Archive of Our Own

It wasn't often that Alastor found himself lost for words.

On this occasion, as with so many others, lately – Lucifer was once again the culprit. The one who'd tugged their conversation to a screeching halt. And that was quite a literal interpretation, considering the screech of microphone feedback Alastor had emitted in his shock.

He stared, frozen, at the man who'd clambered onto his lap to press kisses along his jaw and down his neck, even as Alastor was regaling him with a most interesting tale of a sinner he'd hunted down that day. In his mind, he lifted the needle on the record of his memory and turned it back, replaying the last few moments to make sure he hadn't somehow been hallucinating.

“I bet I could make you beg.”

No – no, he wasn't losing his mind. Lucifer had said that to him. Had muttered the words into his neck, roaming hands and teeth and tongue putting in a concerted effort to distract Alastor from the story of how wonderfully his prey had begged to be able to keep their life.

A crackling laugh started somewhere deep in Alastor's chest, winding its way up until it emerged as an incredulous snort; a hiss of static between his teeth. Lucifer's expression had already gone from lecherous to surprised, as if even he hadn't expected the words that had dripped from his silver tongue.

Now it fell to petulant. Sulky. Strong brows creased and his lips turned down, turning that pretty face into a picture of offended disappointment.

“I could,” Lucifer insisted. As if this were a brand new hill he'd laid eyes on, and he was determined to scale its heights and defend it to his last breath.

Alastor huffed a laugh again.

“And what are you going to make me beg for? To be spared your inane prattle? To not be forced to sit through another awkward double date with your daughter and her paramour? Because whilst I can see myself asking for such a thing, I don't believe I would ever be reduced to something so low as begging,” Alastor shot back with a smirk, trying to suppress another snort at the expression on Lucifer's face.

His ears twisted forward and his tail twitched against his back when that look of irritation melted away – to be replaced by something altogether devious.

Devilish, one might say.

“I could make you beg to come,” Lucifer muttered, the corners of his lips curving up into a smile as he leant forward, one hand coming up to curl long claws around the base of an ear. Alastor shivered as warm breath ghosted over the sensitive skin just below the line of his jaw, Lucifer's mouth poised teasingly above the flesh of his throat.

“Come? Come where?” Alastor asked, his static curling in confusion until a high pitched, ringing sound buzzed tinnily around the room. Of all the things Lucifer could have said, he somehow hadn't expected a trip to be high on that list.

It was Lucifer's turn to snort a laugh, the blast of air against Alastor's neck making him jolt.

“Not come somewhere – just... just come,” Lucifer grinned, pulling back and sliding his free hand between the pair of them, cupping Alastor's decidedly uninterested dick through the front of his slacks.

A beat of silence passed. Alastor smiled blankly back at the other man, trying valiantly to keep the mad cackle bubbling away in his stomach from bursting into the room.

“My dear. That is an infrequent occurrence, even now. And when it does happen, you're more likely to be the one requesting it than I. What makes you think anything you could do would reduce me to begging you to cause it?” Alastor asked through his indulgent smile, fond even now of Lucifer's strange way of thinking.

He could be a foolish sort of man, sometimes. But he was Alastor's.

“Not cause it. Let you,” Lucifer murmured as he ducked in once more, muttering the words against Alastor's lips. Mere millimetres away, and an unexpected shudder ran down Alastor's spine at the promise of a kiss that wasn't happening.

“Intriguing,” he answered back, his voice just as low. It truly did sound as if Lucifer had a plan of some kind, and Alastor was somewhat fascinated to learn what it was. “But quite pointless. Begging for an orgasm is something I've never done, and never will do.”

His stomach twisted when Lucifer closed the minute distance between their mouths, crushing his lips to Alastor's hard enough that one of the sinner's teeth pressed against his lower lip – and the sharp iron tang of blood mixed with his saliva. A staticky sound of appreciation crept from his throat, Lucifer's tongue darting into his mouth and behind his teeth. As if he wanted to consume that sound, along with the faint taste of blood that had provoked it.

