Archive of Our Own ^beta

Alastor hadn't celebrated Christmas since before his death. It had never been his favourite holiday, unless, of course, one counted the capitalistic hellscape that was watching people fret about shopping for each other. Oh, how entertained he had been! 

Now in Hell, preparing for his first Christmas with the other staff of the Hazbin Hotel, he relied on good, old-fashioned observation. Helped by his shadow, he had spent the last several weeks committing detailed spywork, all for the purpose of getting all of this over with as quickly as possible. 

What few sentimentalities he still held in his heart were ever increasingly focused in one particular direction. 

A concerningly apple-shaped direction. 

Figuring out what to gift Lucifer for the holidays had been both horrifyingly difficult and disturbingly easy in the same breath, once he actually sat down with himself and evaluated where their relationship stood, and what he thought might give the little stump so much of an ego boost he’d hardly fit through any of the doors. 

Alastor brought the mug of eggnog to his lips, inhaling the scent briefly before having a sip. It was nice — in part helped by the amount of rum Husk had poured into it — and round as it warmed his throat, then his belly. 

Startled by a sense of fondness, he gazed out towards the rest of the staff; Charlie fretted with gift placements, Vaggie trailed after her like a puppy on a leash, Angel, Husk and Cherri were heaped under a blanket on the couch, looking cozy warm, Niffty and Baxter provided tonight's music with their enhanced cockroaches playing Christmas carols. 

Lucifer… sat beside Alastor in the two-seater, legs crossed, gazing wistfully out onto the scene before them. Nostalgia gleamed in his expression though he hid his smile behind his hand once Charlie looked back at them. 

The Princess looked anything but adult where she sat, brows pinched in what Alastor could only describe as confusion and disappointment. Whatever had caused her feelings this time, it was awfully fitting it snagged her daddy issues — 

“Alastor?” 

He startled at the sound of his name, a pathetic little bleat ripping from his throat against his will. “Something the matter, dear?” He asked her, forcing the ominous churn of static to quiet. 

“I don't see a gift to dad from you here,” she said, gesturing to the pile beneath the overly decorated tree that filled half the staff room. 

At some point, it looked more like a pile of Christmas atrocities than it did a tree with ornaments. If he looked too long at the glowing star on top, he'd go blind. 

“Your father never mentioned any wishes when I asked last week. Forgive me for assuming it meant he doesn't partake in such a human tradition as this.” He said, shifting slightly. 

A jarring bleat of static ripped through the room as the lace panties hugging his hips rasped against his groin just enough to shoot tingles up his spine. Getting them had been a spectacularly terrible idea, given he had to act a modicum of put-together in current company. He’d only ever felt lace against his fingers while alive, never in death, and certainly never so intimately. 

Everyone’s eyes were on him, Alastor realised as he clamped his jaw shut. Humiliation burst like a spring blossom beneath his sternum. He startled as the other end of the couch moved, the sounds of pants shifting against the rough fabric they sat on grating against his sensitive ears. 

“It’s fine, duckling,” Lucifer chirped brightly, waving a hand in their direction as he blew a raspberry into the air, “it’s wholly my fault for being too good at keeping secrets,” he tutted. 

Alastor perked up, immediately leaning into the fallen angel’s space, watching his profile with wide, unblinking eyes. His voice was laced heavily with interference as he asked, “what secrets?” 

At the small of his back, his trapped tail started wagging. The bow wrapped securely around the base of it was loud against his coat. Drat. He sat back properly, just as Lucifer tried to look behind him for the source of noise — as if Alastor needed confirmation those holy ears could hear that much. 

Lucifer flashed him a grin that was all teeth, “hardly a present if I spoil the whole thing early, is it?” 

Damn him if that didn’t make the emotion-driven little appendage he called a tail double its efforts, wiggling insistently between his back and the couch. 

“Oh, I see how it is,” he said lightly, smile tightening. Now he’d gone and done it. “I shall wait with bated breath for its deliverance.” 

Delight swirled in Lucifer’s bright, garnet eyes. Clearly, someone was right awfully pleased with themselves about finding wiggle room in their secret to put Alastor quite thoroughly on the spot. 

“You’re making something yourself?” Charlie gasped loudly, running forward on her knees to stare at her father with stars in her eyes, “that is so thoughtful!” 

It sounded like a jab. He’d have taken it as such if it came from anyone else. As it stood, their very own Princess simply wasn't capable of such underhanded tactics — not even to save her life. 

 Try as he might, he hadn’t been able to instill the need for it in her. He was certain the other fallen angel was pleased with this fact, or the jabs would be doubling in her direction as well. 

“Are you going to be doing the same, Al?” Charlie’s hand suddenly resting on his knee startled him again. Her eyes were bright, hopeful and so very close to his face it made him lean back. 

“Certainly, my dear!” He announced, resolutely ignoring the way his peripheral caught Lucifer hiding a gilded flush behind a hand, smiling brightly at Charlie. “It will be unlike anything he’s ever seen!” 

He grabbed her hand between his own, relieved to be rid of her touch as he patted her gently. It was nothing personal. Truly. 

For one, he’d never been awfully fond of people putting hands on him, regardless of who they were, for two, he was currently hiding a satin bow, and lace underwear from prying eyes. Ready to be revealed at midnight, to one person and one person only. 

That was the only person whose touch he sought today, and equally knew he wouldn’t get whilst they were in company. An agreed sentiment, to be sure. Too many questions, none of which Alastor felt very inclined to give comment to. Lucifer’s loose lips were much better suited elsewhere as well.

“You’ll have to show us! Both of you!” Charlie exclaimed — again making him question the validity of her proposed age — as she drew back, scooting toward the mountain of gifts beneath the massive tree. 

“We’ll be certain to,” Lucifer chuckled good-naturedly, giving his daughter a little wink. 

Alastor would figure out something that was satisfactory enough. If he survived the night, that was. 

~ ~ ~

The clock struck eleven and Alastor simply no longer had the nerves to sit around getting more tipsy to hide his discomforts. He rose with a small wince and a bleat of static. Again, the panties shifted against his groin, brushing over the thatch of hair that covered his pussy in a way his cotton briefs never did. 

“You youngins have a good night. Some of us can’t afford to hold back on the beauty sleep!” Alastor gave them a little finger wave as he started walking away, shivers crawling up his spine like a colony of ants. 

“It’s not even midnight,” he heard Angel complain sourly, muffled in what Alastor assumed was Husk’s fur. 

“Oh, okay!” Charlie interjected as well, “see you for breakfast tomorrow!” 

“Wouldn’t miss it!” Alastor chirped, feet almost out of the room when Lucifer rose from the couch as well — he knew, because he recognized the sound of the monarch’s annoying pants.

“Actually, I think I’ll retire too, sweetheart. Gotta continue tinkering with some gifts, after all,” he laughed, loud and boisterous. 

Was he trying to get them caught? Alastor seethed quietly, rolling his eyes.

Their voices melted into the background as his shadow lingered closer to the group of — dare he say it — friends. “Hey, Husk? D’ya think Al’s puttin’ the king in the doghouse or somethin’?” 

“Why the hell’re ya askin’ me?” Husk’s gruff reply was laced with discomfort, as though he knew the shadow lingered another step before it bounced to Alastor as he rounded the corner from the room, stepping with measured strides. 

Too long and his knees would give out, too short and it would be noticeable. 

“So, you looked beyond uncomfortable back there,” Lucifer commented idly as he caught up, holding onto the brim of his hat as though he’d been running. 

Alastor longed to drag it down over that pretty, pale face for making him suffer all of these unknown feelings. He felt sick to his stomach — in an entirely different way than his usual bouts of over-consumption would lead to. 

“I assure you, I’m fine,” Alastor said lightly, almost sagging with relief as a gold-rimmed portal opened before them. “You should be kinder to me during this special human holiday. Putting me on the spot like that.” 

Heavens above, couldn’t he just leave it alone? Alastor thought to himself as he stepped through the portal. His heart hammered beneath his ribs, pounding insistently against his sternum in a way that was most uncomfortable.

He hadn’t felt like this since he was human, before there were many means to transition, and the first stupid man he’d ever kissed immediately made a grab for his skirts, pushing closer, and closer. It had been intoxicating, and fun, until that hand had found bare skin on his inner thigh. 

The reputation of a prude followed him the rest of his life, until he landed himself in Hell, awakening to a body that almost fit. Almost, but not completely. Still, the fresh scars beneath suddenly flat pecs felt like a benediction. A bandaid on a wound for taking him away from his mother before his joys and sinister funs were over. 

Since then, he’d ducked and weaved every interaction, somehow keeping everything and everyone above the belt. A nauseating kiss here or there was survivable. If there was something to gain from it…

Then Lucifer came into his life. Small, unassuming, stupid and so much larger than life it knocked the air right out of Alastor’s lungs. Somewhere along the way, they’d become entangled with each other. 

Reluctantly helping each other out, bickering while completing tasks, fighting over the hotel decor… kissing. 

That one was a tad more recent. Oh, but Alastor hadn’t made it easy! Not by far. It had taken more than enough time to be comfortable in the presence of the magnificence that was the Devil without it setting his teeth on edge. Every interaction made him aware he was dealing with someone utterly inhuman, yet more human than he himself had ever felt. 

The intrigue had been choking, for a while. Until one night of Husk (despite all his denials to the contrary) attempting to drink the Devil under the table. 

The bar had been empty, Husk a slurring, useless mess trying to pour another drink when Lucifer stopped him with a laugh and sent him off to bed. That was when Alastor announced his presence, and a finger of rye was presented — as if he already knew. 

“You keep staring at my lips when I talk,” Lucifer had said, face brightening with his mockery-preparation, “is it cause you want to kiss me, or because you’re that blind?” 

It hadn’t necessarily been his intention to say the former, but the latter would be an outright lie. Those never sat right with Alastor. The truth hurt, and so people deserved to hear it. So, he’d agreed it was his desire to kiss the Devil. 

Despite it only being half-true, at most, at the time. Mostly due to the lack of the thought previously. And after… well, that was history, wasn’t it? 

Considering he stood in the Devil’s rooms, ready to stow in his nerves for an hour, hoping he’d be able to present his gift without fleeing back to his own rooms, burning up with absolute humiliation. 

Oh, what joy. 

 ~ ~ POV switch ~ ~ 

Alastor was behaving stranger than usual. Which was quite a feat, honestly. If Lucifer didn’t know what he knew about sinners, he’d have thought Alastor had a stomach bug, or maybe the flu. Hell, maybe even the black plague from the way he was acting. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, hanging off his hat and his coat with a flick of the wrist.

