Archive of Our Own

Alastor looked down at the bound priest in amusement.

“Please don’t kill me – I have children!”

Alastor laughed. “That’s rather the problem, isn’t it, father Matthias?”

The man only whimpered in his priestly robes, bound to a chair like a trussed up Christmas ham, his complexion and rotundity only adding to the effect. Alastor shifted from foot to foot, the nun’s habit he was sporting apt at hiding his angular form. Disguising himself as a faithful sister in Christ was possibly the best thing he could have done, as the lecher only let his guard down around meek women and children (the bastard abused both, in ways that were frankly sickening, even to Alastor’s high tolerance for nauseating things). So here they were, locked in an old church, in front of the first pew, father Matthias bound to a chair and Alastor looking to the soon to be martyred man and the altar beyond – ah, he should make a sacrifice of this one, shouldn’t he? Alastor was certain the priest was headed straight to Hell on the next available underworld express, so why not expedite him like a precious parcel? The denizens of hell, if such a place existed, must be thrilled to receive clergy down there.

Deeply entertained by the man’s profuse sweating and wild, beady eyes, Alastor cut into the man’s forearm, relishing the monster’s screams as the blood swelled from the wound like an unholy fountain.

“Do you believe in Hell, Father?” Alastor asked sweetly in a high-pitched voice he used to lure the bastard in here.

“Yes – and you are headed straight for it – impersonating a woman of the cloth, threatening my life–” Matthias attempted to bluster but Alastor cut him off with a roll of his eyes.

“Yes, yes, I have murdered, Father, I’m sure I’ll get a nice cozy audience with Lucifer himself.”

“Don’t invoke the devil’s name in the house of God!” Matthias shrieked.

“Or what, god will come down from his celestial throne and smite me?” Alastor chuckled at the absurdity and dipped his finger into the bleeding wound, smearing it over his fingertips. “Why don’t we put this to the test, hmm? You pray to summon your God and I will summon the Devil, let’s see whose champion emerges first?” Alastor cackled maniacally and started drawing a sigil around the bound priest’s chair, returning every few seconds to dip into fresh ink needed to complete his canvas.

“You’re insane!” The priest cried out, struggling in his bonds.

No, Alastor thought to himself, the Father was the lunatic here – invoking a higher power utterly disinterested in the plight of humanity – the devil was at least portrayed as caring enough to interfere. He laughed at his own musings as he drew Lucifer’s sigil from memory – his fascination with the occult once again coming in handy to spook the gullible.

“Stop!” The panicked priest begged, eyes bulging and voice awash in panic. “You don’t know what you’re doing!”

“I admit I haven’t had the pleasure of summoning the King of Hell yet – who do you think he’d rather torture first? The shepherd of the flock who was sodomizing innocent little lambs, or the wolf slaughtering the shepherd to save them? My tithe money’s on you, Father!” Alastor said brightly as he dug his fingers into the man’s cut, rooting around his flesh for more blood. When precious little came up, he stuffed the tatters of the man’s sleeve into his mouth to muffle his gibbering and made a new incision on the other forearm, fresh blood welling up in a satisfying manner. As the man trembled and whimpered, Alastor whistled a happy tune while finishing the sigil. “Mmm, looks good! What do you think?”

The red-faced, bloated fucker shuddered, sputtering around the cloth stuffed in his mouth.

“Whoopsie-daisy,” Alastor tittered and yanked the cloth out. “Sorry, could you repeat that? I didn’t catch what you said from all the slobber.”

The priest was shaking in the chair and looking up at Alastor with such delectable fear that it suffused his gut with warmth – this was what he lived for, the realization that their end was upon them and that HE was the one giving it to them.

“Don’t invoke his name – it’s blasphemy!”

“Truly?” Alastor said with a pout of womanly affectation, then loomed over the unfortunate wretch. “Lu-ci-fer.” He enunciated crisply, grin wide and unrepentant, the white of his teeth blinding in the darkness.

“No!” The father cried out, a vein popping on his forehead.

Alastor straightened out and spread his arms like the dying Christ, keeping his legs rooted to the ground not to disturb the makeshift summoning circle, his voice booming in the quiet church, echoing off the rafters: “I invoke thee, Lucifer, Lord of Darkness – ascend from the fiery pit and accept this offering – feast upon this mortal’s flesh and blood!” He then proceeded to cackle maniacally and looked down to the priest, who started convulsing in the chair, eyes rolling back in his head.

“Oh, come on, no need for theatrics, old chum!” Alastor chuckled, full of glee. “It’s not as if Lucifer would actually grace us with his fallen countenance – it’s just you and me here…”

Instead of entertaining Alastor with further hysterics, the priest’s head lolled back as he sagged in his chair like a puppet with its strings cut.

“Fainting on me already?” Alastor drawled through a smug smile, then patted the priest’s puffy red cheek with the flat of his blade. “Can’t have that, wakey wakey!”

“He won’t wake.” A clear voice emerged from somewhere behind him – startling Alastor. He whipped his head around to stare at the intruder – a slight man in humble priest attire, pale, with short, near-platinum blonde hair.

Alastor knew how this looked – a man in a nun’s habit, hands bloodied and holding a hunting knife while standing over a demonic sigil and a tied up priest – it painted quite a vivid picture.

“The church was locked…” Alastor muttered. How did this priest gain entry? Did he have a spare set of keys?

“It remains locked.” The young priest said. In Alastor’s estimation, the man appeared to be in his mid-twenties, but looks could be deceiving. People always gave Alastor less than his thirty-seven.

“How did you get in?” Alastor asked, trying to keep his tone neutral.

The priest’s angelic visage morphed from serious and stoic into amused, his grin rather sharp for a man of his persuasion. “Take a wild guess.” The tone was oddly playful for someone who just walked in on a scene of grisly torture.

“Were you in the confessional when I walked in?” Alastor interrogated, as politely as he could muster, as if the situation was as mundane as asking a neighbor about their latest gardening efforts.

“I was not.” The blonde priest said with a beatific smile, as unconcerned with the situation as if they were discussing the weather.

“In the sacristy?”