Alastor's cheeks were slightly flushed, his lids sitting heavy over his eyes when Lucifer pulled back. The king's own sharp teeth flashed in a challenging smile, the man shedding his foolishness and awkwardness in favour of donning the cloak of confidence – that prideful look he'd worn so well when Alastor had first met him, when he'd first risen to Lucifer’s bait.

“Wanna bet?”

Alastor's own smile stretched slightly wider. There was a dark kind of excitement flashing behind Lucifer's yellow eyes, and his own blood hummed in answer, sparks of adrenaline heating his skin as his tail lowered. The body of a prey animal responding to the unmistakably predatory glint showing on that sweet face – and it would be a reckless thing indeed to forget that, despite his sometimes bumbling nature...

This was the Devil.

“What are the terms?”

* * * * * *

Lucifer couldn't even begin to say how many stories about making deals with him existed – and he could count on one hand how many of them weren’t cautionary tales. Really, it shouldn’t surprise him; humans had a strange need to blame him for their mistakes, so it was only natural that they would think making a deal with Lucifer always meant that they would “lose” in the end.

Of course, there was truth to every rumor – including that one.

The terms of the bet were simple: Lucifer had exactly 24 hours to make Alastor beg. As long as he didn’t cross any of Alastor’s boundaries and listened for the Overlord’s safe word, he would have free reign to do whatever he pleased. And boy, did he take advantage of that; he didn’t even let Alastor leave their shared room without a special little something to help him through the Overlord meeting.

At first glance, one would think that the chastity belt Lucifer had oh-so-sweetly coaxed him into wearing would run counter to Lucifer’s goal. After all, making anyone beg usually involved a lot more teasing and touching than what a chastity belt would allow, let alone someone as proud and prudish as Alastor. But Lucifer was nothing if not a craftsman – and like all good craftsmen, he was very creative.

Golden eyes glanced at the clock just above his desk. The Overlord meeting had started approximately seven minutes ago, meaning that soon enough, it would be time for Lucifer to strike. The King of Hell watched, eyes narrowing as he watched the second hand tick closer, closer, closer, and—

There.

Wetting his lips, Lucifer grinned as he leaned forward, anticipation curling hot at the base of his spine. He lifted one hand and slid two fingers into his mouth, curling his forked tongue around them and coating them thoroughly with spit. Once he was satisfied, he pulled them out with a small pop before snapping his fingers and adding an extra layer of lube, just in case.

If he was going to do this, then he best do this properly.

With a flick of his wrist, he opened a portal in front of him. His pulse fluttered wildly as he inhaled the scent already wafting out of the portal – fresh cut grass, smoked wood, and the faintest hint of petrichor. Alastor. A summer wind given life.

From the sound of things, one of the Overlords was droning on about something that Lucifer gave absolutely zero shits about, meaning that the meeting was well underway. That was good – Lucifer wanted to make sure he had the worst timing possible. With a small chuckle, Lucifer slid his lubricated index finger into the portal, his grin turning predatory when he met warm, soft skin.

He couldn't see what Alastor was doing on the other side of the portal, but he could certainly imagine it: his lover was likely somewhere in the middle of the council table, hands folded neatly in front of him, perhaps sharing a joke or bit of gossip with Rosie. He would be smiling, of course, and maybe even going so far as to rib whatever unfortunate member of that one trio he hated happened to be in the meeting. But despite Alastor’s easy grin, Lucifer was almost certain there would be a tension in his shoulders that wasn’t there before – an anticipation of what would soon be inflicted upon him.

Lucifer’s finger slowly circled Alastor’s entrance. The Overlord tensed in response, his puckered hole twitching as he sensed Lucifer’s presence. But there was no movement of Alastor’s legs, no shuffle in his seat. It was almost as though he didn’t notice Lucifer at all. The King of Hell chuckled softly to himself at the thought.

Alastor was good, but not good enough.

The moment he heard Alastor begin talking, Lucifer pressed his finger forward, the tip breaching Alastor’s tight ring of muscle. Alastor’s voice stuttered, his words faltering for a fraction of a second before he recovered, continuing his biting remark that caused the Overlords around him to chuckle.