Grating bleats of static looped around Alastor as he stopped midway between the bed and the bathroom, seemingly undecided of where to go — which, wowza, no one told Lucifer the heinous, villainous and most deranged awful duck bed would be getting any sort of action today — before turning sharply and stomping toward the bathroom. 

“Everything is just peachy, sire!” Alastor threw at him without turning. The points of his ears had dropped backwards just a bit, easy enough to explain away with him just listening. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll just get ready to settle in.” 

All seven-foot-whatever of him darted into the bathroom like his ass was on fire, leaving the door ajar, light spilling from the cracks. Another strange thing. 

In the time they’d been… canoodling, as it so happened he was blessed enough to be allowed to call it in his own mind, Alastor usually closed the door. Even snapping the lock for good fuck-off measure.

Today, the door was ajar, as stated, yet Alastor was acting like he’d been touched by live wire. Something was afoot and for once, Lucifer wanted to avoid getting it on his foot. 

He’d done more than enough of that lately, good grief. Especially if there were any kinds of wires involved. Live or not. 

No thanks. 

Sighing, Lucifer walked over to one of the unoccupied corners, staring at the small mountain of ducks for a second, before immediately banishing them to the other side of the room with a disastrously loud cacophony of startled quacks — and a sharp bleat from the bathroom. 

“Sorry!” He called over his shoulder as he flexed his arms, sleeves rolling up on their own as he stared at the bared spot. 

He knew exactly what would look good here. 

Red bricks and mortar popped into existence, melting into place as a picture appeared in Lucifer’s mind. The chimney built itself, complete with every necessary step until it was just the mantelpiece left. Greek-style columns supported the small shelf above the fireplace itself, the swirls at the top of it hiding antlers and a snake. On the broad plane below, Lucifer carved — with the help of his magic — tree branches that looked like antlers, with an ouroboros in the middle. 

It was quite apt, if he had to say so himself. Which he just did. Someone had to praise his handiwork, and since the reluctant world champion of shittiest compliments had sequestered himself in the bathroom, Lucifer had to do it himself. 

The lights dimmed as a snap of charred hands lit the dried logs of hickory from the bottom, helped by some home-brewed firestarters infused with herbs and scents he knew Alastor liked to surround himself with. 

Dried cypress blooms, sandalwood, old leather and rosemary. 

Across the fireplace mantel in a delicate little loop, was a long, twisted balsam fir garland. The budding heat of the fire made the scents dance around the room, filling Lucifer’s olfactory senses with every breath. 

It was perfect. 

The soft crackle of static rising to a slow whine had Lucifer turning on his heel, smiling wide as he expected to see Alastor, finding nothing but air. However, the dark mahogany cathedral radio on his nightstand had lit up, the lights flickering as the static tuned. 

Was Alastor going to play music for him? He wondered as he bounded over on quick feet, shoes clacking softly against the floors. He waited for several seconds, yet nothing happened. 

Not until a soft, yet unmistakably clear sigh rang out, followed by, “are you coming, or not?” 

Alastor was waiting for him? 

Blinking, Lucifer glanced towards the ajar door, hearing nothing from within. Would it not have been equally easy to just appear in the doorway? “I can come if you want me to?”  

Not for the first time in his existence did Lucifer feel like something significant had flown right over his head without his knowledge. A sharp screech of static rang out, feedback squealing as it came from both the radio and inside the bathroom. Lucifer just narrowly avoided having to cover his ears from the sound. 

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t mean it,” Alastor hissed from the other side, laced so heavily with static it was almost hard to make out the words, “do or don’t. It doesn’t matter.” 

Static crackled for a couple of seconds, then it fell silent, lights flickering once, twice, before turning off. 

This was an impossible mood to figure out. Lucifer ran a hand over his face before scratching at his cheek. “Alastor, is this about the secret gift?” 

A single pulse of green, so quick he would have missed it if he’d blinked, flashed beneath the door, then it was still again. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Alastor said inside the bathroom, voice carrying a small echo, although otherwise free of static, “nothing to worry about.” 

As the words carried over, Alastor’s shadow sprang free from a corner, throwing itself in a loop on the wall before landing in one of the shadows by the door, grinning at Lucifer. Its shadowy tail wagged with its entire backside, as if teasing him. 

“Huh?” he said softly, tilting his head. He tried to approach to get a better look, but the shadow jumped away, skittish and laughing in crackles. 

Still, Lucifer caught a glimpse as it wiggled its backside again; two little loops above, two long strings hanging down. 

That was a bow tied prettily around the sweet appendage. 

Lucifer’s face flushed as he only just managed to avoid getting the door smacked in his face as Alastor emerged at last. The silly rudolph-printed pyjamas looked adorable on him. Dark red, just the way he liked, every little rudolph outlined with green to make sure his glowing nose wasn’t forgotten. 

The comical (matching) flush on his face couldn’t have been from the clothing though — considering he’d been made to wear them every day for all of the season for breakfast with the staff. 

Tense, uncomfortable silence reigned between them as they looked at each other. Lucifer blurted the first thing that came to mind, even if he knew it was as false as a wrongful prophet of god, “You gotta stop spiking the eggnog if it gets you this tipsy, Bambi.” 

Alastor's brows tensed, dipping down low over his nose as his eyes narrowed. “I'm not drunk,” he hissed, static hugging every vowel. 

“Okay, so then what’s–” Lucifer almost bit off his tongue as Alastor knocked into his shoulder in an effort to brush past him. “What are you doing?” He derailed himself, staring at the sinner. 

The sinner, who grabbed fistfulls of the sheets and yanked them clean off the bed, immediately wrapping them over his shoulders before Lucifer even had a chance to inspect his backside. 

He could just have asked… but Alastor's mood was anything but talkative at the moment. Actually, it looked more like Lucifer might end up losing a couple of fingers and a leg if he tried anything at the moment. 

“What does it look like I'm doing?” Alastor grumbled, static screeching as his ears flicked back, flattening atop his head, “we said we would stay up until midnight.” 

“Yeah… to exchange gifts early,” he replied with a small cough. Lucifer thought back to how he'd gotten Alastor's shadow to bring him the broken staff, so he could pick it apart in design and signature in order to craft him a new one. 

No small feat, so maybe the little happy wiggle on the wall was just its way of saying thank you — his gaze returned to Alastor's form in front of the fireplace. 

“Precisely, so excuse me for wishing to look at something that isn't your hideous bed,” Alastor bitched, though the undercurrent of malice and static was considerably heavier than usual. 

Lucifer swallowed thickly as he snapped his day clothes back into his closet, trading them for his own santa-duck printed pjs. 

“Come on, you don't have to be that mean about it. It's got a Santa hat now!” Lucifer laughed as he took a seat beside him.

Alastor’s head didn't turn, he only burrowed deeper into the duck printed duvet with a staticky growl. “I can be as mean as I want.” 

“Of course you can, Bambi,” Lucifer kept his voice light and humorous as he crept even closer, all but snuggling up to the mass of fabric covered dun that was Alastor. 

There was no use antagonising him any further when he was saltier than licorice. Not a problem for crafty devils, however! 

“I detest that nickname and you know it,” the sinner mumbled into the duvet, eyes at last glancing to the side. 

Gotcha, Lucifer thought as he inched a hand up what felt like Alastor's leg, finger-walking to an edge and giving it a little tug. “I don't know… your little bleats when I whisper it against your neck kind of say otherwise.” 

Colour rose high on Alastor’s cheeks, even as he slapped Lucifer's hand away from the duvet, static hissing like an angry cat. “Your imagination is running away from you.” 

“Mhm, it sure is,” Lucifer agreed again, pouting as he shook out his hand, “that’s not very nice. We haven’t established a safeword.” 

Ah, fuck. Too far.

Alastor’s ears flicked down, then pinned back sharply. Loud hisses of static coiled around them, knocking the vintage radio on the nightstand over and onto the floor as the sound cut with a loud pop moments later. 

“Keep pushing and you’ll never need one again,” Alastor snarled at him under the edge of the duvet, sinking down until only his eyes were above it. Sparkling as they reflected the fire before them. 

Lucifer was at a loss. Where there were usually barbs and vitriol, there was only the vague feeling that he was dealing with a threatened animal. Not that he thought the agitated sinner would in any way appreciate the analogy, regardless of how true it was.

“Okay, fun’s over,” he announced, pulling his legs up under him to sit on his knees, facing Alastor with all the intent of a slightly intense therapist about to break all laws of conduct, “did you eat a slightly-too-rancid sinner or did one of Niffty and Baxter’s mutated bugs make a home in your ass?” 

Static skipped like a record about to be mangled beyond repair. Alastor snapped his head toward him with an audible crack. “What did I just tell you?” 

“Nothing we’re getting anywhere with,” he bitched back, arching a brow. Fingers carefully placed on his thighs, tense to avoid drumming impatiently.

 Alastor’s smile tensed, ears so flat on his head they were practically gone. His shoulders were all the way up under his jaw. Duvet or not, that was very easy to spot. It was a surprise he hadn’t melted out of the room yet. 

“I don’t recall inviting you to stick your face into my business — and that is not an invitation to ask!” his voice had taken on a shrill note, something like desperation rolling off of him in waves. 

Alastor knew threats didn’t work on Lucifer, alas the next best thing was to seem so desperate to avoid a topic he usually backed off in fear of ruining the tentative little thing they had going on. 

Maybe he would have given in to the clever little spot of manipulation any other day of the year, but this was different. Never in their whole year unwillingly to semi-willingly in each other’s presence had he seen Alastor like this. He’d seen a lot of sides to Alastor lately he hadn’t before. 

So maybe he was a touch too stubborn to let his concerns be squashed that easily. Or too prideful. 

“Oh, okay, I see how it is!” Lucifer laughed loudly, noting with delight how static churned with dissent. He leaned up against Alastor’s shoulder, resting his chin on his duvet-covered form. 

His tail sprang free from his back slowly, slithering like a snake along the couch, hiding in the loops of static. With ease, he wriggled the spade-shaped tip beneath the edge of his duvet-covered situationship partner, seeking blindly as it patted forward. 

“Are you hiding my gift on your body?” he asked, giving Alastor a salacious eye-brow wiggle that had once even made the mightiest of people fall victim to his ruse. 