The priest chuckled, his voice musical and sweet, like the most beautiful hymn. “You would have seen me come in if that were the case.” He pointed out, pale hand motioning elegantly towards the door left of the altar.

The priest’s nonchalance was unusual, but Alastor wondered whether he could spin this to his advantage. He wasn’t in the habit of killing innocent bystanders, not unless he could help it.

“I am a good Samaritan, Father.” Alastor said in a higher-pitched voice. “This man was molesting the congregation, my sisters, and the little lambs.”

The priest giggled; his face one of utter delight. “Oh, I know, sister. He is descending as we speak.”

Alastor halted, frowning deeply. “Descending?”

“He won’t have a good time down there – I heard pedophiles get sodomized with barbed wire nowadays?” The priest said mildly and stepped forward, coming closer like he was on a leisurely evening stroll.

Alastor turned the knife towards the intruder. “Walk away. Never speak of this to anyone and I will let you go.”

“A tempting offer…” The man purred, but didn’t stop, passing the pews in tense silence, until he stopped at the edge of the sigil. “Pity I cannot leave until I receive what I am owed.”

“Owed?” Alastor inquired, perplexed. Didn’t this fool value his life?

“Yes, sweet sister, I am owed a feast of flesh and blood.” The priest grinned at him, hip cocked and head tilted, his assessing stare stripping Alastor to the bare skin, entirely undeterred by the chaste habit he was draped in.

“Impossible…” Alastor muttered.

“Aw,” the handsome priest crooned, “and you called my name so sweetly… Don’t you recognize your rightful Lord, sinner?”

“The Devil?” Alastor scoffed, near hysterical. “You?”

“Why?” Lucifer smiled in a predatory manner as he circled the outer perimeter of the sigil. “Were you expecting someone uglier?”

“I expected hooves…” Alastor blurted out, feeling as if the world had gone off its axis. “Horns, maybe.”

Lucifer licked his lips with a forked serpent’s tongue and Alastor swallowed. It wasn’t a ruse… he was in the presence of the Devil himself.

“I could don those for you… if you’re good for me.” Lucifer said in a mischievous tone.

“Good?” Alastor asked shrilly.

“Yes, sweetheart. The frock is a nice touch, I admit…”

“Lucifer.” Alastor spat out, still incredulous.

“In the flesh!”

“I summoned you?”

“Mhm, you did.” Lucifer affirmed. “Good job, by the way. I haven’t been successfully summoned in a century or two. You’re very talented!”

“No, this can’t be right.”

Lucifer halted only to tut at him. “Are you calling me a liar? It’s not nice to lie… Speaking of lies...” Lucifer grinned and snapped his fingers. For a second, Alastor thought it had been nothing but a bluff, but in the next moment, he felt it – a pulsing, overwhelming heat suffusing his flesh from head to toe – his bones creaked and constricted, his muscles flexed and contracted – he felt as if his entire body was being squeezed and stretched like a piece of gum. It took no longer than a few disorienting, agonizing seconds, and then he was left gasping and dizzy. “What have you done to me?” Alastor demanded to know, but his voice came out curiously light.

“There, now it’s no longer a lie. You’re welcome.” Lucifer stated, calm as you please.

Alastor cleared his throat, feeling disturbingly odd, and looked down at his hands – fingers shorter, more slender, the grip on his knife no longer comfortable. “What have you done to my body?” Alastor asked, worry bleeding into his tone.

Lucifer only smiled, deeply self-satisfied. “Why don’t you feel under your habit, sister?”

Alastor turned pale as he patted himself down – his throat – his chest – his hips.

The notch on his throat was gone. Instead of a flat plane, his chest was now more ample and soft. His hips, once narrow, had filled out and his center of gravity seemed off-kilter. He tried to take a step but only managed to stagger out of the circle and overbalanced, his shoes now a size too large.

Lucifer caught him before he managed to break his face upon the floor. Despite the robes covering him from head to ankle, every point of contact seared through his newly rearranged nerves, leaving him gasping as Lucifer pulled him up.

“Pretty.” Lucifer said offhandedly as he assessed the contours of Alastor’s face, pale fingers running along his jaw.

“That wasn’t the deal…” Alastor said in a strained, clearly feminine voice as the reality of the situation finally dawned on him.

“Mhm.” Lucifer murmured soothingly, running the pad of his thumb across Alastor’s lips. He tried to move away, but his body ignored his commands, turning distressingly pliant in Lucifer’s hands. “You offered me a mortal’s flesh and blood.”

“I offered his!” Alastor protested, turning his head towards the limp body of the unconscious priest.

Lucifer tutted at him, tongue loud as it unpeeled from his perfect upper teeth. “He has expired. As such, he is useless for the purpose.”

“He’s not dead, he’s pretending!”

Lucifer looked him straight in the eye and laughed, his sweet-smelling breath tickling Alastor’s nostrils. “He’s as dead as a doornail, I’m afraid.”

“I didn’t kill him!” Yet, Alastor thought to himself. He hadn’t killed him yet.

Lucifer cooed at him. “His heart couldn’t take such a pretty girl as yourself – it popped in his chest like a champagne cork!”

“You’re going to kill me.” Alastor concluded. “You’re toying with me before you drag me to Hell.”

Lucifer flicked a finger gently on the tip of his nose. “You do have a vivid imagination, don’t you? No, nothing as dramatic as that. See, I am bound to you until I receive what you offered.”

“Flesh and blood.” Alastor muttered with a manic gleam in his eyes. “What do you want, a finger? A toe? A strip off my flank?” The first two would make his job much harder moving forward…

“So literal minded!” Lucifer tittered in delight as he smooshed Alastor’s now softer cheeks. “No, I don’t need to remove any of your appendages.”

The statement was absolutely hilarious, considering the fact he had already removed Alastor’s cock.

“How do you intend to feast on my flesh, then?” Alastor asked and Lucifer gave him a self-assured look before picking him up as if he weighed nothing. Startled by the maneuver, the knife slipped out of his grasp and clattered to the ground.

“You won’t need it… it’s not as if you could harm me with it anyway.” Lucifer remarked wryly.

