if it’s something you don’t want to do, do not say yes just to please me, or just because it’s a prize of a bet. Say the word and I’ll change it.” Lucifer speaking once more ripped Alastor from his thoughts, but it could not sever the way his attention lingered around the rapid tightening in his own pants. 

Perhaps he would need to face the uncomfortable fact it was something both of them were uniquely aroused by, for some illogical, damned, reason. 

“Not at all, sire!” Alastor quipped, “far be it for me to police what you choose as your prize.” The very moment the words had left his lips, Lucifer’s mighty brows dipped. His dissatisfaction with the answer was obvious, if not a smidgen hard to decipher for Alastor. 

“Then we have an accord,” Lucifer said moments later, beckoning Alastor over with a finger until their lips could meet in a soft press of lips against one another. The Devil tasted of apple liqueur and brimstone as their bet was solidified in the shape much akin to a deal.

They sat there, staring at each other for a handful of seconds until Lucifer rose and loudly announced they were retiring—prompting Husk’s face to contort with an air of why did you tell me this and open, alluring excitement from the spider. If there was a God, he hated Alastor’s guts on a good day. 

Why Lucifer insisted on taking the long route up to his rooms on the top floor, Alastor didn’t know. Nerves built every second they spent side by side in the lift, making his skin tight across his bones. It was so unlike himself when it came to simple wagers. 

But wagers with the Devil were never as simple as they looked on the surface. Especially not these ones, being of such an unfamiliar nature to Alastor. He’d agreed, partially because he trusted Lucifer, but even more out of a sick sense of needing to be equal to him, always. Regardless of the half-definitions colouring their relationship, he refused to let the King be his better in any way. 

That included in the bedroom. Even if he was, admittedly, incredibly experienced compared to Alastor who, apart from the few memories he had of touching himself with half-hearted interest as a human, had only had the king to compare, and study as a bed partner.

He let Lucifer lead him by the hand through the door, his clammy skin meeting dry fingers. The act would have caused criminally homicidal intent in himself, loath as he was to admit it, but Lucifer never seemed to mind.

Nothing inside the apple dome had changed in the days since his last appearance there, yet he felt strangely nude simply crossing the threshold. Stripped bare even as his gaze followed the same precursory sweep he always did, just in case there was a fly in the window sill with an entirely mechanical chime to it, or an eerie, green spider in a corner it did not belong in. 

There was nothing, however. Spotless. Even the grand, four-poster bed was fully made. Any ongoing projects carefully moved to the side on the workbench over by the panoramic view over Pentagram City. Pale orange light streamed from the outside, entirely at odds with the dark red hues of nighttime falling over the Pride Ring. 

“It’s reminiscent of a warm, earth sunset, isn’t it?” Lucifer said, suddenly right beside Alastor, lifting a black hand to curl around a stray ray of filtered light. It scattered across his skin like glinting scales across a serpent’s back. 

“It’s beautiful,” Alastor conceded, breath catching just a smidgen in his throat. Heat flooded his cheeks as Lucifer’s head popped up, finding his gaze immediately. 

“Does the flatterer need help undressing, or can he manage by himself?” Cheeks tinged with a pale, golden spatter, Lucifer looked ethereal in his approach, fingers walking slowly up the flat expanse of Alastor’s clothed chest. 

For someone so tied to temptation and pride, Lucifer was oddly susceptible to embarrassment over compliments. Especially those he was unprepared for, or perhaps that was simply Alastor’s infrequent use of them making him such. 

  “Why don’t you ready whatever it is you need to lose this bet, and I will get myself ready to roll in my victory,” Alastor said jauntily, lifting Lucifer’s hand to press a kiss to his knuckles before stepping away. He began unbuttoning his jacket immediately, throat strangely dry as Lucifer watched him without blinking. 

“I’ve got everything I need to win at the snap of a finger, Alastor,” the Devil smirked, forked tongue licking across his lips as he snapped his own clothes away without hesitation. “I’m deeply content to watch you undress, as I revel in the knowledge that I’ll be wiping that self-satisfied smirk off your face before long.” 

As Alastor shrugged off his jacket, he had half a mind to toss it at Lucifer where he sat at the edge of the bed. His static whined and chirped at the sight of him, pleased as punch. 

Usually, being the centre of attention—especially Lucifer’s attention—was something he revelled in, and yet he couldn’t help but wonder, as he plucked at the buttons of his shirt, why this time felt so different. 

