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Alastor's whole body shivers, eyes rolling in their sockets as the incomparable heat of Lucifer’s tight cunt swallows him down to the root.
Again.
“Shit!” He bites his lip hard, adding to the mess already coating his chin as his hips buck of their own accord despite the position they're in making such movement next to impossible, “Ah, god, oh fuck!”
The babbling is met by an amused chuckle, one that’s slightly breathless but far steadier than it has any right to be. As his legs twitch uncontrollably, Alastor supposes it’s a cruel twist of fate that his usually frantic lover is so calm above him.
But he quickly chastises himself for such thoughts.
There’s not even a hint of cruelty in the way he’s been utterly spoiled with attention over the past hour.
That much is clear when he raises his blurry eyes to the King’s flushed face. Lucifer is concentrating on driving him right to the brink of insanity and keeping on the fucking line. In the single moment where he finally stills, Alastor can take in the sight of his finger-waved hair sticking to his forehead and the peek of the forked tongue sticking out between the lipstick smeared all over his mouth.
The sight alone conjures memories of the utterly devastating transformation the King had undertaken after he’d led him to the dancefloor. The royal ball was in full swing, a rousing success after the court had been dissolved for so long.
Even if Lucifer looked nervous at all the eyes on them. Which was why he’d not given a second thought to light-heartedly teasing his pint-sized lover about his height.
Or lack thereof.
What he hadn’t anticipated was for Lucifer to take it as a challenge. That the King, in front of the entire court, would transform himself into an uncannily dressed dance partner plucked straight out of Alastor’s prime on earth.
Which went a long way to explain his body’s immediate reaction, but there was more to it than-
-Lucifer snaps him out of his delirious reminiscing by raising himself up on those plump and stocking-clad thighs, almost to the point that his twitching cock slips out of the King completely.
The sudden loss after having those soft walls caressing him for what feels like an age has him spluttering, thrashing, and eventually whimpering.
Which seems to be the reaction his lover was seeking if the blurry grin he can just about see through his watering eyes is anything to go by. If there was any doubt, then Lucifer’s sharp intake of breath before he reverses the action says everything that smug mouth won't.
Especially with the slower pace allowing the King to carefully take him inside.
Inch by fucking inch.
“Fuck!” Alastor cries, claws almost shredding the silken sheets they’re twisted on top of as the similarly soft stockings slide against his bare skin, “Ah! That’s so-ah- oh, fuck!”
It’s nonsense. Pure and utter nonsensical drivel that feels so foreign on his lips.
But Alastor’s too far gone to even attempt to hide his noises anymore. Not when Lucifer’s pushing him far beyond its limits, refusing to stop even after he spilled his load deep inside the cunt that’s now grinding against his pelvic bone.
Which was already his second climax of the evening that’s gone so incredibly sideways.
The grinding movement is something purely for Lucifer’s pleasure, one that he demonstrates by moaning unashamedly while pushing his swollen clit against the patch of hair at the base of Alastor’s throbbing cock.
But that doesn’t make it any less arousing.
No, despite his own body being folded in half at the hips, with Lucifer restricting his movements by mounting him over his legs, Alastor’s mind is absolutely reeling at being used in such a way. He’d always known Lucifer’s stamina and drive for anything sexual surpassed his, ever since he’d somehow ended up entangled in a relationship with the King of Hell.
But this was different.
As Lucifer continues to roll his hips, chasing his own pleasure while Alastor can do naught but stare up at his beauty in utter awe, he wonders why tonight seems to have broken through a whole other wall he didn’t even know existed. Even though he’s spent, twice already, he can’t stop the attempts to meet the King as he takes his pleasure from him.
Lucifer notices the turn, gripping whatever he can of Alastor’s trembling flesh as his lips curl into a smug smile. With his head this fogged with pleasure it takes him too long to register the switch, meaning the way Lucifer starts rapidly moving his hips seconds after floods him with pleasure he’s lacking the capacity to take while this overstimulated.
Making him absolutely howl.