“And I could have harmed you with my cock?” Alastor couldn’t help but snipe back.

“If that’s what you wanted, you shouldn’t have lied to the Father of Lies…” Lucifer said blithely and deposited Alastor upon the altar. Before he could have blinked, golden manacles shackled his wrists and pulled them apart, effectively chaining Alastor to the altar. “Now, let’s see what we have here…” With that, Lucifer’s pale fingers took hold of Alastor’s habit and hiked up his skirt to his knees.

“Hey!” Alastor protested, his voice distinctly feminine and a little breathless.

“No stockings?” Lucifer asked mildly. “Let’s fix that.” And with a snap of his fingers, a pair of white cotton stockings appeared on his legs, reaching the middle of his thigh. “Those shoes will never do…” Lucifer muttered his displeasure, and with a wave of his hand, Alastor’s now oversized shoes transformed into a pair of modest black Mary Jane’s, polished to a high shine.

The Devil was dressing him up – trailing hands up his ankles, calves and knees, inspecting his handiwork.

Lucifer looked up at him, brazen and hungry, eyes eager and bright, the color of molten gold.

“What are you going to do to me?” Alastor asked, high on adrenaline, yet curiously unafraid.

He should be, he knew, faced with the actual Devil, but he wasn’t. Instead, a curious excitement percolated in his veins, as potent as some kind of drug – like a hit of pure cocaine. Lucifer gently hiked his skirts higher until he reached the crux of his thighs, and for a long moment, both of them stared at the bared genitalia.

“Huh.” Alastor stated, more curious than perturbed at the sight.

“Very pretty.” Lucifer murmured with approval as his fingers fondled the thatch of curls concealing Alastor’s sex. The words felt like warm honey dissolved in milk, soothing and comforting. Alastor let out a quiet sigh.

“To answer your question, I am going to feast on these tender lips.” Lucifer’s tone was dark and full of promise.

“And the blood?” Alastor inquired, ignoring the subtle throbbing at the crux of his thighs.

“Virgin blood might be enough?” Lucifer jests, then huffs out a laugh when Alastor gives him an unamused glare for his troubles. “No sense of humor, I see. No worries. I might bite or scratch you a little. Would you like that?”

“I would like you to release me and be gone.”

“Yeah, well, you shouldn’t have summoned me, should you?”

“Is this the only way to get rid of you?”

“The tamest, for sure. And you won’t even have to lose your soul for it!”

“How kind of you.” Alastor drawled sarcastically.

“What can I say; you caught me in a good mood. Now be a good girl and relax for me.”

“Relax how?”

Lucifer grinned at him. “Lie down.”

“On the altar?” Alastor looked at him dubiously.

“That’s where offerings are typically made, yes.”

“The Devil, feasting on a lamb of God…” Alastor remarked, inwardly amused at the utter absurdity of the situation he was finding himself in.

“You’re not a lamb, my blood-dappled belle; you’re a doeling… a little goat.” Lucifer’s hands roved over Alastor’s thighs, leaving a chill in their wake. “You’re not of God either. You…are one of mine.”

Something about that word made Alastor moan softly. He lowered himself to his elbows, legs dangling over the edge of the altar as he gazed into those golden eyes, all but spellbound. He was to be a willing sacrifice for Lucifer – by his own hand, no less.

“What a beautifully obedient sister you make.” Lucifer crooned and placed a kiss on Alastor’s thigh. He barely dared breathe as the Devil caressed his legs, making him shiver. Eyes of molten gold stared up at him, wicked and delighted as Lucifer’s sinuous forked tongue flickered against his newly rearranged genitals. Alastor observed the way Lucifer’s eyes closed in pleasure as he breathed him in for a long moment, almost like he was savoring the scent.

Alastor gasped when Lucifer’s sinful tongue flicked against a particular, unfamiliar spot on his anatomy. He moaned, legs falling apart to better feel every forbidden, lascivious moment of it. The Devil hummed in pleasure, his hands caressing Alastor’s thighs and playing with the thin red ribbons holding his stockings up. Lush lips connected with his sex and Alastor’s vision nearly whited out when Lucifer began to suck – gently at first – then with the addition of his unholy tongue.

“Ah-ah!” Alastor began to pant, hands tied above his head rattling the chains while Lucifer devoured his flesh as was promised. Obscene noises drifted upon the dusty, frankincense-tinted air as Alastor stared up at the large wooden crucifix, trying to hold back the noises he was making by biting his lips. What was it about being in this altered form that heightened every sensation to the point of delirium?

“Mmmm, so wet already…” Lucifer purred in self-satisfaction.

“Enjoy despoiling virgins?” Alastor bit back, trying to catch Lucifer’s eye over his rumpled frock. It figured the Devil was an absolute deviant.

Lucifer laughed, a beautifully musical sound that echoed off the rafters – it sounded like the gates of heaven opening – like divine light spilling upon the clamoring hordes of the damned.

“I can’t say I often get the occasion to?” Lucifer said with fiendish amusement. “You are proving most delectable so far…” Then he made a ponderous noise. “Hmm…I wonder how your insides taste…”

Alastor’s stomach twisted at the threat – Lucifer had lied to him – he would tear into his flesh and eat him alive, but then – Lucifer’s tongue speared into him, as cruel and merciless as was a demon’s wont, and began scooping up the slick emissions he’d provoked. Alastor thrashed on the pristine altar cloth, feeling Lucifer’s slender fingers holding him down. Lucifer’s right hand grasped Alastor’s hip tighter, and the fingers of his left touched that infernally sensitive spot – it felt mind-alteringly good – like getting drunk on sacramental wine while using the host for some depraved occult ritual.

“Sing praises to me, little doeling,” Lucifer coaxed him, lips and chin gleaming wet in the dim light. The air was tinged with candle smoke and the scent of blood, and Alastor shuddered, expelling a dissolute moan the likes of which he’d often heard when passing by the brothels growing up. If this was the bliss women felt…that was well-worth a moan or two to whet the Devil’s appetite.

“Lucifer–” Alastor panted, voice turning whiny as Lucifer’s deft, demonic fingers caressed that hidden spot, over and over again, flooding his guts with warmth.