Their bet filled his veins with excitement, the prospect of a little friendly competition with lovely stakes attached truly most appealing in every regard. Something glinting beneath the surface of Lucifer’s garnet eyes gave him pause, however. 

Especially as he at long last could remove his pants and underwear, revealing himself fully to the other. Lucifer’s cock twitched in his lap, the half-hard appendage making valiant efforts to rise like Lazarus, just from the sight of him. 

Loath as he was to admit it, for it would make Lucifer’s head fill the entire room, it was the sincerest form of flattery coming from him. Alastor thought, anyway. 

The state of other people’s bodies wasn’t something he much ranked in levels of arousal within himself, even with Lucifer. Alastor liked his body for the gracefulness with which he walked, the poise and strength he carried in his attitude. 

Why yes, he more admired people the way a butcher would his esteemed herd of cows when picking which ones would go to slaughter. People were useful or sustenance, nothing more, nothing less. 

“Come here, Alastor.” Lucifer spoke quietly, as if he dared not disturb the air in the room too much. He patted the bed beside himself, the sheets snapped away at some point while Alastor undressed. “Why don’t you get comfortable?” 

He bristled at the implication, tail flicking upward as he sat down on the soft mattress. “I am plenty comfortable, I assure you.” 

Small, warm hands gripped his shoulders, guiding him backwards gently until he laid flat like a christmas feast. Lucifer watched him with a smile that pulled gently at the rounded circles on his cheeks. It felt oddly predatory being gazed at in such a way. 

Lucifer wanted to kiss him, he realized. Or devour him. Likely the first, though the latter made his veins sizzle with arousal. 

“So long as you’re sure,” Lucifer purred, stroking down his chest slowly, claws rasping gently across his skin. The touch burned like a lit candle wick pressed to his skin. 

“Like this is fine,” he admitted begrudgingly, flushed to his chest as a pillow suddenly made its appearance beneath his hips, elevating him further for Lucifer’s perverse enjoyment. 

“Just lemme know at any moment if you wanna move,” the King murmured back, throwing a quick smile his way, brows twitching and threatening to lower as he zeroed in between Alastor’s spread legs. 

A quiet, bitten-off sound rang out between them as one of Lucifer’s wetted fingers stroked at the tight furl of his ass. He exhaled softly, allowing his body to relax against the coming intrusion before the Devil could remind him. It worked splendidly, the delicate finger sank into his waiting body without issue or resistance. 

“Hell, you’re so gorgeous,” Lucifer said, topped off with an aroused groan, his finger pumped slowly and gently within Alastor’s clenching walls. 

“Why, sire, I’m not even doing anything at the moment,” he replied, voice coated heavily with static interference. 

“You don’t need to. Can’t I just like looking at the faces you make like this?” Lucifer kept staring at him, intently, as though he was something to be revered and worshipped. 

“And what sort of faces am I making?” Alastor asked waspishly, his smile tightened at the corners. Atop his head, his ears had flopped to the sides, resting against the pillow beneath his head. 

Silence reigned for several seconds. Lucifer’s finger withdrew from him, leaving a quiet pang in Alastor’s chest until he returned with two, both of them blunt and wet as they sank easily past his rim and twisted within his body. 

The King leaned over him, staring at him as his fingers pumped. While not at all unpleasant, the feeling spreading from his ass and up his groin were but small, gentle waves of pleasure. Nothing near anything of what was needed to make him reach orgasm. 

“I love the way your jaw falls open, and one of your eyes almost close when I do this,” Lucifer purred at him, curling the fingers buried in him upwards. 

Intense pleasure spread over his skin, shooting in bursts from every stroke of the fingers within. He gasped, feeling the way his face contorted on instinct to make Lucifer’s vision come to life. 

His pursuit to win their bet showed in the presence of relentless, firm strokes. Alastor’s head swam with the pleasure he received from it, his own resolve to keep firm and breathe his way through it all quickly tossed out the window. 

The sound of sheets ripping felt distanced, even as the loose threads caught in his claws. His cock rested heavy against his stomach, rapidly filling out and leaking steadily. 

“I forget how new everything is to you, Al. Every virgin-obsessed man’s wet fucking dream, and here you are, sucking in my fingers like greed is all you know,” Lucifer growled at him, twin bulbs of horns pressing and breaking out slowly on his forehead. 

A steady stream of sounds left him, static undercurrent tweaking like the knob on a radio being spun. Lucifer never stopped, never allowed him a moment to breathe, unlike the last time they’d done this. 