His body twists, turning those spikes of oversensitive pain-laced pleasure prickling through his folded limbs into the start of an inferno. Because no matter the mental hoops he’s having to jump through over still wanting more, his body doesn’t have the same hang-ups. Not when it’s at the point of running entirely on primal instincts to get as close to the heavenly body above him as physically possible.
And then some.
Still, Alastor's feeble attempts so far to get his lover to stop, to give him the break he can’t decide if he needs physically or mentally, continue to fall on deaf ears. He whines, pleading with watery eyes, but no words come out.
It’s hardly a surprise when he’s so vocal in his pleasure, but still, he’s surprised Lucifer isn’t giving him a moment’s peace, considering he’s usually so cautious about his fluctuating libido.
Which almost makes him laugh in disbelief at the turn of events.
It’s also ridiculous, but then, he hadn't expected such an embarrassing betrayal from his own body to end like this.
Having temptation himself as a partner definitely had its perks.
Those golden eyes that flicker up to meet his own, even if the smile that accompanies them is smugger than anything he’s seen Lucifer in a while, those lidden orbs shine with nothing but adoration for him.
Lucifer is still in the dress that tempted him into this frenzy, even if the straps are halfway down his arms and the skirt ruched against his stomach. If anything, it adds to his allure. The boa has been abandoned, replaced by his own legs that the King is continually kissing and caressing as he rides him.
Case in point, when Lucifer slams himself down on the cock that’s now undeniably back at full mast he uses Alastor’s exclamation of pleasure as an excuse to nip his ankle.
Turning his moan into a choked attempt to draw breath.
Lucifer smiles again, making his stomach flutter even through every other assault on his senses. The whole picture is enough to drive Alastor into another frenzy despite the unconventional restraints he’s in, and yet, he’s constantly drawn back to the absolute mess around Lucifer’s mouth.
Of the black lipstick smeared around the lower half of his face. The cause of such a mess being something that Alastor’s currently wearing all over his trembling nude form.
From the neck Lucifer suckled on as they fumbled their way back to the guest room, the ones that made him blush brighter than a tomato that littered his ass, Alastor’s covered in evidence of his lover’s undivided attention.
With how sensitive and unhinged he’s feeling, it’s not long before flashes of the evening assault him, all centering around the mouth that’s currently parted as an endless stream of moans leave those swollen lips.
There’s a vision of Lucifer dazzling the crowds as they dance, all eyes on them, that thin black line almost invisible with how wide he’s grinning.
Then the King holding him tighter, those soft lips moving to compliment his dancing when he was the one deserving of praise.
When Lucifer’s fluid movements, sway of his hips, and flashes of pale skin had sent his mind reeling. Where Alastor’s body had ignored his pleas to keep calm, causing his almost instant erection to press into the warm body the second it wrapped around him.
As soon as he’d seen those eyes lid and the same mouth curl into a wicked smile before Lucifer purred-
‘I didn’t know you enjoyed dancing that much, big boy.’
-He’d known it was all over for him.
That was before they’d even got on the bed. When Lucifer had wasted no time in stripping him down while attacking him with his lips, teeth and tongue. Where he’d slunk between Alastor’s legs, teasing his throbbing cock by kissing everywhere but his already reddened tip.
Where he’d silenced Alastor’s protests about the kiss far too close to his own entrance by climbing on top of him, draping his still clothed form on top of him to demonstrate the skill of that mouth in full.
It was only then that Alastor had noticed the lack of underwear and the practically dripping lips begging him to lean up for a taste.
Which he’d managed, for a while. Even though drinking the King from the source with a taste that acted like the most powerful aphrodisiac for him, the heat of Lucifer’s mouth and the skill of his tongue had made straining upwards near impossible. Alastor had collapsed back on the bed, cursing their height difference whilst seeing the irony, and resorting to fucking into that sopping-wet heat with his fingers.
That was until his movements became disjointed. When the pleasure became too much for him to focus on anything other than bucking up to meet those talented lips.
When all it took was a simple ’Let me, Alastor’ to render him boneless, forced undone with an eyeful of the glistening folds just out of his reach.