“Yes, darling, just like that…” Lucifer smirked and hitched one of Alastor’s legs over his shoulder before diving back into his cunt with relish.

Alastor cursed, his neatly trimmed nails biting into the meat of his palms. What would it feel like to touch the Devil – was his skin as smooth as it appeared? Was his golden hair, a perfect mockery of innocence, as invitingly soft?

His mouth – did it taste like sulfur and brimstone?

He got lost in the sensations, moaning freely like a cheap whore as Lucifer feasted on him as if he were his personal Last Supper. His insides constricted around Lucifer’s eager tongue – way too long to belong to a human – and Alastor felt a flush of warmth to his cheeks at the resulting chuckle. It was as if Lucifer knew exactly what he was doing to him, just how perfect it felt, just how eager Alastor was for more. He whined, high-pitched and desperate as Lucifer bred him with his tongue, Alastor’s cunt doing its best to milk his salivary glands dry. Lucifer moaned into his slippery quim, sucking at his juices like a man starved.

“Mmmmh,” Lucifer sighed in pleasure when he licked a luxurious stripe over Alastor’s slick-covered cunt. “Was that your first orgasm, sweet sister?”

Alastor looked down at those golden eyes, at that wicked, unrepentant smile and could only groan in response.

“I think this sweet little purse of yours needs filling… I don’t think my tongue fully satisfied you.”

Alastor panted, saliva pooling in his mouth. He wanted more, but couldn’t ask for it – wouldn’t give Lucifer the satisfaction of knowing the depth of the craving he had stirred in him.

“I like that hungry look in your eyes, sweetheart.” Lucifer purred, tone low and gravelly, making Alastor’s cunt constrict in want. “Let’s start with a few fingers, hmm?”

Alastor wanted to protest on principle, but when Lucifer’s index finger slid inside him, he only trembled. His nipples, oversensitized, chafed against the habit with every squirming motion of his hips.

“You like that, my pretty doeling?” Lucifer asked with a smirk, his perfect white teeth glinting in the dark, the sharp cut of his canines prominent.

Alastor refused to speak, but couldn’t stop the traitorous undulations of his hips. Lucifer was feeling him up from the inside, as if smugly and proudly inspecting his handiwork, and Alastor bit his lower lip hard to stop himself from begging for something more.

“You are getting tighter, my dear…” Lucifer crooned. “But I think there’s room in you for another finger, what do you think?”

Alastor’s mouth fell open on a lewd gasp as Lucifer pushed two fingers inside him with ease, the squelching sound disturbingly loud in the quiet church. He moaned, throwing his head back as Lucifer filled him with his index and middle fingers, over and over again, the obscene sounds echoing in Alastor’s ears.

“If I give you three, will you orgasm for me, darling? I’m already wet to the wrist…”

Alastor gurgled, vision filling with stars as Lucifer fucked him with three fingers, slick and sloppy, all with a beatific, evil little smile.

“Let’s see if your juices can drench my shirt to the elbow, sweet thing.” Lucifer coaxed, causing Alastor’s cunt to milk his fingers, sucking them in greedily.

Alastor moaned, thighs trembling as he felt a gush of liquid accompanied with that delicious feeling Lucifer provoked in him earlier.

“There we go, second climax of the night…” Lucifer said smugly as he pulled out his drenched hand.

To his consternation, Alastor noted that Lucifer’s fingers were pruned.

Lucifer looked him dead in the eye and started licking his hand clean, from wrist to the tip of his index finger. “Mmm, you taste delightful.”  Lucifer’s pupils dilated as he sucked the fingers into his mouth, licking Alastor’s juices away. “So much lust for one yet untouched…” He commented idly, looking almost drugged. “Tell me, would you like to fall apart on my cock?”

Alastor trembled, feeling overheated and wrecked, yet deeply unsatisfied for all that. Almost thirty years of dodging amorous advances, both male and female, only to end up like this, falling to pieces in the hands of the Devil himself, reduced to a sacrilegious offering mewling for more desecration. 

“I know it wasn’t technically part of the summoning, but your desire is very heady and I am feeling generous tonight.” Lucifer mused aloud, his forked tongue tasting the air. “Tell me.”

“Unchain me.” Alastor demanded.

Lucifer chuckled in delight. “Why would I? You paint such a pretty picture… Maybe if you asked me ‘pretty please, Father, fuck me until I scream’? How does that sound?”

It sounded both disgustingly depraved and indescribably delicious at the same time, but Alastor wasn’t one to beg, not even in the presence of fallen divinity.

“A proud one, aren’t you?” Lucifer said with much amusement. “I don’t dislike that.”

During his previous thrashing, Alastor’s veil had come loose, and he felt it slip off the altar, freeing his curls, now much longer, falling like a cascade down his shoulders.

“Ohhh…” Lucifer crawled half on top of him and took a lock of his hair to caress it between his fingers. “Striking – the white really sets off the warm brown.”

“You talk like you’ve never seen a brunette before.” Alastor scoffed, still shaking, refusing to admit to either of them the sudden, unbidden urge to taste the Devil’s mouth.

“I am used to blondes…” Lucifer remarked off-handedly. “But this is equally beautiful.”

“The color of mud.” Alastor grumbled.

“The color of fertile land. The color of clay humanity was fashioned out of. A good primordial color.” Lucifer stated with deep approval.

Alastor stared at Lucifer, his bright golden eyes, his porcelain complexion, at once similar to that of the oppressors and yet too alien this close to be mistaken for human – Lucifer had not a single wrinkle, blemish or scar – as perfectly sculpted as a marble statue. Alastor sat up as far as his fetters allowed him and captured Lucifer’s mouth for himself.

The devil uttered a surprised gasp, but then rallied and ran his fingers through Alastor’s long hair at the back of his neck to yank him up, holding him firmly as he kissed back for a long, feverish moment before pulling away with a smoldering look in his eyes.

“Would you like to taste yourself, little sinner?” He asked, tone full of promise.

Alastor opened his mouth, panting, hoping that was answer enough, and Lucifer licked at his lips, at his stuck out tongue. Alastor moaned as their tongues entwined, dizzy at the taste of his juices and something vaguely sweet, like slices of fresh apples drizzled with lemon juice.