Alastor was rapidly facing a loss he should have seen coming a mile away. Someone should have warned him against betting with the Devil himself, with his wisdom and loopholes. 

“I can’t–” He gasped, clenching his eyes closed. The tension that built within him was so very different from when Lucifer used his hand, deeper somehow, as though pleasure itself became the blood that pumped through his veins.

His orgasm approached rapidly, hurtling toward the precipice—yet his deliverance never arrived. Lucifer slowed his fingers, pressing the pads harder against that little, delicate spot within him. Each hard circle making his eyes roll under closed lids. 

Alastor’s cock twitched rapidly, fluid hitting his belly, even though he hadn’t come yet. Eyes springing open wide, he stared, jaw slack as a fish out of water at the steady flow of murky fluid forming a puddle in the hollow between his thighs. 

“Look at yourself, Alastor, and tell me this isn’t the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.” Somewhere along the proceedings, Lucifer had become aroused as well. His cock bobbed in the air, a single, shimmering tear falling down the apricot coloured head to meet the pale skin at the root of his shaft. 

“Oh yes, I can see how well you enjoy the view,” Alastor teased, voice hitching as more fluid dribbled from his cock. Whatever confusion that tried to muddle the arousal in his veins was far too little to make a difference. 

“I do. I’ll be thinking about this for weeks,” he promised with a wink. 

When Lucifer sped up again, this time, hand slapping against Alastor’s backside, he knew he’d lost the bet. Loud, warbling static rattled the windows and drowned out the loud groans he was helpless to staunch. An orgasm unlike anything he’d ever experienced snapped the tension in his abdomen, flooding his senses with intense pleasure. 

His steadily leaking cock jerked and spurted what little it had left to give all the way up to his chin. 

True to his word, Lucifer hadn’t laid a hand, tail or magic touch against it. It was a win, fair and square. Not that Alastor had the mental capabilities to verbalise the thoughts as he was worked through the last remnants slowly, thighs quivering like leaves. 

Helpless, was what he was. Stuck like a fly in the spider’s sticky web. Escape was impossible, he had sealed his fate with the loss of their bet. 

~ ~ ~ 

Alastor had originally expected Lucifer to claim his prize immediately upon his victory. But their last romp had now been three days hence, and his sanity was slipping away slowly. 

In the agonising suspense of not knowing when Lucifer would call for him, he’d taken to the habit of sleeping in the King’s chambers, if one could call it a habit after only three meagre days. 

Still, morning, forenoon and afternoon passed on the fourth day, and Alastor felt drugged with anticipation. Every nerve in his body alight with what was to come, and he truly feared he might crumble within the hour if nothing happened soon. 

“Well, sire, have I not suffered enough?” He said, all but stomping out from the bathroom, dressed in nothing but his birthday suit, as young sinners called it these days. 

Lucifer—who had occupied himself with patting down the sheets far more than was necessary—snapped his head up to stare at him as though he’d grown a second head. “What?” 

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, he approached the bed with smooth, even strides. Within moments, he stared the Devil down with narrowed eyes. “Surely you’ve not gone deaf on me now,” he drawled. 

A pale, golden shimmer flitted across Lucifer’s cheek. His eyes darted around the dome without settling. Sixty-six kinds of panicked, was he? It should have brought more joy than it did, truly. 

“I’m pretty sure I heard you just fine,” Lucifer laughed, that low, tense sort of laughter he usually reserved for anyone but him. It was ingenuine and reeked of discomfort. 

“Then do you mind telling me why you have kept me waiting?” Alastor forced his voice to find some sort of softness, curling the words differently around his static and his tongue. He reached out, stilling the relentless patting Lucifer had kept up on the sheets. 

One could easily mistake the touch as grounding, and comforting. In reality, he was three pats away from ripping the sheets clean off the bed and eating them in frustration. 

“Waiting?” the Devil squeaked, eyes going big and round as saucers, “I came up just after you, though?” 

Alastor’s right eye twitched, stitches holding his smile up tightening uncomfortably. A low droning played beneath the static crackling over his words. “Playing dense now, are we, sire?”

Lucifer stared at him, joined hands still as the grave, despite the panic fluttering over his countenance. “There’s no need to start hulking out on me, okay? I was just, you know, waiting for something to arrive from Lust.” 

While he wasn’t entirely certain what a ‘hulk’ was, he could reasonably infer his antlers had been branching out toward a full rack. The lack of red bleeding into the edges of his vision was a good sign, he thought. 