Alastor yelped, ears puffing out along with his hair as he jumped halfway out of the duvet shield. Alarm shone in his eyes, and it had nothing to do with the ticking dials that had overtaken his red irises. “Will you leave me alone!” 

The shout was to be expected, but the claws settling on Lucifer’s pyjamas were a surprise — he let out his own yell as he was unceremoniously dumped from the loveseat and onto the ground before the fireplace. 

“You can leave any time you want!” Lucifer shouted back, yanking on a retreating arm to yank the sinner down atop him — where he landed without catching himself, solid weight dropping onto Lucifer’s chest even as he heard the loud thump of his forehead hit the ground. “Oh shit, are you okay?” 

Alastor’s head popped up with a gasp, eyes stuck with one dial and one regular for a couple of blinks. The duvet had pooled halfway off him as he sat his weight back, landing his behind solidly… right… atop… Lucifer’s crotch. 

Feedback squealed as that pretty face erupted with colour, making it nearly the shade of his hair. “You filthy —” 

“I’m not hard, you belligerent asshole!” Lucifer poked a hand into his side, getting him off balance enough to tackle the sinner to the ground. “I’m not just smooth as a fucking doll right now.” 

“And why not? What exactly do you think the idea here is?” Alastor snarled at him, snapping his jaws while his static growled as well as it could. His face was still beet red, ears flicked back as they struggled on the floor in front of the fire. 

Lucifer dodged several hits before he managed to get a hold of both wrists, pinning them on either side of the sinner’s head. Without thinking, he drove his hips down over Alastor’s, seeking to pin him to the floor as his tail wrapped around a twitching hoof. 

“Not everything revolves around you,” he panted, impressed with the effort that pushed against him, trying to get him off. 

He’d have thought Alastor would see the game lost, but no can do. He truly was an unstoppable force. He wiggled and tugged until he was purple in the face, straining in an attempt to get free. All it ended up resulting in was the undeniable push of their hips coming together. Repeatedly. 

“Unhand me, this instant!” he said, shooting up several octaves.

Lucifer’s gaze flickered up as he noticed a shape on the wall — Alastor’s shadow was there, shaking its head vehemently and putting its hands over its ears. Well, that was weird. Alastor was really trying his darndest to buck him off at the moment, hitting the backs of his thighs with sharp dew claws. 

“I will, if you calm the fuck down, Al.” Lucifer strained — not at Alastor’s strength — trying to flex his hips away so he wouldn’t feel the evidence that definitely ruined his previous statement of not being hard. 

A soft bleat and an immediate cease in struggle had him suspecting he’d lost. 

Alastor looked up at him, eyes wide and pupils blown wide as saucers. His ears quivered as they flicked forward, lowered at the sides in a show of submission Lucifer hadn’t seen safe for one time between them. The sinner’s chest heaved like he’d just finished a marathon. 

“My…” he started to say, voice dropping too low, too heavy with interference for Lucifer to catch the warble for a second, “is the gift.” 

“You’re the gift?” Lucifer guffawed, “of course that was your plan all along.” 

Alastor’s answering growl was laced with feedback, ears inching backwards again. There was a shuffle in the room, then the shadow bounded over with the radio, static crackling in the glowing front of it until a song rang out. 

“What?” Lucifer craned his head up to look at it, head tilting as an unfamiliar song began playing, eventually, he realized it was The Smith’s - How soon is now?. 

Squealing tuning drowned the song out as the stations changed. Clearly Alastor was rooting through his internal catalogue. 

Within moments, a song Lucifer had heard before, specifically played somewhat mockingly whenever his daughter and Vaggie seemed too cosy in public, rang out. The Shirells - Will you love me tomorrow.

Lucifer’s jaw relaxed, lips falling open just barely as he stared at the radio. Was Alastor telling him… what he thought he was? 

No. Not a chance. Couldn’t be. 

“Oh, fine! You want to be properly vulgar?” Alastor snarled beneath him, head turning away as the radio tuned with a squeal once more. His eyes closed tightly, as though it was embarrassing to have the song within his register. 

The song that rang out was disturbingly familiar… from his days of partying with Ozzie and Lilith at the Lust ring before she left. Prince - Head. 

“How do you even know that song?” Lucifer asked, his own cheeks tinting with a gilded touch. 

“Never you mind that! Do you understand what I am trying to tell you?” Alastor stared intently at him, fingers twitching slightly. Ah, yeah, there was still some fight or flight left in his system. 

“Uh, do you even know what any of these songs are about?” Lucifer cocked his head, yelping as the shadow smacked him upside the head. “Ouch!” 

“I’m not illiterate,” Alastor scowled, static droning quietly underneath his words. “But seeing as you are, I will spell it out for you; My gift to you is my hymen.” 

Lucifer was, if possible, even more puzzled than before. Ha, there was simply no way. “I don’t know how your sex ed was at the turn of the century when you were little, Al, but that’s just a myth, you do know that? I mean, if you ever rode a horse, or rode a bike, poof! Gone! In theory, anyway. It’s not like, a wholly separate organ clogging up your vagina like a shield, waiting to be broken by a dick, yeah? I mean, if it was, how the heck would you explain every one of your periods in life? They do come out of that hole, not your —” 

“Enough!” Alastor yanked his hands free, shoving both of them over Lucifer’s eyes. He could feel every minute tremble in them. “I’m asking you to pop my cherry.”

“Cherries don’t pop, Alastor. They’re soft fruits with a solid core —” Lucifer broke off with a yelp as claws bit into the sides of his head. “That hurts, you know!”

“Deflower me, you absolute waste of power!” Alastor nudged his hips forward, dew claw biting harshly into Lucifer’s thighs. 

“Do I look like a bee whose job is to pollinate flowers?” He grunted, smacking at Alastor’s thigh to get him to ease up. 

The last thing he needed was for the sinner to get up in his face about the way he was decidedly not soft anymore after their tussle. 

No, sir, his dick was pressing insistently against the crotch seam of the false fly of his pyjama pants, begging and throbbing to be freed. 

Too fucking bad for it that this particular pie was so far off the menu it wasn’t even on the street of restaurants. 

“You look like a fool who needs hearing aids,” Alastor snapped, “My gift to you is my virginity!” 

Before the shock of the words had even settled, Lucifer was allowed his vision back, only to be hit square in the forehead by a rubber duck that released a quick little quack! upon hitting him. It didn’t particularly hurt, but he still reeled back with a yelp, horns breaking free of his forehead by just a handful of centimetres. 

“I want you to fuck me, how’s that for obvious?” Alastor asked, voice dripping with static and sarcasm. One of his arms was extended over his head, a new duck ready to chuck at him again. 

Lucifer blinked, stunned to silence as the words registered, overriding every earlier explanation that could somehow make sense of what bug had burrowed in the matter of Alastor’s brain and made him spew nonsense. 

Now he knew exactly how serious it had been all along, and damn if that didn’t shoot a delighted thrill right down to his dick immediately. Arousal doubled, tripled, in his veins at the new knowledge that it was wanted, and not just his own twisted fantasies of something forever out of reach — which he had been fine with, thank you very much! 

If all Alastor ever wanted to do was bicker, fight and make out he was jolly fucking blessed with that. He had a left hand, and the sky was the limit on conjured toys if he needed more. 

These days, hell, he’d been more than satisfied just thinking about the very sinner pinned right beneath his weight, just thinking of the apparently untouched cunt pressed right up against his erection. 

He was going to lose his mind. 

A small, confused bleat caught his attention, ripping him back to the present as Alastor’s ears pressed backwards again, and his hands shoved at his chest. “Get off me.” 

“Wha — no, no, wait,” Lucifer scrambled for his hands, lifting his palms to press little, dry, kisses to them. Just brief contact, nothing nasty. “I don’t want you to do this rashly.” 

It wasn’t something one should put on a pedestal, or give away too lightly. 

Alastor’s static soured, warbling around them. “What makes you think it is?” 

At least he didn’t ask Lucifer to get away again, or melt clean into the shadows. Victory! 

“I’m not saying it is, I just want you to have made the offer because you want to, and not because, well, I don’t know, if someone got to you with a comment, or something. I mean, you’ve been happy with what we’ve had thus far?” 

One blink. Two. Three. 

Oh, well, now that was unfortunate.

Lucifer’s insides twisted into knots. “What’s been missing?” 

~ ~ ~ POV SWITCH ~ ~ ~ 

What had been missing? 

Alastor truthfully wasn’t sure why he was the one hesitating when faced with such an outright, honest question. His arousal was slow to build and too fickle to rely on. 

What few things had spurred him on in life, and in his younger days in hell lasted mere minutes before he grew bored. 

Even Lucifer, in the beginning, had bored him after a while, making him poke and prod and up the ante every time it dimmed, just to see what made his spine light up with sparks. 

He’d thought, for a time, that all was solved when they crashed together the first time, Lucifer licking into his mouth with hellfire making his tongue burning hot against the roof of his mouth. 

The moment those small, impossibly strong hands had gone up under his coat, only a chill remained. He’d remained lip locked with him for several minutes past his liking at that point, feeling increasingly uneasy with the mingled saliva dripping down his chin. 

Still, when the spark returned, he’d fallen into him again. And again. And again. And again. 

One time in particular, mere days before he’d gone and gotten himself captured by Vox, they’d landed on one of the couches in the foyer, biting at each other’s lips with a desperation that made his skin tingle just thinking about it. 

He’d pinned Lucifer beneath himself, hands resting at his sides as their mouths worked frantically — until those fingers had gripped onto the appendage he’d unfortunately been cursed with since his fall from humanity. Instinctively, he’d rutted forward against Lucifer’s trousers like a beast, electricity sizzling all over his body, hooves to ears. 

A most mysterious feeling had erupted then, forcing him to release the most embarrassing noise he’d ever heard expelled from himself before he’d sagged boneless against the monarch, panting wildly against his shoulder. 

Lucifer had asked him something then, but he couldn’t remember what it was. All he could remember was that his underwear was sticky enough by dinnertime he had to change them. Everything in his nether region was sticky, hairs clumped together and painful to pry apart. 

There wasn’t a chance in hell he was ever mentioning to anyone, and any other time Lucifer went to grab for his tail, Alastor had smacked him away, chest growing tense at the memory. Not discomfort, not anticipation, but some secret third thing that set his teeth on edge. 

Best to avoid it. 

After that, his dreams had changed, his nose tickled when Lucifer walked past him, as if he could suddenly smell an extra layer to the fool. It was annoying him every second of every day. Especially when Lucifer got on his nerves and the most efficient medicine was slamming him into a wall by the throat and kissing the words out of his mouth. 