Hell tasted good.

Their needy, desperate noises suffused the sacred space, sullying it with godless desire.

Alastor needed more. Who else could claim summoning the Prince of Darkness, the Father of Lies, The First of the Fallen? Who else could boast they fornicated with the Devil?

“Are you going to fuck me?” Alastor panted against Lucifer’s sinful mouth.

“What’s the magic word?” Lucifer asked, juvenile and merciless.

“Fuck me, Lucifer!” Alastor demanded, irate at being denied.

“Bold one, aren’t you?” Lucifer laughed, pulling at his hair in a way that made Alastor tingle all the way down to his toes. “Good enough. You’ve amused me.”

Alastor tried to fight the feeling of accomplishment and failed. He was never particularly weak for male praise, but there was something about Lucifer saying it that made it feel as pleasurable as slitting someone’s throat and watching them gurgle their last breath while the light faded from their eyes.

“On your knees, my doeling.” Lucifer said as he relinquished his hold on Alastor’s hair, leaving his scalp awash with pleasurable tingles.

Alastor gave him a resentful look, but only uttered a minor complaint as Lucifer flipped him over and hoisted him up on his knees. Alastor felt the habit slide down his back as Lucifer caressed his spine with his right hand.

“Such a beautiful offering,” Lucifer commented, his voice underscored with the rustle of fabric. “I must admit I prefer this over the sacrificial lambs of yore.”

Alastor stared at the opposite wall and the doors of the sacristy, their shadows elongated in the flickering candlelight. His breathing was quickened from the expectation – would it hurt? How well-endowed was the Devil? Women usually complained that it hurt the first time…

He felt a kiss between his shoulder blades, and Lucifer’s fingers trailing down his sides. Alastor moaned, his skin erupting with goosebumps, each touch feeling like a fiery trail left branded into his skin. He could feel the tension melting away under Lucifer’s seductive ministrations, leaving him panting softly against the pristine white altar cloth. 

“I should have put a corporal under you… but I think getting the altar linen dirty is already amusing enough.”

“I’m hardly the Sacred Host.” Alastor rolled his eyes.

Lucifer laughed. “No, I don’t think that was ever in doubt… Former altar boy?”

“Yes.” Alastor panted, mouth watering as he watched their shadows across the wall, bathing the church in blasphemous pictograms. “My mother insist– ah!” He moaned as Lucifer breached him with something about as wide as his fingers.

“Still so wet for me…” Lucifer drawled, kneading Alastor’s ass.

It was just the tip, Alastor realized, his hips undecided whether they should move forward and away from the intrusion, or backwards to swallow it whole. Lucifer took the decision from him by gently sliding forward, inch by delicious inch, making Alastor gasp in pleasure.

“Pretty thing, come to me.” Lucifer suggested in a lewd tone full of wicked promise. “Move with me.”

Operating more on instinct than anything else, Alastor’s hips snapped backwards and he filled himself, noting somewhere in the back of his brain that not only did it not hurt in any way, it felt like liquid, distilled bliss.

“Yessss,” Lucifer hissed, sounding like a snake. He grasped Alastor’s hips and drove into him, with a kind of gentle savagery that left Alastor moaning and drooling into the altar linen. He couldn’t do much except try to hold onto the edge of the altar with his manacled hands and whine like a harlot.

“That good, hmm?” Lucifer commented lightly as he kept fucking him, the wet, squelching sounds of their fornication permeating the sacred space. “You are so receptive, sweetheart, taking me so well…”

Alastor had no idea what was compelling Lucifer to keep up the running commentary, but the filthy praise was making his cunt clench and his toes curl. He moved with Lucifer as fluidly as he could, his hips snapping back with impatience, chasing the delightful sensations.

“Mmm, good girl.” Lucifer purred as he stroked his back in encouragement.

Alastor could hear his whorish moans echoing off the rafters, his face buried in the altar linen which was becoming soaked with his drool. It felt so indescribably debauched yet so profoundly satisfying to get filled over and over again, the scent of frankincense becoming overpowered by the smell of sex; the air saturated with the sound of their thighs slapping together.

“I will give you my seed, sweet sister, would you like that?”

Alastor groaned at the lurid suggestion, hips swiveling to better take in the devil’s fat cock.

“I’ll take that as a yes… look at you, you got me all wet…” Lucifer said in a strained voice, hips snapping faster.

Alastor whined, feeling close, so infernally close to some kind of dizzying precipice and looked up at their shadows dancing across the wall. Lucifer growled behind him, a guttural sound that Alastor could feel all the way down to his bones – a sound that could have only been made by a beast spawned in the bowels of Hell. Alastor stared, transfixed as the shadow on the wall bloomed – three pairs of majestic wings spreading far and wide from the devil’s slender form – burning into his eyes like a solar eclipse.

Alastor whimpered at this illicit glimpse of the divine, clenching viciously around Lucifer’s spurting cock, feeling the spray of his semen splashing against his quivering walls.

Lucifer’s melodious voice turned entirely demonic as he whispered filth into Alastor’s ear: “Milk me harder, darling – let me fill you up.”

Alastor made a noise so lewd he could feel himself blushing and thrashed on Lucifer’s cock as stars exploded behind his eyelids.

“What a long orgasm, my doll, isn’t that lovely?” Lucifer praised, not stopping to give Alastor a reprieve, his insistent thrusts drawing out the pleasure that was beginning to turn almost painful. Alastor wanted to cry, helpless to do anything but enjoy Lucifer’s attention, the buzzing in his ears building up persistently. Everything in him went still and quiet when Lucifer let out a subdued, shuddering moan before ejaculating inside Alastor a second time, the semen squirting out around his still firm cock only to dribble onto the altar cloth.

Alastor collapsed fully onto his belly, panting breathlessly, skin flushed and almost feverish. With a rustle of feathers, the shadow wings vanished and Lucifer lay down on top of him to place a soft little kiss to his earlobe, all without pulling out.

“Tired already, treasure?” Lucifer purred sweetly into his ear. “Mind if I breed you a little more?”