“And? Has it arrived?” he cocked a brow at Lucifer, retreating to stand at the foot of the bed. The quicker they could get this all over with, the better his life would be. 

Humming nonchalantly, Lucifer lifted a small, pale parcel as it dropped into his palm by way of red sparkles. It looked like nothing special. A small, rectangular box of creamy white painted cardboard, completed with a red satin bow infused with golden threads. 

Ha! Someone over at Lust was having entirely too much fun packaging whatever it was that was nestled within the little thing. 

“Listen,” Lucifer began suddenly, startling Alastor from his one-sided staring contest with an inanimate package, “if we do this… you’ll need to agree to some ground rules first.” 

“Oh, please, I always listen,” Alastor countered with a puff. His tail began to sway over his lower back, anticipation bubbling into a sickening excitement in his veins. 

For a blink, Lucifer’s eyes flashed golden, having no faith in him at all. “Come on, Alastor. I mean it.” 

He knew where the fallen angel was going with it—after all, not his first rodeo with the kind of carnal perversion involved—yet there was a sense of annoyance about it all. Spreading thick and slow like molten lava through his veins. 

“We have gone over this once before, no?” Alastor chuckled mostly to himself and yanked the sheets clean off the bed before poofing them away into his shadows for safekeeping. 

“Hey!” Lucifer barked, throwing a glare his way, “once a brat, always a brat,” he muttered quietly, but not so Alastor couldn’t hear it. 

“I’m merely stating the obvious. You seem to be very concerned about this for the one who asked for this as a prize.”  Alastor sat down at the edge of the bed, his tail thumping gently against the covered mattress. 

When Lucifer’s gaze met his, finally, Alastor curled his fingers around his soft cock, lifting the appendage up gently. “Now then, carry on.” 

Dark brows lowered until they almost covered the blood-red irises below. “Do you think this is a joke, Al?”

He blinked, perplexed. “Not in particular. I would merely like to be in bed sometime this century.” 

Discomfort prickled at the back of his neck. The longer Lucifer took to start doing something, anything, he felt pushed toward a corner, backed into solid blessed carpentry which made escape impossible. 

He knew Lucifer could tell, but the Devil’s apprehension for something he asked for to begin with was truly mind-boggling. It was surely better to get this over with and carry on to sleep, if you asked him. Of course, the Devil rarely seemed interested in what he thought, always so full of his hard-earned wisdom. 

“If you don’t want to do this—”

“Why sire, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re projecting,” Alastor taunted. 

“Don’t call me that. Not like this,” Lucifer shook his head solemnly as he undid the carefully tied bow around the rectangular box in his hands. “I think the problem is I know how badly I want this,” he murmured, “to watch you gasp and squirm as I fuck you in a way I know you’ve never been fucked before in your existence.” 

Blood rushed to Alastor’s head, filling his cheeks with colour as he stared at the Devil’s hands, the parcel’s contents revealed slowly to him as the words rattled around in an echo inside his mind. Two reasonably thin items were nestled in bright crimson silk, one matte silicone from the scent of it, the other rigid, shining metal. Both had a small silicone band attached at the top. 

Vaguely, somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembered the structure. The last time they had played with things like these, Lucifer had shown him a world of pleasure he’d never quite experienced before, all while that little band was locked under the head of his cock. 

He’d babbled many things that night, things that came back to him when he drifted off to sleep, startling him awake again, hurrying to crank down the emissions of his own static to ensure Lucifer hadn’t heard them, even if they slept in separate rooms. 

“Fine,” Alastor ground out between clenched teeth, “I’m listening.” 

Lucifer trod over the few steps that remained on eager hooves, all but shoving the little box under his nose. 

“Okay, so, see the length of them? The one we used only went about here.” As he explained, he put a finger at the start of Alastor’s shaft, not even halfway down his length. “This will go all the way down once it’s fully inserted. I don’t want to hurt you, so you’ll need to tell me if something hurts or is too much.” 

It was almost too much to take in as he watched Lucifer’s finger rest against the root of his cock, pressed just barely into his public bone. He was never one to back down from a challenge, not even one that made his stomach fill with uneasy butterflies. Yet he couldn’t help but feel excited all the same. 

Backing down was not an option, or so smite him, God. 

Alastor sighed quietly, lifting his gaze from the rods to Lucifer’s face. “Very well, dear. Cross my heart and hope to die, I will tell you if it is too much,” he said, knowing full well it was a half-truth at best.