Alastor hadn’t felt many erections against his person, but the few he had felt had been nothing special, just a disgusting reaction he could use against them until they broke beneath him. It allowed him power over them in a way they didn’t seem aware of. 

Yet, it wasn’t the same with Lucifer. 

What little libido he had, seemed to sing around the Devil, and wasn’t that perfect! The little temptation even working his carnal sins so far into Alastor’s hindbrain it was robbing him of his usual rationale. 

The state of both of them the last couple of months hadn’t been great. It was terrible, actually. Lucifer spent a shocking amount of time recovering from the ordeal, likening himself to a fucked out dick, or something of the sort. Alastor tried to tune it out, as he had tried to tune out his own wound and how severely it sapped him for strength.

Still, just the last few weeks, things had changed. They’d grown closer than expected since the last big battle. Changing each other’s bandages after catching each other in the kitchen almost keeling over from exhaustion.

Playfighting and kissing were traded for wound dressing, ointments and bonding over vinyl records. It was… strange. 

Somewhere along the way, Alastor felt himself shift, drawing closer without bickering, his shadow lingering near the small King, practically making heart eyes. 

It didn’t do that, he didn’t feel that. 

At least, he never had before. So, if he was feeling it now, that could only mean one pesky thing, and he was not going to name that feeling even if he was held under threat of death. Not a chance. He was the Radio Demon. 

Never again would he be another’s pet to play around with. 

Inhaling through a static cloud, Alastor lowered his gaze to Lucifer’s. “It’s my choice to give it,” he told the king, “if you want me, that is. Far be it from me to attempt making you do something.” 

He hated how nervous he sounded. Maybe he should have had another eggnog, or just a shot of rye before doing this. 

“Oh, you’ve nothing to worry about there,” Lucifer chuckled softly, shooting him a toothy grin as a strand of blonde hair fell over his eyes. One of their joint hands disappeared down between their bodies. 

Alastor startled, hissing around a bleat as his palm was pressed right up against Lucifer’s hard penis, hidden just behind the thin fabric of his pyjama pants. His tail began wagging as he worked his fingers around the outline of it, intrigued despite himself, the bow tugging gently at sensitive hairs. 

Was this considered a nice one? Size wise? Alastor had no idea, but judging from the way Lucifer’s head fell down with a raspy moan, hips stuttering forward, it had to feel good at least. 

“Okay, so I’m going to come if you keep doing that,” Lucifer panted as shivers visibly ran through his frame. He pulled Alastor’s hand gently away, giving it a little kiss as he brought it up between them again. “This should be about you.” 

“Why?” Alastor asked, scowling even as he knew all too well how he’d prepared to be ogled for the duration of this. “What else is there to do but undress and —” he made a crude gesture with their locked hands. 

Lucifer’s eyes boggled, his cock pressing against Alastor’s clothed cunt with every bubble of laughter that pressed from him. “That has no right to be that funny,” he cackled.

Oh, yes, very funny, Alastor sighed to himself as he watched the king, staring intently at the single bead of sweat that trickled down the side of his face before hooking toward the edge of his jaw. 

He wanted to lick it.

“Well, why don’t you tell me how these proceedings are supposed to go instead of laughing at me? I can’t see why either of the first women wanted to bed you if this is how you treated the gifts of their bodies.” He leaned up, flicking his tongue out against flawless, pale skin, lapping up the little salty drop there. 

The taste of a blistering summer’s day exploded across his senses, as well as an apple orchard in full bloom. Most certainly worth it.

“Hey, I wasn’t laughing at you,” Lucifer said kindly. “I was looking at the gesture you made.” 

The words were spoken with such soft fondness that Alastor longed to melt into the shadows to get away from the way his cheeks betrayed him immediately. Lucifer had a way of speaking that could both grate his nerves into shredded, thin strips, and thoroughly made it clear why both the first women had wanted him to begin with. Soft spoken yet with that hard undercurrent that told him not to press further on perpetrating lies about his person. 

If this was one of Niffty’s horrible smutty books, he knew exactly what he’d be and that should have scared him more than it did. 

“Well?” he questioned, not deigning the half-apology with any sort of response. 

“Oh, right,” Lucifer licked his lips, pronged tongue vibrating gently in the air as the soft skin glistened. “Just follow me, and tell me if anything feels wrong, or bad, hm?” 

“Sure,” Alastor agreed, locking his arms up over Lucifer’s shoulders. It sounded simple enough. 

Lucifer dipped his head down, slotting their lips together sweetly. It was familiar by now — the way Lucifer’s mouth moved against his own. Whatever tension had begun to bleed into his spine evaporated slowly. 

The touch of that pronged tongue against his lip wasn’t entirely unfamiliar either. Not necessarily his favourite preceding in all of this, but he supposed if it was a common step, then he’d suffer the slippery, wet appendage a little longer. 

A soft sound pressed up from Lucifer’s throat as Alastor licked into his mouth, claws pulling at his top until it was just about bunched up at the top of his spine. 

“Okay, okay, I got it,” Lucifer laughed softly against their lips before sitting up to chuck it off, revealing his bare, blemish-free chest. “Now you,” he said, slit pupils blown round as dinner plates. 

Alastor flicked it off before those hands had a chance to start probing too long. His own torso was littered with scars, some from his years in hell, some from his years on earth, permanent little and big marks that always seemed to follow him around. 

The only ones he carried immense pride in were the mimicked antlers beneath the gentle curve of his pecs, where he’d in life been cursed with small, perky breasts. Thankfully, Lucifer beelined for those, black thumbs tracing over the tines. 

“You’re gorgeous,” he said, biting his lip to muffle the curse that followed. The heat of his cock resting against Alastor’s cunt throbbed, alerting him to how hard it could twitch. 

Alastor preened with pride, smirking up at the king through his lashes — until those warm hands stroked down to his waist, and hooked into the hem of his pyjama bottoms. His static squealed, rattling through the radio the shadow had left on the fireplace mantle. 

“What’s wrong?” Lucifer said as his head popped up. A single worried crease rested between his brows, pretty and oh, so sweet. 

“I may have a surprise,” Alastor mumbled, pushing Lucifer back enough to shimmy quickly out of the long pants, drawing both legs up to get out of them properly. 

Lucifer’s gaze surged down to watch the reveal of his skin, the white, completely lace panties hugging his waist and pressing gently against his cunt leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination between the hand-woven gold patterns.

“Oh, you got — you — these are my colours to you?” Lucifer’s brows sprang high as he gaped like a fish, unable to settle his gaze between Alastor’s crotch or his face. 

“Aren’t they?” Alastor huffed, static pressing against his voice, “red is my colour,” he stated, although it was utterly embarrassing the way Lucifer hid a smile by sinking his teeth into his lip, a single finger almost brushing over the thatch of coarse fur that covered him at the apex. “Wait.” 

Lucifer’s hand pulled away immediately, a whispered ‘sorry’ permeating the air even though his lips had barely even moved. Alastor shivered, a little spark shooting down his spine. It was sweet, the way Lucifer (for now) was willing to defect to his wishes. 

“I have another surprise,” he told the king, shifting around against the ground as he turned over. His legs were spread on either side of Lucifer’s thighs, stretching embarrassingly wide as he arched up. 

The floor was cold where his body hadn’t yet warmed it, making his hardened nipples prickle with something like pleasure. His tail wagged slowly over the scant curves of his ass, and only increased tempo as he raised it slowly, revealing the white flag underneath, and the way the bow was most definitely real where it was tied securely around the base. 

“Oh, Gods,” Lucifer whimpered, seemingly unaware he blasphemed thoroughly. “Look at you.” 

Alastor would really rather never do that again after this. He hid his face in his arms as Lucifer’s hands roamed his backside, kneading the skin lightly. 

Soft lips brushing the hem of the panties had static squealing with surprise. His tail wagged frantically, hitting something solid that turned out to be Lucifer’s face. The kisses came closer, and closer to the middle of his lower back. 

He’d have expected Lucifer to ask him for permission to proceed, or anything of the sort, instead, he only got the warning of slowly migrating hands until three fingers rubbed slowly over the lace covering his cunt. 

A pathetic whine void of a filter pressed up from his throat, face heating up intensely as those fingers stroked back and forth, back and forth. The slick sound that rose with the motion was quite shocking. 

“Fuck, you’re dripping through the lace, Alastor,” Lucifer panted against his lower back, teeth scraping just barely against the sensitive spot where his tail met his back. 

Stars exploded behind his eyes at the dual sensation, taking his innards to new, twisting heights. Alastor was dimly aware of static squealing several layers of sound into the room as his back bowed, tension popping in his body. 

He twitched against Lucifer’s stroking fingers, tail propelling as it beat the side of Lucifer’s face. 

“What is that,” he groaned helplessly into the floor as Lucifer continued the relentless assault on his senses. 

“Alastor… you just came.” He sounded shaky, “you didn't know that's what it was?” 

Alastor folded his ears back gently, releasing a staticky grumble. “What do you want me to say? Not all of us are so well versed in these things.” 

It was embarrassing enough he was sprawled on the floor with his ass up for anyone, everyone and God to see. The last thing he needed was to be reminded of how new all this was. 

“Was it your first?” the nincompoop he somehow found himself enamoured by asked, voice taking on more of a growl as he nuzzled into the side of his wagging tail. He almost sounded delighted at the prospect. 

A preening cock strutting around — too bad Alastor had one last little ammunition to fire, and Lucifer was simply right in his crosshairs. 

“Oh, you would love that, wouldn’t you,” he laughed as he shoved at Lucifer with a hoof, delighting in the breathy ‘oof’ that pushed out from him as he landed back on his ass. “I’m terribly sorry to disappoint you.” 

There was no need for his dirty laundry to hang out, all for Lucifer’s satisfaction. No, sir. He was more than thoroughly cooked through with humiliation. Any more and he might have to escape through the shadows and leave his shadows in his place. 

He rolled himself over with far more grace than he thought this long, silly body possessed — or maybe Lucifer truly was the lowest of simpletons. Alastor felt not unlike prey caught by the mighty predator as he caught Lucifer’s gaze, however. 

“It’s not a disappointment at all,” Lucifer boasted, a smirk spreading across his lips. His hand trailed up the underside of Alastor’s leg, running slowly until he got to the knee, where he lifted the leg aside with ease. “Every first after this will be mine to give you.” 