“What am I, a cow?” Alastor retorted, feeling languid and mostly sated, but enjoying both the weight of Lucifer’s slim body on top of his, as well as the deep pressure of his cock, still buried to the hilt.

“Doeling.” Lucifer whispered to remind him. “My sweetly bleating little doeling.”

Alastor’s cunt clenched at the depraved term of endearment and he squirmed with interest despite his fatigue.

Lucifer purred, his voice back to its angelic timbre. “Who’s a good little girl?”

“I’m thirty-seven,” Alastor grumbled. “Haven’t been a little anything in a very long time.”

“You are all children compared to me, little sinner.” Lucifer sing-songed in his ear and then languidly, excruciatingly slowly, ground into Alastor’s well used cunt.

It hit Alastor then that he was dealing with a primordial being that existed long before humanity’s inception. If Lucifer kept filling him up, could it take? Angels and humans were rumored to have interbred long ago, was that possible? If left permanently in this state, could he bear the Devil’s child?

Give birth to the Antichrist and bring about the destruction of the world?

An enthusiastic, enthralled moan passed his lips as Lucifer pulsed inside him, making good on his promise to breed him thoroughly.

“Mmm, feels almost too good to stop…” Lucifer lamented, his forked tongue flicking against the shell of his ear.

Alastor didn’t want it to stop, not when every movement, every word made him want to forsake his sacraments.

“It’s almost dawn…” Lucifer drawled in a knowing, deeply mischievous voice. “People will be coming by…are you sure you have the time to dispose of the dead priest in your state?”

Alastor groaned, his erect nipples rubbing against the bunched-up habit. He wasn’t sure he could even walk straight, let alone haul a fat corpse around back into the freshly dug grave he’d prepared.

Lucifer chuckled, sensing his predicament astutely. “I could get rid of the mess for you… blood, corpse, sigil... For a small fee, of course.” He said and pulled out abruptly, punching out a drooling moan from Alastor and prompting a small deluge to run down his thighs, soaking into his pretty white stockings and dripping all over the altar.

“What fee?” Alastor asked, voice wrecked but no less skeptical for it.

“A deal – a little tit for tat – you know how that goes.”

“I’d have to be really stupid to make a deal with the literal Devil.” Alastor observed. His wrists were starting to hurt.

“Aww, you poor thing, did I keep you restrained for too long?” Lucifer asked as if he’d just read his mind. “I think you behaved wonderfully for me, I should reward you for it.”

With a soft breeze, Alastor’s golden fetters disappeared. He felt cold, slender fingers sliding under his torso and lifting him up to his knees.

“You’re dripping, my lovely, making such a mess over the sacred linens…” Lucifer purred in delight and pressed a lingering kiss to Alastor’s neck. It made him shiver, tingles of pleasure skittering down his skin. Lucifer’s hands roved under his soiled, rumpled habit, caressing his ribs and coming around his front to cup his tender breasts.

“What do you want for that favor?” Alastor asked, fighting against the distraction.

“Oh, a mere trifle, really.”

“I am not giving you my soul.” Alastor declared with more vehemence than he felt.

Lucifer laughed into his hair. “I have no need for your soul, fallen doe. You may keep it.”

“What then?” Alastor asked sarcastically. “Would you like my firstborn?”

Lucifer burst into a fit of laughter, squeezing his breasts gently, then pinching his nipples for good measure. “A most tempting offer, to be sure, but the only thing keeping you in this shape is my presence. The moment I leave, so does your womb, my dear.”

Alastor bit his lower lip, knowing deep down Lucifer must have seen right through him.

“No,” Lucifer said lightly. “Instead of leaving you with my spawn, I would prefer to avail myself of the rest of you.”

“In what way?” Alastor panted, arousal pooling in his gut once more.

“Fill your mouth – your pretty backside… what do you say? Do we have a deal?” Lucifer said enticingly.

“Fill? What with?” Alastor asked, sensing potential for unseemly and deeply unhygienic things.

“My cock, what else? My fingers too, if needed. My tongue, should I feel so inclined.”

“Your seed?” Alastor asked, feeling overheated and needy.

Lucifer purred against his ear. “Would you like that, greedy thing?”

“Yes.” Alastor panted like a bitch in heat. “Yes.”

“Do we have a deal?” Lucifer’s voice dripped with promise of things most unholy and depraved.

Alastor looked up at the crucifix, at their Lord and Savior’s suffering face and knew he was going against everything his mother tried so hard to make him believe in – the virtues she so painstakingly attempted to instill – all in vain. Eyes burning with defiance, he yelled out an exuberant: “Yes!”

Lucifer leaned in closer and purred out a filthy, drawled out: “Good girl.”

Alastor bit back a moan, fingers twitching with need to grasp at something. He reached for Lucifer’s roving hands, fingers skimming cool skin, the ghosting touch over his breasts making him shiver. Between one blink and the next, Lucifer appeared in front of him, eyes at half-mast, sultry and desirous. Alastor was momentarily overtaken with confusion because he could still feel Lucifer pressed against his back, his hands kneading and playing with his breasts, his lips pressed against his neck, yet here he was before him, eyes ablaze with dark desire, as fully corporeal as the form behind him.

“Did you think I was confined to only one form, doll?” Lucifer chuckles. “How cute.”

Alastor whined as Lucifer used both of his forms to manipulate his flesh into helpless arousal – from behind, kisses and deft fingers toying with his stiffened nipples, and from the front, hands grasping at his stocking-clad thighs. Alastor panted, staring at the open placket of Lucifer’s undone trousers, at his aching, straining cock. It was as pale as a carving made from precious ivory, painted with a mild golden flush.

“You made me very dirty, sweetheart.” Lucifer scolded him like an indulgent parent. “Why don’t you lick me clean?”

Alastor could feel saliva pooling in his mouth at the thought and went down on all fours as obediently as a trained hound. The hands fell away from his breasts to trail down his spine. He stared at the Devil’s large cock with slack-jawed wonder, trying to parse how it had managed to fit inside him – how it could possibly fit up his backside without maiming him.