Lucifer remained undeterred. He added a second finger, scissoring them gently to stretch Alastor open. The Radio Demon’s breath hitched again, the table creaking slightly as his claws tightened around its edges. Lucifer smirked as he felt the tremors running through Alastor’s body, the way his muscles clenched and unclenched around his digits. Beautiful, intoxicating heat pooled low in his stomach, his cock slowly filling out.

“Look at you, clenching up around me,” Lucifer taunted, using a little waggle of magic to send the message straight to Alastor’s mind. “Doing so well, aren’t you? But I know you, Al. I can feel how much you want to squirm. What do you think, Bambi? Are you ready to come yet?”

No response – though it wasn’t like Lucifer was expecting one. He was sure Alastor was throwing all kinds of insults his way at this point. Probably something about how if Lucifer truly thought this “pathetic attempt at coaxing the request out” would actually work, he was more delusional than Heaven had ever thought.

He was also pretty sure that Alastor was at least a little surprised that he’d up the ante so quickly. Then again, what did the guy expect? Lucifer had summoned an entire mountain of caviar to try pleasing Charlie after all those years of absence. He was just the sort of guy to bring a bulldozer to a hammer fight. Go big, go home, or don’t come, as he literally just made up.

Still, it was impressive just how stubborn Alastor was. The guy didn’t even squirm, even as Lucifer continued to stroke along his inner walls, his slick coated fingers sliding against what he knew to be all the right spots. Alastor’s walls twitched slightly as Lucifer moved, but they didn’t clench down – they never did. Hell, Lucifer wouldn’t have been surprised if Alastor’s dick hadn’t even moved after all of this.

That just meant he had to up the ante even more.

As he added a third finger, tiny snippets of whatever that one lady – Carmen? Carly? Carina? – was talking about filtered into Lucifer’s room. Not wanting Alastor to be paying too much attention to her, Lucifer grinned and pushed in even further, all the way up to the knuckle. The answering whine of feedback and gouge of wood was all he needed for more heat to curl down his spine.

Fuck, what did Alastor look like now? Was he ramrod straight, twin spots of colour high on his cheeks, desperately gripping onto the table in an attempt to keep himself grounded? Was he desperately fighting against the need to squirm and whine as arousal curled low in his guts? Every eye on the room was probably on him now, judging from the fact that Marcella was no longer talking about territory disputes. And Father in Heaven, he could practically taste the way Alastor’s cock was no doubt filling out and pressing up against that chastity belt Lucifer had him wear for this day.

Lucifer chuckled low at thought. His fingers stilled, resting almost lazily in Alastor’s stretched hole. Let him sit here, let his rim throb around the stretch of the King of Hell’s claws. It’d just serve as a reminder of who Alastor truly belonged to.

“Do you disagree with this assessment?” Carmelina’s voice floated down through the portal, muffled by the lovely expanse of Alastor’s ass.

“Disagree? Why, no. It's simply always been amusing to me, the way you all act as if you have a territory worth defending. Why, I'd half expect to see some of you out on the streets, pissing on lamps to make sure everyone knows it's yours.”

Oh, he couldn’t let this chance slide. Without warning, Lucifer withdrew his fingers until just the tip brushed Alastor’s rim before thrusting them roughly back in. The slap of his hand’s heel against Alastor’s ass echoed through his room, no doubt audible to everyone present.

Alastor jolted, his static skipping mid-laugh. His hole twitched around Lucifer’s fingers. Before the Radio Demon could get too comfortable, though, Lucifer repeated the motion, his own hand trailing down to palm his clothed cock when he felt Alastor jolt again.

Adam was right about one thing: Hell was forever, whether you liked it or not. And Lucifer had just found the most exquisite way to remind Alastor of that. And thus, he continued thrusting, now viciously striking Alastor’s prostate with everything he had.

His dear deer was growing frustrated – it was easy to tell. It was in the way his walls undulated around Lucifer’s fingers, and in the way his hole twitched with every motion, as if unable to decide whether to clench or stretch even more. Again, Lucifer pictured in his mind’s eye just how red Alastor was, with cheeks so splotchy they were likely the colour of his hair.