A loud squeal of static erupted around the room. Alastor grabbed the nearest duck, chucking it in the king’s direction as his face flamed. “Have you no shame!” 

“Absolutely not when it comes to you,” he purred as he crawled over Alastor again, pressing his legs wide around the gentle width of his hips. His forked tongue flicked out of his mouth, vibrating in the air before retreating. 

“Well, get on with it, then.” Alastor crossed his arms, feeling his lower lip push outward — it was not a pout! On his life, under the threat of death, he would forever deny Lucifer had made him pout. 

Lucifer was staring at him, certainly, but his gaze was utterly transfixed at whatever appeal he found in the panties Alastor had purchased — however loosely in definition what he’d done was. 

“It’s such a shame to take these off already though,” Lucifer lamented, sighing as he traced the leg holes on either side from the top of Alastor’s hip and all the way down on either side of his pussy. 

“You can keep them for all I care!” Alastor seethed, biting back a staticky whine at the tiny bolt that shot up his spine. “They are most uncomfortable to wear.” 

“I’ll wash them and give them back,” Lucifer winked as he hooked his index fingers into the waistband and started tugging. “Lift your hips a little.” 

Alastor felt hot all over as the lace dragged against his tail, sending sparks up his back that all settled in the pit of his stomach, right above his pubic bone. Before long, the panties had revealed all of him, hanging just off one of his legs as Lucifer’s attention shifted, staring at his prize. 

What on hell’s scorched earth could be so fascinating about a vagina? It was hardly the first one Lucifer had seen. Gritting his teeth, Alastor just barely kept from covering himself — secretly wishing Lucifer had simply tore a hole in them to fuck him through. 

“What?” he snapped, antlers creaking and branching out into tines atop his head, “does my cunt not compare to your wife’s, or Eve’s?” 

It was — perhaps — a tad unfair of him to bring up both of them in the same breath, yet he could not deny the flash of heat erupting low in his belly as Lucifer’s eyes inverted, his horns breaking free and rising tall enough for the bulb of hellfire to ignite between them. 

He couldn’t tell if the anger was at their names, or offence on Alastor’s behalf. It was hard to tell when Lucifer reeled himself back in by the scruff of his neck, exhaling a dark plume of smoke as his hair puffed up like an angry cat’s tail. 

“Okay, at this point I have to ask,” Lucifer said as he sat back, plucking the ruined lace panties from Alastor’s hoof to twirl them around a finger, “are you picking a fight because you’re embarrassed and you’re trying to get me to pound you like we’ve done this before, or are you genuinely disinterested this being a pleasant experience for you?” 

“Is there a right and wrong answer to this?” Alastor quipped, doing his best not to ruin the mood, since they’d already gotten this far — perhaps he could somehow just play the role Lucifer might want. He could be submissive and sweet, right? 

“Not necessarily,” Lucifer said, arching a brow at the sad warble of static slipping free from Alastor against his will, “but I do have a preference, if I’m allowed to say that without you biting my head off for it.” 

“Clever! Make me seem like the unreasonable party.” Alastor rolled his eyes with a scoff. Well, so much for that role. It couldn’t be helped, really. If there was one thing he would not stand for, it was being insulted. 

“Your words, not mine,” Lucifer retaliated with a shrug. “So, rough it is then?” He asked, voice strangely flat — as though he was simply doing Alastor a favour. 

A simple, emotionless, transaction between two barely friendly acquaintances who kissed sometimes. Alastor’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “If that pleases you, sire.” 

The king looked at him, clearly having noticed how badly his voice shook. He said nothing about it, though. 

He simply snapped the band of his pyjama bottoms under his dick without even letting Alastor see it as he leaned forward. Alastor’s eyes clenched involuntarily, shoulders hunching up toward his head as he waited for the pain of the first breach. He waited for the copper tang to stink up the air around them, saturated with the smell of Alastor’s nethers. 

The girls he’d unfortunately had to keep company whilst alive all spoke of how it got better, that it was just the first moments that were steeped in agony. It would be nothing new — pain was nothing new to Alastor. At least this wouldn’t leave any visible scars. 

“You’re crazy if you think I can do it while you’re looking that miserable,” Lucifer gritted out between clenched teeth, breath fanning hot air across Alastor’s face, pulling away before their sexes could touch in any meaningful way.

“I didn’t think the king of hell could be so sentimental toward a simple sinner like me!” Alastor laughed, boisterous, loud and steeped so deep in static it hardly was his own throat making the foul sound. He felt as hollow as a pumpkin on samhain. 

“You never even stopped to consider what my gift to you could be, did you?” Lucifer said, sadness coating every word as he sat back completely. He put his charcoal black arms on his duck-printed knees, utterly defeated. 

“Don’t be daft,” Alastor scoffed, closing his legs slowly as the heat from the fireplace began waning across his body — nude and unwanted on the floor. An unfamiliar coldness seeped through his muscles from the marrow. “It’s another duck, is it not?” 

Lucifer’s head snapped up, a mostly translucent visage of his wings erupting from his back to coil around him. His eyes had inverted, blazing their yellow brightness at him. Alastor was immediately struck with a punch to the gut that he’d seen a painting eerily like this in the past. The same harrowing anger, the same blazing eyes, the wings. All of it. Sans the duck print, of course. 

“Is that all you see me as? The devil who makes ducks instead of tending to his duties?” 

Opening his mouth to speak, Alastor was startled when no quip followed. In fact, not so much as a single sound followed, even if plenty of less favourable and downright mean statements flowed about in his noggin. 

“Well, let me tell you what I do; I make ducks to try to staunch the black hole void in my chest that never heals. Charlie reminds me of home, so it’s hard, but I try. For her, I try to be the best I can be.” 

Alastor winced; it really wasn’t very interesting to hear Lucifer lament about his child while they had been about to fornicate — and outside of wedlock atop all sins! 

“I don’t feel the pain that much when I spend time with you,” Lucifer tacked on, voice growing quieter, “sure, you piss me off and get on my last nerve, but you’re also so incredibl —” 

Oh no. 

“Stop talking.” Alastor sat up, reaching for him by the shoulders, resolutely ignoring the king’s yelp of pain. “Don’t say it.” 

“Huh? Why?” Lucifer frowned, trying to sit back up and gain some distance. “I’m trying to —”

“Stop it,” Alastor hissed, ears folding to the sides of his head as his cheeks erupted with colour. A strange feeling twisted in his innards — not the spark he chased on occasion, but something deeper that seemed to settle right there in the crux of his hips before it spread slowly up to his chest. It felt like hell-ants had grown wings and were flying about in there, biting and sticking him until he was trembling in the king’s arms. 

They weren’t like that with each other. Lucifer wasn’t another of him, growing infatuated and obsessed with him one minute, then demanding he change the next. He refused to hear it. 

“Alastor,” Lucifer said quietly. 

Warm fingers tilted his chin up, forcing their gazes to meet. “I’m not going to demand anything in return from you — though, seeing as you were gifting me your virginity like this, all dressed up and delectable…” he trailed off, lips quirking up into a lopsided grin. “We’re already basically there.” 

“I am not your next wife!” Alastor said, disgusted at himself for even entertaining the thought. The briefest of images of his own hand, adorned with a band made him want to scream.

Lucifer puffed a laugh against his cheek, pressing his lips there in a soft caress. “Of course not. If we ever got that serious, you’d obviously be my husband.” 

Alastor could hardly believe his ears as those lips trailed to his, pressing once against them before that forked tongue licked into his mouth, tracing the sharp spikes of his teeth. “That was hardly the point —” 

“You really gonna tell me half the anxiety isn’t that you inadvertently started thinking I’d be treating you like a woman just because of this pretty thing?” Lucifer hummed against his lips, continuing to press against him even if he wasn’t responding much. 

His hand had trailed back down between Alastor’s legs, fingers sifting the coarse, bright red hair that curled up there.

“I hadn’t —” He broke off, a moan choking on the rest of his words and turning them into mindless, warbled static. Two blunt fingers rubbed over the nub at the top of his cunt, sending sparks shooting rapidly up his spine. 

How in the world was it possible for the devil to reduce him to putty in his arms so quickly? 

“I’ll never treat you any differently than I always have,” Lucifer mumbled, attaching himself to Alastor’s neck, tongue flicking out to taste. “That I want you to have a pleasant time is purely self indulgent.” 

Oh, fine, he would bite. “How so?”

A ragged, staticky gasp forced its way up his throat as those two fingers sank into him slowly, parting his walls for the very first time. A high-pitched, shrill ringing overtook his senses, yet Lucifer’s voice carried perfectly, cutting right through the noise as he nuzzled against an ear. 

“I love getting reactions out of you too. I want to see, hear and feel how your body responds to my touch,” he said thickly, a rasp hiding just out of earshot. 

“And what do you think so far?” Alastor tried to keep his voice level, as though asking for a project critique — or his redesign of the new hotel bar, considering how tacky the one Lucifer had made was.

“You’r gripping my fingers so tightly,” Lucifer mumbled, the wet, slick sound of his fingers pumping slowly somehow magnified by the comment. “I hope it’s not painful.” 

“Just strange,” Alastor sighed, shivering as he tried to focus on the touch. It wasn’t very special on its own, though Lucifer would every so often hook his fingers upward, making fresh heat flood Alastor’s abdomen. 

It seemed he spoke too soon — as Lucifer pressed a third finger into him, a twinge followed the growing stretch. Not quite pain, but a persistent throb. 

“Was that my hymen?” he questioned, cheeks heating at how delirious he sounded, gaze fixed on the high, blank ceiling in the king’s apple-dome. 

“That’s still a myth, Al,” Lucifer reminded him softly, kissing along the top of one folded ear, “it’s the first time you’re having anything in you, right? So, it just takes your body a little bit to get used to.” 

Okay, that was fine. Humming, he shoved his face into the crook of Lucifer’s shoulder and neck. “For how long?” 

“How long, what?” Lucifer asked, pumping his fingers slowly, “the ache will disappear faster if you relax.” 

“I am relaxed,” Alastor protested unconvincingly, a blat of static betraying him as Lucifer sped up — all to prove a point — forcing his body to yield and tense all in one confusing jumble. His stomach coiled with the rapid bursts of what he now recognized to be pleasure, heating up his innards until it felt like a molten avalanche descended upon him.

A strange sensation built at the crux of his hips as he jolted every time Lucifer’s knuckles bumped into that little sensitive nub at the apex. It didn’t snap the way it had before when Lucifer touched him — it kept building, static answering with releasing screeching belts of discordant notes. 