The memory of which twists his gut, pulling him back to the present as that same wet cunt tightens around him with Lucifer’s next thrust.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
Despite the outburst of almost incomprehensible swearing, Alastor can’t even force himself to stop. His whole body feels like it’s on fire with the prickling heat building steadily, making him moan and writhe underneath the King. While his movements are limited, it’s enough that his eyes start rolling as he feels their combined slick drip down to coat his balls.
And keep dripping down, to the point his own entrance feels slick. A foreign sensation, but one his already blissed out mind almost wishes he could vocalise the unbearable need to explore further.
Rather than be disgusted at the mindless beast he’s become, Lucifer only seems spurred on by the endless noises spilling from his lips.
“That's it, Al,” He purrs, a slight more breathless but otherwise still so in control of his voice that it’s maddening, “Let me hear you.”
Alastor chokes. He's delirious, having no respite. Lucifer hasn't stopped since he came a second time in that heat. And now he's losing his mind.
“Lu-ci-fer,” he pants heavily, monosyllabic, the rhythm of his punched out voice matching the devil bouncing on top, “Slow - fuck -slow down!”
He knows he’s fucked up the second Lucifer sinks back down to the base of his cock and squeezes him till he chokes.
“Why would I do that?”
There’s a lilt to the King’s voice, and an obnoxious fluttering of his already low lashes as he leans over Alastor’s reddened face. The switch in angle gives Lucifer more leverage, which he immediately takes, speeding up their pace until Alastor can hear himself slapping against that shapely ass.
“Shit, It's too much! I-I can't,” Alastor pleads, trying to meet his lover’s eyes before being hit with regret the second he catches the King’s predatory expression, “Oh fuck, Lu, that's so-”
“-Good, right?” Lucifer interrupts, licking his lips as he slams himself down in an ever-quickening pace, “I can feel you pulsing, Al. You're so big inside me, hitting all the right-” His eyes suddenly slip shut, a heavenly moan slipping out of those kiss-swollen lips, “-oh, there! Yessss.”
He continues that pace, relentlessly hitting his own spot as his voice becomes ragged and breathless. It’s both familiar and different to the state Alastor usually reduces the King to, where he’s the one pulling out ecstasy after ecstasy until Lucifer screams his name to the high heavens.
But even though their positions haven’t fully switched, whose in control definitely has. The thought that Lucifer’s using him as nothing more than a glorified sex toy right now flits through Alastor’s hazy mind, making him moan again when he realises how much he enjoys that idea.
Even if the reality couldn’t be further from the truth.
There’s nothing in what they're doing that’s making Alastor feel used. It’s him who's been doted on, his limits pushed and body overwhelmed, all in the quest of bringing him more pleasure.
Just like he usually does for the King.
A sudden, unexpected wave of emotion hits Alastor like a truck. It’s then he sees what that twinkle in Lucifer’s eyes had meant when he’d paused their aggressive making out to lock the door, what the whispers of ‘showing him the night of his afterlife’ as they’d pawed at each other actually implied, how Lucifer has utterly consumed him and how Alastor can barely think because-
-Because the King is as beautiful above him as he was on the dance floor. When eyes were watching them dance and mouths whispering about the steps that looked far too familiar to be an accident.
Alastor feels his gut tightening, his body ready to climax again after such a short time, a feat previously unthinkable and yet-
“Ah, oh-” Sounds that barely make sense leave the jaw he’s left hanging open as the inferno inside him threatens to engulf them both in flames, “Oh god.”
He’s about to plead, beg, do anything to get Lucifer to let up and also never fucking stop in equal meassure when he’s instantly grounded by a finger tilting up his chin.
“That's it, Al-” Lucifer says breathlessly, his own peak clearly approaching with the way his inner walls have begun fluttering around his cock erratically again, “Would you be a good buck and come again-”
He pauses, slamming himself down to fit every last inch of Alastor’s twitching cock inside while looking down at him through lidded lashes.
“Big boy?”
Fuck.
The hat, the one item of clothing that Lucifer left on him, finally falls from his head as he arches his back like a bow against the plush mattress.
“Hah-” Alastor moans, mind reeling and limbs shaking as mind-shattering pleasure starts to build deep in his core, “Holy fuck!”