He hoped that Alastor liked the belt too. There was zero doubt in Lucifer’s mind that the Radio Demon’s dick was stirring now. The belt would apply pressure onto the organ, preventing him from becoming fully erect. It would cause him to ache in ways that he’d never ached before, making him desperate to get it off.

“I would appreciate everyone's full attention. Even those of you who do not hold territory of your own—” the woman’s voice paused, likely because she was giving Alastor a pointed look – all while he was being finger-fucked by the Devil. “—Could benefit by learning the boundaries of those who do.”

Alastor didn’t answer right away – probably too busy swallowing around the saliva no doubt pooling thick in his throat. Lucifer’s smirk widened as he leaned forward, still happily savoring the vibrations that seemed to dance around Alastor’s frame. Once again, he projected his voice straight to Alastor’s mind.

”Ready to ask me to let you come, yet?”

A staticky, derisive noise answered him. Followed by a long pause, likely Alastor trying to find the most opportune moment to speak. He couldn’t project his voice the way Lucifer could… but that was fine. The wait made Lucifer’s cock throb all the more, sending a dark thrill running up his spine.

“Ha! You wish.”

Lucifer just answered with a hum and undid his zipper, freeing his cock from its confines. Using one hand, he toyed with his head, drawing a bead of pearly fluid from the slit. With the other, he gave Alastor one final stroke along his inner walls, making sure to rub against every inch of tissue before withdrawing.

He wasn’t about to just give up now.

The toy appeared in his hand with a snap of his fingers – deep red, bejeweled at the base, and tapered at the end. He made sure to cover it in lube as well. Without warning, he pressed the buttplug’s tip against Alastor’s hole, giving his own cock a rewarding squeeze when a record scratch rent the air.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, Lucifer pressed it inside, watching with glee as the Overlord’s rim clenched down around the narrowest part of the plug before slowly stretching out to accommodate its thicker shaft. Static hummed down the object, but Lucifer kept pushing it in, stroking himself even faster as Alastor’s hole greedily swallowed it whole. When the base finally touched skin, Lucifer removed his hand and sat back, still toying with his cock. Then, he closed the portal.

“Just a little present to make sure you don't forget me. I'm gonna win this bet, Alastor.”

* * * * * *

The kitchen was a sanctuary – or at least, he liked to pretend it was one. There was something about leaving the chaos of Hell and coming here after Overlord meetings that brought an odd sense of peace to Alastor’s day. He often used the time to vent his frustrations, cook a fine meal, and even work on his posture. It would never do for Hell to erode one of his finest traits, after all.

Unforunately, there were plenty of other habits living in Hell for so long had ingrained in him. If by “habit” he meant the entirely ridiculous choice he’d made sleeping with Lucifer. The faint pressure of the chastity belt around his hips was a clear reminder of that, along with the burning pressure of the plug nestle within him.

Damn him. Damn the Devil. Damn this entire situation.

“Long day?” A familiar tenor asked from behind.

Alastor stiffened immediately. There it was: the weight of Lucifer’s gaze. It settled on his shoulders so hot and heavy it was a wonder Alastor’s coat didn’t catch on fire. He could almost taste the smirk playing on the Devil’s lips. Unwelcome anticipation coiled in his gut, but he stubbornly refused to turn, knowing that if he did so, that damned miniature monarch would just take that as a win.

“Quite,” Alastor replied. Despite the smoothness in his voice, there was just the faintest edge of strain underlying it. “I’m sure you’re aware how meetings can be. All talk, little substance.” He hummed. “Then again, I shouldn’t make assumptions. How many centuries has it been since you last attended to your duties as a parent, let alone as a king?”

Raucous canned laughter filled the air, unfortunately sending a small vibration straight up the plug nestled against his prostate. Alastor ignored the sensation and forced himself to squint at the vegetables in front of him instead. He didn’t need to look to know what Lucifer was doing – the soft crunch of an apple being sliced confirmed it. The sound simply screamed “I want attention.” An absolutely laughable notion, considering who it was coming from.

“‘Little substance?’” Lucifer asked. “Ooh, I dunno about that, Bambi. I think you’ve got plenty in you right now.”