“You look like you’re about to come just from this,” Lucifer groaned, the sound low and erotic in the back of his throat. 

Alastor could have sworn he felt the vibrations of every word shoot through Lucifer’s hand and right into his body, because something did snap then, forcing his back to bow forward as he clamped his legs shut around Lucifer’s hand. Shoulders pressing almost painfully into the hard flooring, he clung to Lucifer for dear life, memorizing the low, not-quite pained sound from his throat as his claws dug into pale skin. 

“Fuck, Al,” Lucifer growled, pressing his face into Alastor’s damp hair, right by the base of a quivering ear. 

Thankfully, Lucifer withdrew before he had a chance to ask him to. Alastor’s arms fell from Lucifer’s shoulders as he panted wildly, staring up towards nothing at all. His fingertips were stained golden with Lucifer’s blood, rapidly drying and cracking against his skin like a mosaic. 

If he had the strength to look at them properly, he was sure he’d have found them beautiful, yet paling in comparison to the devil sitting before him, inspecting his messy hand like it was a brand new duck to play with. 

His pussy tingled with the aftershocks of being jolted to completion so abruptly, the phantom thrusting from Lucifer’s fingers still making him shiver as he stared at the Devil. 

“What?” He questioned once his pulse had eased up to a manageable level — if this was going to be a thing every time, he was going to start fearing a heart attack was imminent. 

Lucifer splayed his fingers, looking at the way the sticky fluid between them clung between the digits in pale ribbons before it broke. 

“I was just thinking about how much I wanted to…” he trailed off, opening his mouth. His apricot-coloured tongue curled around each finger in turn, savouring the sticky liquid of Alastor’s slick.

“I’m certain that constitutes some sort of sin,” Alastor commented, cheeks heating even as he couldn’t bring himself to tear his eyes away. 

Garnet eyes were closed in bliss, revealing pale purple eyelids, like the taste was something from the gods themselves, moaning around the remnants of Alastor on his fingers. 

He watched, intrigued as Lucifer released the third finger with a loud, wet, pop. When his eyes did open again, they were inverted, slitted pupils blown wide enough the gold was nothing but a glowing band separating the black from his red sclera. 

“Would you let me eat you out before I fuck you?” He asked breathlessly, entirely without any shame. 

Screeches of static jumped like a ruined vinyl skipping over the needle. “You want to what now?” Alastor asked.

“Can I eat you out? Uh, lick your pussy?” Lucifer blinked at him, about to dive right down when Alastor clamped his legs shut right in front of his face — for once it was a good thing his nose was nothing more than curved slits. 

“Why on earth would you want to lick it?” Scowling, Alastor kept his legs shut, even as Lucifer leaned his chin on his knees. 

“Come on,” the devil cooed at him, licking his lips, making his lips sparkle from the crackling logs in the fireplace, “you taste so good, and I can make you feel even better.” His tongue poked out again, twin prongs swirling and twirling independently as his tongue changed shape slightly — thickening as the forks became deeper, giving them even more independent movement. 

A burst of excitement warmed the pit of Alastor’s stomach. Traitorous feelings. Pesky, useless things, all too yielding to the temptation that was before him.

“Well fine, but be quick about it,” he grumbled, allowing Lucifer to cradle his legs as they fell open. 

“I’ll be so good,” Lucifer moaned just at the look of him — and it couldn’t possibly be much different from how it was before all this started. 

“I hear people these days have issues with hair, so if that’s one of yours, too bad —” he squealed the final beat, static overtaking his voice entirely as Lucifer nuzzled his face into his crotch.

“Some warning would be nice!” He chastised, thighs tensing to close again immediately, only to be stopped easily by the sheer strength running through Lucifer’s small, usually unassuming body. 

“Do you really think I’m going to be deterred by a little hair?” Lucifer purred at him, the sound rumbling through his chest and out of his mouth — Alastor’s nethers positively sang with the vibration, unable to keep a surprised gasp at bay. 

“Well, what would I know about your likes and dislikes?” Alastor felt hot where lay bare, a whole devil between his legs, sharp teeth scraping gently where he was both most sensitive, and most vulnerable. “All I know is how much I hear when I prowl the streets, or change to the wrong radio sta — ah!” Static popped like a bubble — a hot tongue tracing the cleft of his pussy from bottom to the top. 

“Do you trust that I like this?” Lucifer looked unlike Alastor had ever seen him before. Long tongue flicking up and back into his mouth with a quiet hiss, drinking every nuance of Alastor’s taste and translating them into information in his mind. Eyes half-lidded and still inverted — they glowed brightly, his own little spotlights. 

Capturing him for the foreseeable future. 

“I —” What could he say? Not one single word, profanity, witty or stupid came to his tongue. Utterly tongue tied and all the more embarrassed for it, it was even more shocking to see the little devil didn’t dig in immediately. Oh no, he stayed where he was for a bit, pressing warm, wet kisses to the top of his mons, rubbing his face into the bright hairs. 

“You can hold onto me if that helps?” Lucifer smirked as his gaze flickered upwards, holding onto Alastor’s just long enough for his chest to tighten uncomfortably. 

“With what?” he questioned, nose wrinkling. His thoughts got no further as that tongue returned, the prongs licking around his freshly penetrated opening. 

The wet noises were so loud, he folded his ears down against his head, muffling them slightly as the strange sensation of another’s mouth on him registered properly. 

A tad too busy to reply, Lucifer reached blindly for his hand as he continued his slow, sensuous exploration. Intrigued, and far too weak to resist, he gave his hand over to be brought to the devil’s pale, blond tresses. Silky soft against his fingers, he still had no idea what to do with this. Did Lucifer want to be pet like an animal for the duration? 

That couldn’t possibly be what he meant. 

His dew claws scraped against the floor beside Lucifer’s body, legs tensing up as Lucifer’s sinful tongue ascended up his cleft. Although he was at the mercy of the devil’s careful attention, Alastor found himself strangely relieved. Each lick delivered onto his core, each press and swirl of that tongue felt like a caress carried by a reverence reserved for deities of the past. 

Instead of a meal, he felt worshipped at an altar. 

Perhaps his experience was not unique amongst folks with his particular gear — but it had been his impression whilst alive, and Hell had not shown itself much kinder. If you weren’t preying, you were the prey. If you did not eat, you were eaten. 

Alastor was being devoured, it was inevitable, unmistakable, he thought as Lucifer’s mouth moved higher still, never stilling in its pursuits to know his most intimate, as if he was afraid this might be his only chance to commit the sensation to memory. 

He’d lifted up on an elbow, breath hollow and ragged, laced with heavy, crackling static as he watched the king’s jaw move. If there was one man who could make being fed on quite so pleasurable, it had to be temptation incarnate, didn’t it. 

From the moment their verbal clashes became physical — Hell, perhaps even before then — his damnation, his ruination was spelled in thick, looping letters across his soul. 

Without contract, without so much as a word of promise or bargain between them, golden chains were laid across his soul. Every fall into those arms had been yet another chain — and what was this if not the chain giving Lucifer the leash to control him for the rest of eternity. 

“Fuck,” he hissed, back bowing, pleasure shooting sharply up his spine and dissolving back into his abdomen when Lucifer at last reached the apex, tongue prongs twisting around each other to explore and taste from every angle. 

A moan vibrated from his mouth and right onto Alastor’s clit — his hand had clenched in the king’s hair, making a right mess of those silky, blonde strands. Ringlets curled over his reddened fingertips, drowning his claws in the pretty canopy of shades. 

The only thing keeping his legs from attempting to crush that darling head was the blackened arms curled around his thighs, claws kept at bay even as Alastor strained against the tightness building in his abdomen. 

His own hands had never felt like this — not even his own tentacles had elicited much more than a half-hearted little nudge. What set Lucifer apart from everything else, Alastor lacked the vocabulary to express. 

Women spoke between themselves of men being unsatisfactory in bed, of their greed and selfishness. Lackluster performances breeding nothing but immense disappointment. Alastor felt bad for them — well, as bad as someone like him was able to. Which wasn’t a lot. 

They settled for less, he took more. 

“You make the prettiest noises, do you know that?” Lucifer’s voice wafted in the air around them, coiling like glittering plumes of smoke, allowing his voice to transmit despite his mouth being terribly busy. 

He hadn’t even noticed the way his own voice continuously poured sound like an endless polaroid camera spitting images at rapid speed. The way his vision tinged with red in every corner registered before the steady tick of the dials spinning in his irises. Static crackled and lurched, unable to settle. 

Against the wall, the shadow writhed as it appeared in Alastor’s periphery. A mimicry of his own position, tail wagging happily as its back bowed upwards sharply, clawing against the fireplace mantle like some desperate, horny — 

“Lucifer —” he growled, snapped back to attention, panic lingering just in the edge of his voice as that feeling came back tenfold, thrumming along his thighs and lower belly like a rocket about to take off. 

The devil in question was relentless in his pursuit of Alastor’s peak, wild and untamable as the sea, yet as unchanged as the oldest of mountain ranges. Alastor flushed down to his hooves, back bowing back sharply just like that blasted double of his had depicted.

His tail was getting sore from how hard it thwacked against the ground, he’d felt it for a while, yet it faded completely out of existence. Everything but the rush of his orgasm erased itself from his mind. 

The sound that rose up from his throat was one he could feel, even as its pitch quickly grew too high for his ears to pick it up. He felt the snap and crack across the windowpanes against his own skin, as though he broke right along with them as they blew out. Shards clinked against each other as they hit the broken frame, then fell toward the ground. 

When normal sound at last returned along with his senses, it was with a guttural groan drawn from the very core of his being, and the overwhelming feeling of still being touched. 

“Get off,” he told Lucifer, hoarse and entirely void of filter. He stared at the room beyond their little corner, watching millions of bits of glass glitter across the floors. 

“You okay?” Lucifer retreated slowly, voice thick in his throat. His hands peeled themselves off of Alastor’s thighs, yelping as his knees clacked together immediately, sagging to one side helplessly. 

It had been raining when they came up to the room, he remembered. Pentagram City was still outside now, the howl and scream from the city centre far off and distant. 

“I don’t know,” he admitted quietly, having already forgotten what he’d been asked. His mind spun on empty, static barely spluttering back to life with a miserable, dry groan of rusty hinges. 