“We’ll start with the silicone one, yeah?” Lucifer was already breathless, near vibrating as he rested beside Alastor on the bed. So delightfully eager, cheeks flushed just enough the golden sheen made his skin shimmer. 

“Go right ahead.” Alastor leaned back on his elbows, cock twitching gently as it perked up a smidgen. The strange, yet not totally unfamiliar flood of arousal curling along his thighs and abdomen were starting unfairly quickly tonight.

With the whisper of a touch, a strange wetness coated his insides, slicked up by magic alone. He gasped, skin prickling from the strange sensation.

The matte silicone shone in the orange light streaming from the windows, lubrication dripping from the end of it as Lucifer brought it to the head of his cock. 

A loud, static-laden gasp ripped from his throat without permission as it entered the delicate little hole at the top. Alastor writhed as it slid smoothly down just a handful of centimetres before Lucifer eased it back out, letting him rest a couple of seconds before doing it all again. 

Pleasure burst like firecrackers against his nerves, shooting down his shaft to settle in his groin. Staying still was a fight, both because he didn't want to have an injured appendage in need of healing making a right mess everywhere, and because every dip into his urethra carried with it such intensity his static fritzed. 

Every light bulb in the dome flickered in time with Lucifer’s ministrations. The deeper he pressed the rod, the quicker the intervals.

The Devil was patient and kind with him, like he had been that very first night they had been properly intimate. Alastor watched, drunk with the feeling of it working its ridged shaft down the inside of his cock. Every languid stroke now was stopped halfway through, then it was eased out once more. 

Gripping the sheets, he inhaled in sharp, short bursts as Lucifer almost had the plunger down far enough he could lock it there with the little silicone ring. And then what? He asked himself. What then would the Devil do to him, and put his body through? 

“Breathe, Alastor,” Lucifer said suddenly, his free hand stroking over his sternum. “I don’t want you passing out on me.” 

Something warm and smooth coiled slowly around the base of his cock, keeping it steady. It tickled, and forced his head to keep on the correct side of consciousness. 

“Apologies,” he wheezed out before all the air punched out of his chest as Lucifer’s hand suddenly felt like an anvil pressing him down. The room spun for a moment, the dual sensation of the weight coming off his chest accompanied by the sounding rod finally coming into place at the base of his cock nearly too much to handle.

The sound of glass breaking in the far distance accompanied by a yelp told them both that some lurking fool in the hallway got the scare of a lifetime. 

It should have thrilled him, the idea of some idiot getting caught in a burst of glass rain, yet laughing at the moment seemed a horrid idea.

Once the room stilled, he looked down the length of his body, past Lucifer’s hand rubbing slow, gentle circles over his sternum to the length of tail coiled prettily around his cock, keeping it upright. 

“You’re so gorgeous like this, Alastor,” Lucifer cooed at him, teeth gleaming as they closed around his bottom lip hard enough to send a thin river of golden blood down his chin. 

Alastor watched his cock twitch, still no more than half hard as the tip glistened, slightly more flushed than usual from the lubrication and repeated penetration. The silicone band fit comfortably snug under the head, keeping his foreskin at bay. 

Heart pounding, he licked his lips. “This can’t be all you planned for your prize, hm?” He arched a brow as Lucifer’s head snapped up. 

Together, their gazes slowly traversed down Lucifer’s pale skin, across the expanse of his chest all the way down to his crotch, where his cock jutted out proudly, achingly, from his hips. 

“If I jostle you too much while you’ve got that in, I could seriously hurt you,” Lucifer rumbled quietly, brows drawing down over his eyes. 

He looked so serious, Alastor couldn’t quite help the short burst of laughter. “Well then! Seems you had best keep me steady then.” 

“Alastor,” the King warned, expression contorting into a scowl, “we’ve talked about this.” 

“And talked, and talked, and talked—” Alastor parroted, rolling his eyes, “I understand the risks, and I do not care. This will all be for naught if it ends here.” 

“Do you want me to fuck you, Alastor?” Lucifer’s brows rose up high, as though the idea was shocking. 

Ha! Perhaps it was. Perhaps he had lost what remained of his sanity to even ask for the Devil’s cock to burn his insides like a brand. 

“Do, or don’t, no skin off my back,” Alastor snarked, “but if you aren’t going to do anything past this, I’ll be going to sleep.” He reached for the rod, intent on snapping the little silicone ring over the head of his cock.