“I'm close too, Al”, The King replies, keeping the pace despite the effort making those perfect thighs shake around him, “Cum inside. Deep. I need you to fill me up and -fuck!”
Suddenly Lucifer stiffens above him, one of the hands he’d been using to steady himself flying toward his clit as his own need to cum overwhelms him.
Seeing his lover like that, riding him so perfectly while lost chasing his own ecstasy, is what shoves Alastor over the edge for the third time.
“Your majesty, I-” he tries to start, formalities quickly lost the second he feels that first spurt leave his throbbing length, “Cumming!”
Thankfully, that’s all his lover needs to follow him.
“Yes, yes, yes!” Lucifer moans without restriction, loud enough to alert the attention of any wandering guests as the cock inside him fulfils the request to fill him to the brim, “Alastor!”
There’s another slam of the King’s body then they’re both moaning as he bottoms out just as they both reach their peak.
Alastor’s delirious, babbling through the overwhelming pleasure that he’s been forced into, not sure if he’s ever felt something so earth-shatteringly pleasurable in his entire existence. Not when the joy of having reached his peak with his lover gives him as much mental satisfaction as the aftershocks racking both their trembling bodies.
Or, at least, it’s what Alastor assumes is trembling.
Until Lucifer starts grinding against him in earnest.
“Fuck, Lucifer-” Alastor starts, hands flailing to try and grip at any part of Lucifer he can reach to stop him moving on his still twitching cock, “You’re going to- ah- fucking kill me. You’re insatiable.”
“Insatiable? Can you blame me?”
Alastor freezes at the tone, looking up at the King of Hell in utter reverence.
Like the breathless yet powerful tone suggested, gone are the soft golden eyes he’d given his entire existence too before. In their place are the horns, the tail thrashing behind the King, and the pupilless fiery red orbs that make him weak at the knees.
Or, they would.
If Alastor’s knees weren’t currently being crushed into his chest.
“Fuck Al, just thinking about the way you looked at me tonight makes me want to ride you until dawn,” Lucifer continues, each breath causing smoke to billow out his already open mouth, “You feel so fucking good.”
As if to prove his point, Lucifer raises himself up, letting their combined release drip all over Alastor’s lower half before seating himself back down on the half-hard cock with an unmistakably wet squelch.
The sound which triggers something in Alastor. The lust he usually feels so fleetingly stirring despite his hat-trick of climaxes in an unforgivably short time. To the point he almost feels like he could go again, until a particularly hard grind from Lucifer sends him into convulsions.
Scrambling, he does the only thing he can think of.
“I-I- fuck-” Alastor tries to start even as the feeling of Lucifer’s swollen clit pressing into him is enough to make him salivate, “How about we make a deal?”
Lucifer pauses, golden irises momentarily flickering back into existence, “I’m listening.”
“Let me take a break, Luci-” Alastor starts, bucking his already exhausted hips as a way to try and signal he’s got a little more fight left in him, “-And then I’ll-”
He’s cut off by a firm hand around his throat.
“-No.” Lucifer says, the squeeze of his forefinger and thumb effortlessly restricting Alastor’s airflow, “Let me propose something instead, hmm?”
Not waiting for an answer he leans over Alastor, licking those ruined lips as Alastor feels his body start to betray him for the fourth time that evening.
“Fill me up one more time,” The King growls as his voice slips into its dual tone, “Fuck me so hard I won’t be able to think about anything else for a week.”
He punctuates his sentence with a slow grind of his hips, taking Alastor with him on the fantasy he almost wishes was physically possible.
“Until you’re dripping down my thighs and staining my stockings,” He bites his lip just as his tail comes into play, teasing down Alastor’s slick entrance as if responding to his thoughts from earlier, “Then I promise I’ll only dance with you for the rest of the night.”
Images flash unbidden through Alastor’s lust-drunk mind. He sees that exact scenario, of him twirling Lucifer in front of the nobility of Hell, all while his seed drips down those milky white thighs for all to see.
Where there would be no doubt the King was marked. Claimed.
By him.
Alastor finds himself hard again in an instant, much to the delight of the scolding hot insides intent on milking him of every last drop.