As soon as some strength returned to his limbs, he lifted himself up on an elbow slowly, finding Lucifer sat patiently before him, eyes wide with something like wonder or astonishment rolling off of him in waves. His cheeks glistened in the glow from the fireplace, chin nearly dripping. His chest fared no better. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Alastor asked with a scowl etched on his face. The realization dawned on him slowly as he became aware of his own body fully — his tail ached, it was true, and his crotch felt someone had thrown boiling water at it. 

Burning hot, impossibly sensitive and wet enough to put a mermaid to shame. 

Lucifer’s cheeks tinged golden, a warmer colour shimmering just beneath the surface, turning the affected skin the colour of a sweet, ripe apricot. 

“You’re a wonder,” were all the words tumbling from his mouth before he seemed to shake himself out of it, “seriously, are you alright? Do you want an express clean?” 

His gaze trailed to a charred hand, watching the way those clawed fingers wiggled in the air, red and gold sparks dancing between them as magic was summoned, easy as breathing. 

“Pray tell, what is the point of that when we’re not finished yet?” Alastor arched a brow. If he were to be cleaned now, it might spell the eve’s end, “besides, you have more important things to clean,” he added, the shadow helpfully gesturing to the glass shards littered behind them.

“Huh?” Lucifer looked up as he snapped himself clean, the sounds of pentagram city cutting out entirely moments later. “I didn’t notice.” 

Static popped like bubble wrap. “How do you not notice your own windows blowing out?” 

“Uh, maybe because I was a little busy feeling you come against my face and threatening to give me a monk’s haircut?” Lucifer stuck his lip out in a pout as he rubbed at his head. It stood greatly at odds with the way his duck printed pants were tented, the poor duck at the top of it stretched into a poor caricature of its original design. 

The fabric at the tip was darkened, damp enough the next pearl of pre-cum leaked straight through. Alastor longed to reach out and touch it, just to feel the texture of the pale, gently shimmering fluid against his fingertips. 

A pang of excitement shot through his nerves as he moved his legs again, sitting up properly to allow his tail a little room to breathe. 

That seemed to spur Lucifer into action, for some reason Alastor couldn’t pick apart as all the blood in his body seemed to rearrange itself once he was upright once more. 

“Shit, you’ve been right there against the cold floor,” Lucifer said in a rush, springing up to glance around in a near panic. It was so hopelessly endearing Alastor didn’t have the heart to remind him the fireplace helped a great deal. 

“I certainly hope you will be bringing things here, because I will leave if you take me to bed in that monstrosity you call a resting spot.” 

“Are you calling it my grave?” Lucifer gave a startled chuckle as he hobbled around, almost about to round the love seat when Alastor grabbed his wrist. 

“I’m fine, Lucifer,” he said quietly — lifting three tendrils from his back to tug the discarded duvet beneath himself, “if it pleases you… my tail is a little aching from how much it wagged.” Heat curled up his spine at the admission, cheeks warming up as well. 

A bleat startled past his lips as Lucifer all but collapsed onto his knees before him again, arms hovering as though he’d been about to make a grab for it, yet stopped himself. 

“I should summon a pillow for your hips,” he murmured. 

“How very kind of you.” Alastor flashed him a smirk, tail wagging as a snap of fingers brought a plush pillow between his back and the duvet. 

The heavy thrum of arousal had just begun to dissipate when Lucifer darted forward to press their lips together briefly – another snap of fingers reaching his ears, they swivelled atop his head, trying to catch the sound until he heard the muted thump of fabric hitting the bed mattress. 

“You rob me of sight,” he complained against sweet lips, shivering at the low laughter from the devil. 

“You flirt,” Lucifer teased in return, granting Alastor one last kiss before pulling back, “I’m a little afraid if you touch me right now, I’ll come before I’m even in you.” 

The way Lucifer’s voice caught all the way at the back of his throat, hoarse and much darker than normal, as though being aroused somehow changed him. 

Perhaps that was what it did for most people — connected them to their inner beasts. Witnessing the proof that his body was pleasing enough for an ancient, cosmic being to lose his marbles was an ego boost he might never recover from.

“Is that supposed to be romantic?” Alastor looked away, ears folding down to the sides. He covered his mouth with one hand so Lucifer couldn’t mock him for the tremble as he bit into his lower lip, teeth threatening to render skin. 

“If you want it to be,” Lucifer said as he hopped closer — bare legs meeting the backs of Alastor’s thighs. 

“I thought I already told you,” he grumbled, refusing to look square into those big, open eyes full of wonder and adoration, “I am not you next —” 

He cut off with a static squeal, the sound skittering and bouncing along the floorboards. Heat sizzled like a brand up his spine, settling at the very base of his skull as he registered the heated flesh sliding against his cunt. 

“I’m not gonna marry you, Al,” Lucifer chuckled, his cock jumping against Alastor’s slick sex as he flexed forward. 

How in the world was this somehow okay, but his hand would render him to completion? Speaking the question to life lingered right at the back of his tongue, Lucifer’s words barely registering — until they did. 

“Had it not been because I am barren in death, it would have been your duty to do so,” he griped, antlers branching as his mind was torn between the battle of words and the creeping need to give in. 

They were so close — seated against each other in front of a fireplace in the King’s own chambers, nude as the day of their creation and birth, about to commit the most natural sin known to man since the dawn of time; copulation, all without being bound in the bondage of wedding bands and fanfare — yet Lucifer still felt impossibly far away. 

An unhappy blat of static popped from his throat, covered by the snap of a burning log. He looked back at Lucifer, first just from his periphery, finding the monarch with his head dropped to watch where they weren’t even united yet. 

Heat erupted across Alastor’s face as his head slowly lifted, the burn of his gaze leaving trails of fire across his skin, from his abdomen and up his chest until they lingered on his lips for long enough he had to wet them, then they were on his, making his eyes burn with a sudden flash of emotion.

“Is that what you want for Christmas instead? A wedding contract?” There was something abjectly serious lingering at the edge of the otherwise lighthearted, playful lilt of his voice. “Are you asking to be mine — to bind your soul to my being for the rest of eternity?” 

Don’t be ridiculous, was the first thought registering in Alastor’s mind. Immediate rejection, never going to happen. Not in a million years. Over his dead body. 

Try as he might, though, the denial wouldn’t pass his lips. Instead he sat there, gaping like a fish, lids fluttering as every rational thought slipped from his mind with the growing pleasure building in his veins.

“That’s quite a loaded question,” he murmured eventually, tremors wracking through his frame as he gave into an impulse to cling to the devil again. Lucifer’s skin was so warm and surprisingly tacky with a thin sheen of sweat, he had to hop a little closer to get comfortable. “Hardly fit for the occasion lest the answer you seek is having me cry out like a common whore from the feeling of your cock buried in my cunt.” 

“Alastor —” Lucifer gaped at him, aghast at the words he’d been subjected to, clearly. 

He continued as though the king hadn’t said a word, “are you stalling, dear?”  His lids lowered as he regarded Lucifer carefully. “I’ve had quite enough of your dillydallying.” 

They were already as close as two lovers could be.

“I’m not stalling,” Lucifer swore, eyes blazing for a second, red irises swirling with molten gold, “just… nervous.” 

“Whatever for? You’ve done this countless times.” There was no denying how his tail wagged faster at the breathy, quiet admission. If there was a holy grail, it was sitting right in front of him. 

Still, Alastor couldn’t possibly imagine what was so nerve wracking about fucking him. He was just a sinner hell bent on situating himself into Lucifer’s life like a fungi growing on a tree to leech off of his power. 

Right? 

“I haven’t,” Lucifer denied with a shaky laugh, “eight years practically celibate and you’ve never done this before, so I’m just,” he paused, exhaling in a nervous rush, “I haven’t done this since Eden, Alastor.” 

The words curled over Alastor’s ears, tickling the fine little hairs covering the inside of them — they twitched, perking up slowly as heat warmed them. Whatever his face looked like, he no longer wanted to think about. 

It was another reminder, but he couldn’t bring himself to be mad about it. Not when Lucifer was looking at him like it — he — was important. He could let it slide this time and be honest. 

“I’ll never be more ready than I am at this moment,” he said quietly, filter dropped entirely. His skin thrummed with anticipation, slithering like vipers under his skin. 

“Okay,” Lucifer agreed, whipping his tongue out briefly, the prongs vibrating in the air before he licked across his mouth. “Okay.” 

A sigh of relief expelled in unison — the exact origins impossible to distinguish from each other — as Lucifer took himself in hand, the heat of him disappearing from the length of Alastor’s cunt for all of a single moment. 

Blunt pressure nudged against his opening, pressing gently against his skin. All it would take was a nudge and the head would pop right on in.

Alastor dug his claws into Lucifer’s back as the pressure grew, nerves igniting with a sear so prominent it knocked the breath out of his lungs. Lucifer was much bigger than his fingers, and the sharp bolts of pleasure shooting up his spine couldn’t quite dull the burning that threatened to render him obsolete as his body was possessed. 

“You gotta breathe, Alastor,” Lucifer whispered, voice strained in the back of his throat, breath ghosting across Alastor’s cheek. “It’s my fault for stalling.” 

“Stop talking,” Alastor grunted, breath whistling between his teeth as he attempted to do as asked. Every movement jolted Lucifer within his body, flaring that same agony until his stomach rolled with it. 

This was what the girls of his youth kept talking about, what he’d feared, and what he’d hoped Lucifer wouldn’t be just another coin at the bottom of a slot machine with. 

“Can I try something?” Lucifer’s breath was warmer than the fireplace against his neck, his hands hot against Alastor’s clammy legs, stroking upwards toward his hips. 

“You’ve already branded my insides with molten fire, what more damage is there to be done?” Alastor griped as he dropped his forehead to Lucifer’s shoulder. He had the sinking feeling this was a colossal mistake. 

Perhaps his body wasn’t made for this sort of act in the slightest. No skin off his back, except the strips of wounded pride. 

“I stalled too long, I’m sorry. I got all caught up in my own nerves,” Lucifer explained, even if Alastor had already told him not to, but his irritation melted away as fingers brushed against his tense tail. 

A low hum of static rose from his throat, spiralling round them as Lucifer scratched at the base, finding that sensitive juncture just between skin and fur. Shivers danced up his spine, unknotting his tense muscles ever so slowly. 

“Shut —” a gasp cut Alastor off as Lucifer filled him further, deeper. The ache persisted as he started rolling his hips, dragging his cock along Alastor’s inner walls slowly. Where he’d dried up from the lack of arousal, Lucifer had already fixed the issue, the next forward thrust smooth as caramel. 