“Wow, wow, hold up,” Lucifer stopped him, indignance flaring in his eyes, “sue me for caring about your safety, you ass.” 

“Why, I wasn’t aware one could be sued in hell!” Alastor snapped back, barking a laugh. His antlers creaked as they broadened between his ears. 

The Devil’s reaction was immediate, horns breaking free from his forehead and rising up high. Anger flared in the reds of his eyes, burning brighter than the bulb of hellfire that crackled to life. “Do not test me, Alastor. You are at my mercy.” 

“I am restless in the wake of the utter boredom of your inaction,” Alastor huffed. He writhed, attempting to sit up when Lucifer pressed on the rod buried in his length, pressing it down a smidgen further. 

His back arched off the bed immediately, hissing. A bubble of sharp pleasure burst somewhere along his inner thighs, crawling up his abdominals as his head fell back.

“You want me to fuck you, I’ll fuck you.” Lucifer’s grin was sharp and predatory as he lifted Alastor’s legs up, keeping them suspended with nothing but a thought. 

His static wailed as two fingers plunged into him, dripping with magical lube. Each thrust had his legs trembling, cock twitching something terrible, even as the deep rod kept any droplets from escaping. The movement jolted him, his eyes rolling back as his hips flexed. Which sensation he attempted to get away from he didn’t know. The flood of pleasure was inescapable, assaulted from both sides. 

“Is that all you’ve got?” Alastor taunted, breaking off into a sharp moan as a third finger snuck in, pressing against his prostate. 

“I wanted to be nice to you today, Alastor,” Lucifer growled, pressing and wiggling the rod. His hand slapped audibly against Alastor’s cheeks. 

The beginnings of an orgasm sizzled up his spine, tightening his groin. Every touch felt like live wire burning at his insides. “Lucifer—”

Alastor could scarcely breathe as Lucifer pressed harder, fingers circling within him like a man hell-bent on breaking him. A sob pressed from his throat as the radio on the night stand kicked to life, the melody of Christie’s Yellow River ringing out loudly into the room. 

Lucifer’s gaze snapped to his face, his hand ceasing its relentless assault on his insides as the song registered before Alastor had a chance to strangle it with his shadow. Concern marred his angelic features, and it made Alastor’s guts churn uncomfortably. 

“I’ll play nice, I promise,” he panted, tail wagging helplessly excited, partially drenched in lube, against the bed. 

“There’s my good boy,” Lucifer praised him with a purr. His eyes roved across Alastor’s form. Tension bled slowly from his expression, overtaken by mischief. 

The perks of courting someone who could warp space and time, as well as bend materials to his will without breaking a sweat, was that instead of getting rug-burns from the sheets, half the bed simply… disappeared.

Alastor’s legs were saved from the sudden fall by Lucifer’s shoulders, his ass hanging just on the mattress edge where Lucifer wanted him. 

His tail had curled further up, like a living coil keeping his cock safe, while the Devil was free to dig his claws into the sparse meat of his thighs.

Their moans harmonised as Lucifer pushed into him slowly, the girth of his cock opening him up slowly as he was filled inch by inch until Lucifer’s hips were flush with ass. 

“Fuck, Al. I prepped you, how are you still this tight,” Lucifer groaned, not sounding at all displeased as he withdrew partially and filled him again, stealing the air from Alastor’s lungs. 

A deep, involuntarily guttural sound pushed up from Alastor’s chest, void of his usual filter. He attempted to speak, trying to make his thick tongue formulate the sparse coherent thoughts that were left in his brain. 

Something was up—though not necessarily wrong—with his insides. Lucifer felt impossibly big, and the feeling only grew with every thrust, legs trembling like leaves in the Devil's grasp. 

Part of him wanted to stop, if only he could break that three-letter word free from his limp, useless tongue. A sound almost like a sob punched out of him, tears gathering and making his vision blurry as he threw an arm over his face. 

Lucifer hushed him gently, voice trembling and brittle, even as the slow, even drag of his cock remained the same. His hands were warm and strong against Alastor's thighs as he patted, seeking to comfort while the touch danced sparks of pleasure across Alastor’s already overly sensitive skin. 

It felt like that night three days ago, when he’d lost the bet, it felt like the night Lucifer hadn’t been able to stop dreaming about, yet neither of those nights could measure up to the sensory overload he was facing now. 

And Lucifer… he had wanted this sight so dearly, had yearned for it. His thrusts were gentle, savouring the moment and dragging it out for eternity while hearing every sound, feeling every twitch rippling through Alastor’s frame. 