Lucifer gathered his errant curls and held them in a loose fist.

“Go on, sister. Take the communion you so desperately need.” Lucifer encouraged, eyes blazing molten gold in the shadowed church. His cock slid against Alastor’s gaunt cheek almost lovingly.

Alastor opened his mouth and licked at Lucifer’s turgid length, a depraved moan spilling past his lips as the taste of semen intermingled with his juices washed over his taste buds. His eyes closed and he allowed Lucifer to guide his thick cock into his willing mouth.

“Could you be more perfect?” Lucifer drawled before him as he fed Alastor with the rest of his throbbing cock. “What a darling slut you make.” The words dripped with approval, heady and profound, making Alastor tingle with pleasure. Muted, he could feel the other Lucifer's fingers spreading his hole open.

Alastor moaned whorishly as he felt a sinuous, forked tongue breaching his tight sphincter while the cock slid deeper into his mouth, stuffing him full. He writhed from being stimulated on both ends, letting out choked little whimpers that made Lucifer coo with endearment. 

“You like my tongue where it is, sister?”

Alastor couldn’t respond with anything other than eager swivels of his hips and garbled, slurping groans.

“Hmm… I cannot breach you like this… I'll need to slick you up somehow… oh!” Lucifer exclaimed lazily as his fingers tightened in Alastor’s hair. “We're in a church! There must be some holy oil lying around...”

Alastor’s cunt clenched at the thought. Holy oils were kept under lock and key in a cabinet in the sacristy – which would need to be broken into…

The door to the sacristy creaked open and then shut.

“Chrism Oil! Perfect. It would be downright morbid to fuck you with the Oil of the Sick…” Lucifer chuckled darkly and Alastor whined as the tongue pulled out of his clenching asshole. He couldn’t hear anything past the lewd slurping of his lips caressing the Devil’s cock, but it wasn't long before Lucifer’s slender fingers coated liberally in holy oil breached him once more.

Alastor gasped and choked on Lucifer’s shaft, overwhelmed by the dexterous and sinful wriggle of fingers inside him.

“Sloppy, darling. Still, A for effort?” Lucifer teased him, smug and superior as only the Devil was allowed to be.

Alastor was overwhelmed with sensations Lucifer was drowning him in – the crooning, naughty encouragements, the sting of his hair being pulled, the feeling of his ass being stretched out for Lucifer’s carnal pleasure – it made him slaver and moan like a mindless hussy.

“Are you ready to be turned on a spit, pretty doeling?” Lucifer asked. “You see, I am hungry and I don't think I can wait much longer.”

The words were infused with so much raw desire that it made Alastor’s head spin.

“Mmmhm.” He mumbled his assent as elegantly as he was able with his mouth so thoroughly preoccupied, making Lucifer purr in approval.

Deft fingers spread his cheeks apart and Alastor could feel the oil-slickened tip of Lucifer’s cock nudging against his entrance. Both Lucifers moaned in tandem as Alastor was breached, the noise identical. It hurt – this time it definitely hurt, and Alastor winced, trying to move away from the intrusion.

“Patience…” The Lucifer in front of him soothed as the one in the back stilled, his cock buried half-way in Alastor’s clenched hole. “Focus on your mouth.” Lucifer instructed.  “Am I heavy on your tongue?”

Alastor hummed mindlessly, feeling his saliva dripping down his chin.

“I see I'm not the only one hungry here…” Lucifer smirked, words both coaxing and encouraging at the same time.

Alastor redoubled his efforts, greedily sucking until Lucifer shuddered and put his hand on Alastor’s throat. Warmth spread out from his touch and Alastor’s muscles went lax. He cried out as Lucifer burrowed deeper on both ends. The sensation of having his guts thoroughly rearranged was at once peculiar and incendiary – his body reduced to raw sensation – used for the Devil’s pleasure. Alastor could barely breathe as Lucifer’s spit-slicked member slid into his relaxed throat, breaching him with a satisfied groan and exploded inside him, flooding his mouth with cool seed. Alastor choked but swallowed on reflex, excess dribbling down his chin as he tried to catch his breath, mouth stuffed completely full.

“Ah, mmn.” Lucifer panted, briefly overcome with pleasure. “I knew you could swallow me whole.” His fingers carded comfortingly through Alastor’s hair as he slowly pulled out, his erection stubbornly unflagging despite another copious climax. “Are you done, my dear?”

“No,” Alastor said, unthinking.

“How fortuitous. I was thinking the same.” Lucifer remarked, pulling Alastor up.

They stared at each other for a long moment before Alastor threw his hands around Lucifer’s neck and dove in for a kiss. Their lips met, feverish warm and spit-slicked and Alastor almost sobbed as Lucifer fucked into him from behind, not allowing for any rest. The kiss was filthy and uncoordinated, Alastor moaning as Lucifer’s forked tongue curled against his, chasing his own taste in Alastor’s abused mouth.

Alastor gasped as he was hoisted up, held by the twinned Devil like some kind of shared prize, and mounted on a luscious pair of cocks. He let out a sobbing cry as he got stuffed in perfect tandem, unable to do anything but whimper helplessly and take every last inch.

And, oh, were there a lot of inches to take, sliding eagerly into his overheated, deliciously used body. Lucifer whined against his mouth, only breaking the kiss to offer mindless, seemingly sincere praise.

“So good… so warm.” Lucifer panted between kisses. “Milk me dry, pretty thing, go on.”

Alastor felt himself clench as a vicious orgasm was wrenched from him and Lucifer fucked him through it, relentless and powerful, his stamina seemingly inexhaustible. The kiss fully broke and Alastor stared down, displeased that he couldn't see where they were joined. He yanked his habit up, exposing his breasts in the process and his mouth fell open at the sight of a slight bulge to his belly. Fascinated, Alastor touched it with the fingertips of his right hand. How could Lucifer be this deep without injuring him?

“Like the way I fill you, precious?” Lucifer teased him.

Alastor nodded , temporarily beyond words.

“Look at you.” The Devil cooed. “So eager for a good breeding.”