“Just breathe. I promise it won’t be painful forever, yeah?” The kisses peppered against his neck were a welcome distraction, filling his head with sensory inputs that were no longer purely centred on their union. 

He said nothing as Lucifer pressed against him, forcing him backwards onto the floor, the pillow at his back elevating him just enough for Lucifer to keep his grip there, playing with his tail to keep his nerves occupied as his body rearranged itself in real time. 

Thin rivers of blood ran down Lucifer’s back from claws embedded in his skin — he knew, because the smell of him was so saturated in the air, curling up under Alastor’s nose and making his mouth water desperately. 

His antlers branched out in tines as Lucifer kept filling him, every smooth roll of his hips matched with a stroke and a gentle pull on his tail — every possession filling his body and mind further, and further, and further. 

A sharp, high bleat ripped from his lips as something within his body halted any further exploration. Lucifer’s hips were pressed hard against his own, skin sticking together. 

“What?” he snapped sharply, looking down at his body most offendedly. 

“Jes — fuck,” Lucifer cursed above him, hanging over him with tremors running through him, and not from the pain Alastor was bringing onto him. His face wasn’t tense in any way witnessed from him before. His jaws were slack, lips parted as he panted. “You keep squeezing like that, and I’m going to blow.” 

“I can’t help it!” Alastor hissed, static hissing around him as pleasure coiled up his spine, so little movement, yet it already ignited his nerves. “Get on with it already.” 

Lucifer claimed his lips in a bruising kiss — likely to shut him up — and started rolling his hips into him again, every thrust shooting sparks as the ache dissipated until it was nothing but an afterthought. 

The sweet, yet unbearably intense drag of Lucifer’s cock against his cunt made it hard to focus on moving his mouth against Lucifer’s lips. Low moans vibrated through the king’s chest as he raked his claws through Alastor’s tail. 

Static crackled around them, buzzing across the fine hairs on his arms, making them stand up as he regarded the magnificence of whom he’d allowed to have him like this through the eyes of his shadow — although his own form was blurred out, wispy ether lingering at the edges. 

“Stay here,” Lucifer rumbled against his lips, and how he caught it, Alastor didn’t know. Yet another proof of power, he suspected. “Don’t go.” 

His eyes tracked the way Lucifer’s lean muscles shifted beneath pale skin, every roll of his hips making his thighs and back ripple with tension, glutes tensing and softening with the motions. His biceps were swelled where he curled around Alastor’s slip hips on the floor, fingers buried in the fluff of his tail. 

Even to his own untrained eyes, it looked like love. 

“I’m here,” he answered thickly, voice projecting from his throat without pausing their kisses, intonation wrapped in crackling static, pressing closer as the sliver of his consciousness withdrew from the shadow. 

The pesky thing followed him, fitting itself in ribbons along the floor, where his body would have cast a shadow from the flickering fire in the fireplace. It connected itself in points, hooves first, making Alastor’s legs twitch and tense. 

He felt Lucifer begin to draw back, having picked up on some kind of subtle shift. A static hiss bubbled in his throat, one hand digging into that previously pristine, pale back, the other sliding against the base of his neck, brushing past silky ringlets of sweaty hair 

His shadow connected itself fully then, hands first, then melting into his back to situate itself wholly. Alastor whined, high-pitched and ringing as it projected from his chest. 

No longer wholly in control, his legs moved on their own accord, closing over Lucifer’s pumping hips to keep him close. Tension coiled low in his abdomen again, tingles of warmth spreading over his inner thighs. 

“Fuck,” Lucifer whispered against his mouth, “I’m not gonna —” he cut off as Alastor licked into his mouth, pressing the lengths of their tongues together. 

Words were superficial and unwanted. Alastor’s head swam with the fresh sensory inputs, heightened by being complete. Every breath expelled from Lucifer’s nose in a rush tickled across his face. 

The tremble to his arms spoke not of fatigue, but restraint. His hard cock jumped and throbbed every so often as he thrust forward, aching and undoubtedly ready for release. 

Somewhere along the way, Alastor’s mind had forgotten the aches and pains from the beginning, relaxing into the act even if he felt like a wrung out rag, teetering on the edge of imploding. 

A loud hiss reverberated through his chest as one of Lucifer’s hands left his tail, sliding around his hip to dip down between their bodies. The guttural groan that punched through Lucifer’s frame as fingers felt around their union, skirting Alastor’s stretched opening as he thrust forward, was music to his ears. 

“You’ve got one more in you, don’t you?” Lucifer drew back to whisper against his lips, all finesse thrown out the window as his hips stuttered, trying and failing to keep the same rhythm as he teetered on the edge of sanity. 

Alastor was delirious with the pure want washing over him, the mere idea his body was making Lucifer feel so desperate.  

“Only one way to find out,” he said, voice projecting from his throat in a hiss as he panted, head dropping backwards as his antlers kept branching in time with the growing pleasure. His body rolled forward to meet the Devil’s, the new, still unfamiliar desires bursting in his veins calling for more, more, more.

There was a saying, what the hand does, the mind remembers. Alastor recalled it well from his childhood and youth. He remembered well the actions of his own hands, getting them dirty had never been a problem. 

He also remembered the bad of hands against his skin, against his person, with a stark clarity that had only heightened upon his awakening as a prey animal in Hell. He’d earned his teeth and earned his claws through violence and diligence. 

No one warned him he’d be lost in the good of hands against his skin, slowly growing addicted to the feeling of strong fingers against the heated flesh of his sex, sharp claws tugging against his tail and the sensitive fur — just as much as he would forever remember the way Lucifer’s back moved beneath his palms, muscles rippling and swelling as he tensed. 

No part of his mind was unscathed as the landslide detached from the mountain and hurtled toward the sea. 

His back bowed, tense as a drawn bow — tingles spread across his abdomen and legs, curling slowly over the crux of his thighs. The syllables of Lucifer’s name rang true from his lips, echoing repeatedly from the cathedral radio on the mantle as Lucifer’s clever, wondrous touches hurtled him over the precipice. 

He jerked and twitched in Lucifer’s grip, gasping as he clenched around the length still moving within him. No more than a handful of thrusts later, a strange splash of warmth heated his insides. Lucifer bowed over him, gasping as his hips faltered into a quick, spasming rutting. 

Feeling Lucifer like that against him — the Devil, the black sheep, the serpent from the garden — made him feel more powerful than swallowing any overlord ever had. There was power in seeing one of the most powerful beings lose control, all because his body provided them with their own ruination. 

Lucifer sagged down against him, panting wildly with his forehead pressed over Alastor’s sternum. As his cock softened, it slipped out along with the mess left behind. 

Alastor, for one, was entirely too exhausted and sore to care about it. For two, having the gentle weight pressing him down into the floors was nice. Much nicer than he would ever admit to. 

As the last dregs of pleasure eased up, slowing his galloping heart to its normal rhythm, he summoned a blanket from his own rooms, covering their bodies. The scents of apples and cinnamon mingled well with the warm sweet-rot of the bayou. 

“Are you okay?” Lucifer mumbled against his skin, turning his head to the side for a moment before angling his head up to catch Alastor’s eyes. 

He blinked at the question — he was still whole, wasn’t he? No regeneration needed. Somehow he didn’t feel like Lucifer would appreciate the sentiment of that. 

“I’m exhausted, sweaty and my sex is covered in fluids of varying origin,” he said, huffing quietly, even as a shy smile softened his face considerably, “yes, I’m alright.” 

Was it rude not to ask Lucifer in return? If it was, Lucifer didn’t comment on it as he wiggled his way up to press a soft kiss to his mouth. 

“Merry Christmas, Alastor.” Lucifer beamed at him, gesturing to the clock beside the radio on the mantle. 

Indeed, it was way past midnight. His second Christmas with the Hotel was officially there — and his first Christmas in the arms of the Devil. 

“Merry Christmas, Lucifer,” Alastor murmured, twirling a strand of silky blonde hair around a finger, heart fluttering beneath his ribs as the Devil leaned into the touch and closed his eyes with a sigh. 

His maman always wanted him to find a good man. Would she be proud of him for finding two? One in himself, and one to love deeper than he’d loved anyone since her? 

He hoped she would rejoice in the fact that he was no longer completely alone, even if he was never one to make things too easy for himself. 

“Have you figured out what my gift for you was yet?” Lucifer hummed, dipping off his body to nuzzle into the crook of Alastor’s arm, throwing one leg over his hip. He looked positively sleepy where he rested. 

A blat of static churned uncomfortably through Alastor’s chest. “Did you give it to me?” 

“Of course I did!” Lucifer poked his side, forcing a bleat past his lips, “really, you haven’t figured it out?” his lower lip pushed out. 

An apology he wasn’t quite ready to have used against him at any point bubbled low in his throat. He swallowed it down and shook his head, “it must have escaped my notice,” paused, cheeks heating at remembering everything that had distracted him so thoroughly, “will you show it to me?” 

Warm, shimmering, apricot-coloured splotches rippled over Lucifer’s cheeks. “It’s more of a concept? I wanted to give you patience — as in, to have patience with you, to figure out when you want to fight for fun, and when you need me to back off, without you running away on me.” 

Alastor’s teeth clacked shut audibly — his cheeks heated as he closed his eyes, unable to look at the wide-eyed, vulnerable look on Lucifer’s face. “Oh,” he said, a squeak curling around the word. 

He thought back to his own impatience and discomfort with the vulnerability of it all, and how he’d almost let a simple question ruin it all. 

“Thank you,” he said, blindly leaning down, canned laughter briefly ringing out from the radio on the mantle as Lucifer reached up to meet him, covering his lips. 

Alastor said nothing on the oddly convenient state of it all, or how giving gifts would have turned out if his was physical, and Lucifer’s wasn’t. He almost lamented the loss of not getting to see him flustered and stuttering, trying to explain himself. 

Maybe next year, Alastor thought, strangely comfortable with the idea of promising himself to stay that long. 

“You’re welcome,” Lucifer chuckled, chest vibrating with the sound, “do you want to go shower?” 

Oh, he was desperate for it. The trickle of fluid on his nethers was threatening to render him homicidal, yet he equally didn’t want to leave the bubble they were in currently. 

“Just a little while longer,” he sighed, burying his nose into Lucifer’s warm hair, trailing his claws gently down his arm to feel the gooseflesh rising from his touch. 

A few more minutes would do just fine.