A feeling not unlike a building orgasm bloomed in the pit of his stomach, but where it would usually snap and offer relief, it kept building, and building and building—

“Let go, Alastor,” Lucifer’s voice drifted over his senses from far away. 

His body vibrated with the words as he felt his spine move and tense up, but none of the usual pain followed. 

He heard a pop and a crash in the distance, then everything went black, and all sensation was lost. 

~×~×~×~×~ 

“Alastor?” 

His name was the first sound that registered as consciousness elected to return to him. His limbs were heavy and aching, making movement slow and uncooperative. 

“Hey, hey, calm down, I’m right here,” Lucifer said, warm palms sliding down Alastor's clammy arms.

The world was still dark, no light of any kind streaming from anywhere, even as he was relatively certain—

“Open your eyes for me. Can you do that?” 

A finger stroked against his cheek as he groaned and slowly raised his lids. The canopy curtains around the bed had been unleashed, shielding them from most of the lights of Pentagram City's eternal nightlife and annoying billboards. 

In the near darkness, it took a moment to adjust, but the look of concern and guilt marring Lucifer’s beautiful features was one he’d recognize even blind. 

The smell of green apples and their acidity clung to his skin as they gazed upon one another. 

“Are you—” the Devil stopped himself, taking a deep breath. Something shaky ran a current underneath, as though he’d tried to make contact and gone hoarse from it. 

“I can barely feel my hooves,” Alastor commented mildly. In fact, anything below the waist was currently a tad murky on the sensation front. 

“That's not funny, Al,” Lucifer said with a scowl in his direction, “you passed out after blowing out every fuse at the hotel. I couldn't leave you, people came knocking—” 

“Ah, so that's why the canopy is drawn,” he murmured, batting at Lucifer’s probing hands at his chest, halting their south-bound trek. “Stop that, I’m clearly fine.” 

His jaw snapped shut so hard it sounded like a tooth or two broke once he caught a glimpse of Lucifer’s face over his arm. He looked like a painting, a sculpture of the finest material. Perfectly crafted with the craftsmanship one could only dream of possessing. 

“We have a system in place for exactly this reason. Safe words, colours, and hand signals. Why the fuck didn’t you say anything when you were going hazy?” 

Alastor blinked, the anger taking him entirely by surprise. “You were enjoying yourself, mon cher. And you were gentle with me until the very end.” 

“The very—Alastor,” a plume of smoke fell from Lucifer’s lips, scattering a smatter of ashes over Alastor’s chest. 

Oh. He hadn’t noticed immediately?

“As I said, mon cher, you were enjoying yourself,” he hummed, “isn’t this just a part of this somnophilia you’ve told me of in the past? I believe I said it was fine—” 

“Don’t redirect the conversation.” Lucifer shook his head, “Why didn’t you safe word out?” 

The change in Lucifer’s tone was palpable in the sudden heat flashing against his skin. Skin sticky with dried sweat, the sudden sauna sitting less than the length of his fingers away only served to make him shiver and seek to wiggle away. 

“You earned a fair price winning our bet. Far be it from me to tell you to stop when I wasn’t, strictly speaking, in any pain,” Alastor attempted to explain, voice hoarse. 

“Earned—fuck that. Fuck this conversation,” Lucifer said sharply, “Lay still, I have to get the sound out of your dick.” The words fell like a lash upon Alastor’s chest, digging a deep groove most unwelcome. Lucifer’s movements were sharp and choppy, yet eternally gentle as his fingers closed around his softening shaft. 

“I truly don’t understand all this anger, Lucifer,” Alastor sighed, impatient. His cock was so sensitive, it throbbed in the Devil’s grasp as smooth silicone slipped over the sensitive head. 

A stirring began deep within him as Lucifer slowly began pulling the sounding rod from its depths. He moaned, twisting on the bed as little zaps of painful overstimulation caught him from within, sizzling up his veins. 

“You’re a fool, Al. Seriously,” Lucifer sighed, rubbing slow circles against his frenulum with his thumb, “I know it’s sensitive, just bear with it.” 

“If it soothes your great, brilliant need for communication,” Alastor groaned, back arching as the final ridge pulled free of his cock, “I think I would prefer a touch-free magic cleanse tonight.” 

A small, shameful part of him longed to ask for another completion, despite knowing himself well enough Lucifer would have to hold him down for it. He watched the Devil whisper his magical cleanse over the dripping rod instead before it vanished in pale, glittering smoke. 