“Lucifer…” Alastor called out his name, his voice utterly wrecked from their previous activities. He couldn’t string a coherent sentence together, not while Lucifer was holding him up and bouncing him like some kind of toy. With his right hand he tried to feel the tip on Lucifer’s cock in his belly, and his left tangled in Lucifer’s blonde hair.

It was softer than the finest silk.

Lucifer’s eyes glowed gold and a pair of slender crimson horns emerged from his forehead.

Alastor's breath hitched. Lucifer’s beauty was humbling – absolutely devastating. 

He could only whimper as Lucifer buried himself impossibly deep and filled him, both of his cocks spurting generously inside him, stretching him to his absolute limit.

Lucifer’s gaze was luminous as he asked in a deceptively casual tone: “Do you believe in God, darling?”

Feeling languid and sleepy despite being stuffed to the brim and barely able to move, Alastor said evenly: “I do now.”

“Audacious.” Lucifer purred, deeply pleased with Alastor’s response.

He had renounced the one above quite thoroughly, hadn't he, Alastor thought to himself.

“Only blood left, my sweet.” Lucifer murmured almost wistfully, like he was sad to let him go.

Alastor closed his eyes in pleasure as Lucifer kissed him, going completely pliant in his arms. He didn't even hiss as Lucifer bit his lower lip and licked at the bead of crimson that welled up, two pairs of hands bringing him down to bear onto Lucifer’s lingering arousal. Alastor whined softly as Lucifer suckled on his split lip, his hands roving over Lucifer’s chest, his shoulders, his arms – mindless yet eager in his desire to feel that this wasn’t some feverish dream conjured by his overactive imagination while he was high on adrenaline from a fresh kill.

Lucifer caressed his neck as he offered one last, lingering kiss.

“I have feasted on your flesh and blood.” Lucifer declared solemnly, his eyes bright and heady like a golden chalice full of fragrant wine. “Your end of the bargain has been fulfilled.”

Alastor whined when Lucifer retreated, leaving him sprawled out upon the altar, lying in his rumpled, thoroughly desecrated habit. Lucifer’s twin vanished, leaving only one of him, standing in front of the altar, perfectly presentable and passably human.

“Now it's time I fulfill mine.”

With a snap of his fingers, the corpse of the slain priest vanished, along with the bloody sigil, the chair, and the knife.

“Wait!” Alastor called out in panic, unwilling to let him go like this – so quickly.

“Hmm?” Lucifer murmured, visibly sated.

“The altar is still a mess.” Alastor said, unable to say what he truly wanted.

“Oh yes.” Lucifer purred. “A delightful mess left for the clergy. I bet they will be most upset that someone had defiled their altar in such a despicable manner.”

“I can barely move, you can't leave me like this!” Alastor exclaimed accusingly, hoping to make Lucifer linger, however briefly.

“Hm.” Lucifer produced a speculative noise. “I suppose that would be quite uncharitable of me… very well. I suppose you deserve a reward for being such a good sport.”

Lucifer conjured a square of white cloth out of nothing and strolled to the stoup at the entrance of the church to drench it in holy water.

“I thought holy water burned demons.” Alastor remarked, confused.

Lucifer chuckled as he wrung out the cloth, hands drenched in the stuff and clearly unharmed. “I have more divinity in me than the entirety of the human race, little doeling. Why would it burn?”

Alastor had no response to that and could only stare in a daze as Lucifer returned to his side and began to wipe his soiled thighs and genitals with the cool cloth. Alastor felt dizzy – to be cleaned in holy water after a thorough despoiling by the Devil himself – wasn’t it simply perverse beyond belief? Worst of all, Lucifer was thorough, taking his time, his hands lingering over Alastor’s overheated skin, caressing it with something approaching reverence – or appreciation at the very least. Perhaps in acknowledgment of the virtue he had so eagerly, vigorously stolen.

“There, all better.” Lucifer murmured softly, bestowing a cryptic smile that Alastor couldn’t decipher. He watched in amazement as Lucifer twirled his fingers, floating the dirtied cloth to the crucifix, where he dumped it like a veil over the face of Jesus Christ.

“My God.” Alastor laughed.

“I doubt he cares.” Lucifer muttered, his grin sharp and distinctly unfriendly.

Alastor looked him in the eye from his prone position, thighs still aquiver.

“I wasn't referring to Him.”

“Oh?” Lucifer drawled in amusement. “Who were you referring to, then?”

“You,” Alastor said with unwavering conviction. “You’re the only God who ever listened to my prayers.”

Lucifer’s gaze was smoldering like a bonfire threatening to burn down an entire town. Could he tell those weren’t just empty words? Discern that Alastor was honest in his assessment, grateful for the chance encounter?  A lazy smile bloomed on Lucifer’s immaculate features, seemingly pleased by the tribute. He cooed and leaned in to caress Alastor’s cheek.

“Well, aren’t you sweet.” Lucifer purred. “I never caught your name, pity… Ah, well. I'm sure I'll see you in Hell – eventually.” With that, Lucifer vanished without a trace – the only thing left in his wake a tinkling, sweetly demonic laughter that lingered in the air like the sweetest myrrh.

“My name–!” Alastor cried out, knowing it was too late for Lucifer to hear. “–is Alastor…”

Disoriented for a moment, he lay down and trembled, his body stretching and flexing for an agonizing second or two before he was back to his own self, the seed he'd been stuffed with dribbling out of him. He felt an ache in places he no longer had access to and was startled to realize that his cock, upon reappearing after being missing in action for the entirety of the encounter, was achingly hard. Knowing he didn't have time to dawdle, lest he get caught with his pants down in a desecrated church, Alastor grasped his erection firmly and tugged at it, unable to relinquish the memories still so fresh in his mind.

Lucifer’s burning eyes.

His knowing smile.

His wicked laughter.

“Lucifer!” He cried out for one last time before spilling all over his frock, shuddering upon the altar like a newborn foal.

He wasn’t ready to die, but if his God was waiting for him down below, Alastor might as well descend in style. He would send as many wretches to the basement as possible, and then…

Lucifer would surely reward him.

Alastor wondered, were there any churches in Hell?

It was such a pity about the Antichrist, but oh well.

You couldn't win them all.