The bedding felt, at once, coarse against Alastor’s skin, every breath rasping the fabric against his back like an itch. Lucifer sat so very close to him, their body heat mingled perfectly, yet he could feel the way his temperature dropped. Millimetres had never felt more like oceans, and he was utterly lost in the waves.

“I can’t play like this with you if you don’t respect the etiquette that comes with it,” Lucifer stared at him, fingers snapping harshly together, “but then again, I guess that’s no skin off your back.” 

Alastor was scrubbed raw in the wake of the magic that washed over him, skin prickling and tingling uncomfortably. “You don’t mean that, Lucifer.” 

His confidence ripped from him as Lucifer’s arms disappeared into the armholes of a robe that burst into existence seamlessly. Once the sash was tied, all he could see were Lucifer’s blackened fingertips and the sliver of his neckline. 

“Don’t I?” His eyes sparkled, not with anger, but with bitter disappointment. “I suppose then, since you wanted to sleep so badly, I’ll take my leave.” 

The King moved to climb off the bed, gaze averted from him, and in that moment Alastor could have sworn he saw disgust pull at the delicate muscles in Lucifer's face. 

Sore and jelly-legged, Alastor rushed after him, panic flooding unexpectedly in his veins. His breath came out in short puffs as he grappled with Lucifer's arm, static whining loudly at the fabric between them. 

“I—” the words stopped in his throat, pressing up but no further. An apology, of sorts. One that threatened to rip him at the very seams. 

Lucifer’s eyes lifted to his, guarded behind the shadows of his brows. “Yes?” 

“I’m sorry, my inexperience makes me a challenge to shape to your liking.” It wasn’t at all what he wanted to say! Damn him.

“I never expected perfection from you, Al. I never wanted perfection. All I want is for you to put some damn trust in me, and let me guide you! Everything doesn’t have to be a fight!” Lucifer’s horns exploded from his forehead. His hands trembled at his sides, all the way up to where Alastor’s fingers had closed around his bicep. 

“I’ll do better. I’ll try harder,” Alastor gripped at him, turning him enough he could get his hands on his cheeks and press their lips together. They were promises he had no idea if he could deliver on at length, but he would give them if it meant more time. 

He would do anything. Stoop to the lowest low to keep Lucifer’s favour. 

“I don’t care how many mistakes you make, Al. Hell, I’m content to let you brat as much as you like. But rules are non-negotiable. I can’t grant you leniency until I’m convinced you understand their importance.” 

“Teach me,” he begged, claws digging into soft skin until stronger hands pried him off, “don’t make me say the words—” 

“Hey, hey, don't spiral. Just breathe for me.” Lucifer hushed at him, allowing him to hold onto his hand as tightly as he needed, uncaring of the thin rivers that spilled down to his wrist. It was all magicked away before Alastor could register much more than their scent.

 Gradually, he coaxed Lucifer up into the bed again, holding onto his slim form much like an octopus. 

His head felt weird and his body weirder still. Every uneasy thought quieted with Lucifer’s closeness, yet being chest to chest wasn’t enough by a long shot. “It’s not so easy,” he snapped, ears flicking backward. 

Another response he hadn’t intended to be spat the way it was from his lips. His lack of control should have driven any sane man away. Alastor was used to being too prickly to be enjoyable. There were easier prey to pick from all around Hell after all. 

“Of course it isn’t! You decided to go the hardest route from virgin sacrifice to being the brattiest sub that ever submitted to anyone. Nothing is ever easy with you,” Lucifer admonished with a scoff, though the sound was fond this time as he pressed his face against the curve of an ear. 

Alastor shivered, twitching at the gentle touch. 

“We can continue this conversation when you’re slightly more awake,” he continued, summoning the blankets with a come hither motion. “Sleep, Alastor.” 

“Is that a command or a threat?” He teased, unable to help himself, even as his eyes gradually slipped closed. 

“Don’t tempt me to knock you out,” Lucifer whispered into his ear, breath tickling the sensitive hairs just on the inside of the shell. 

“Oh, now I know you tease,” Alastor laughed, pressing his face into the crook of Lucifer’s abnormally warm neck. The offending robe around his King parted, allowing him room to sneak his arms around his delectable waist. 

The jazz from the radio turned to a duet of soft violins. Despite the obvious slip, Alastor was far too worn out to care. The pleased purr that rumbled through Lucifer’s chest was the last thing he heard before sleep claimed him.