That paused his knife. He set it aside and began cleaning up the vegetable scraps. “Your attempts at provocation are as unsubtle as ever, my dear.” He cast a look over his shoulder, eyes going half-lidded. “Truly, I expected more from the King of Hell.”

Lucifer chuckled and leaned back against the counter. “Provoking you? Is that what we’re calling me just trying to talk to you?” He cocked his head to the side. “You do know that civilized beings talk to each other, right?”

“I wouldn’t dare to call anything coming out of your mouth ‘innocent’, O Serpent of Eden,” Alastor replied lightly, moving to the sink. “As for civilized beings? Perhaps they do share the details of their day with each other… but since when have we ever considered ourselves civilized?”

It was a fair point – one that even Lucifer seemed to acknowledge, if his soft chuckle was any indication. But Alastor knew better than to think the conversation would end there. Lucifer was never one to let things go so easily.

Sure enough, moments later, the Devil was standing behind him – so close that Alastor could feel the heat radiating from Lucifer’s body and smell the faint hint of smoke, brimstone, and apple blossoms that always clung to him.

“Lucky for you, I’m just interested in whatever happened to you today,” Lucifer murmured. His hands found Alastor’s waist, then moved upwards, leaving behind a burning trail on the clothed skin.

Alastor’s grip tightened on the edge of the sink. A faint tremor ran through him despite his best efforts. He growled low, instantly hating the way his body instinctively leaned into Lucifer’s touch, even as his mind screamed at him to pull away.

“And I think you’re interested in a lot of things,” Lucifer continued. Now those fingers were dancing over Alastor’s chest. He gently pinched one nipple through the fabric of his shirt, rolling the pearly nub between his fingers. “Especially the things I can offer you.”

Alastor’s static gave a sharp pop. A surprised bleat ripped from his throat before he could strangle it. He turned to glare at Lucifer over his shoulder.

Lucifer’s grin widened, his forked tongue sliding out to moisten his lips. “I like that sound. How ‘bout you do that again for me?”

“I—” Alastor began. Much to his surprise his voice was steady despite the heat crawling up his neck. “I fail to see how that is relevant to our conversation.”

“Any sound you make is relevant here,” Lucifer chuckled, “Hell, anything you do with your mouth is relevant. All you gotta do is use it to say a few little words for me.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Ooh, sorry, those aren’t the right words.” The King of Hell’s touch paused now, just above the waistband of Alastor’s pants. “Wanna try again? Or are you already so far gone you can’t even find the right words to say?”

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken, my dear. I assure you, I’m perfectly—”

His words were cut off with a sharp whine of feedback as Lucifer’s hand slipped lower, his fingers dipping just below the top of the chastity belt. The sink creaked even more under the Overlord’s hold.

“Perfectly what?” Lucifer teased, all mock innocence and playful wickedness. “Perfectly composed? Perfectly in control?” He leaned in closer, breath ghosting against Alastor’s neck once more. “Or perfectly mine?”

Without warning, he pressed the tip of his index finger against Alastor’s heated skin. Magic surged around him, and Alastor choked on his own saliva. His knees threatened to buckle beneath him as the plug still nestled inside him suddenly shifted shape, elongating and thickening in response to Lucifer’s magic.

The sound that escaped him was undignified – a sharp moan that made his cheeks burn with humiliation. But that was nothing compared to Lucifer’s laughter echoing in his ears.

“There’s the sound I’ve been looking for!” Lucifer cheered, burying his face in the crook between Alastor’s shoulder and neck with a deep inhale. “Let’s see if we can coax it out again.”

Alastor’s smile remained firmly in place despite the way his body trembled under the pull of Lucifer’s magic. Defiance burned in his chest, but it was quickly overshadowed by the overwhelming sensations coursing through him as the plug reshaped itself once more – this time adding ribbing, extra girth, and just a little bit of curve that made his vision blur.

But that wasn’t the end of it at all. There was even more magic surging now, enough to make the lights flicker ominously. The plug doubled in size, warping and twisting until it became a very, very familiar shape.

Lucifer’s cock.

His knees gave way underneath him. A sharp gasp tore from his throat. One hand gouged the counter while the other desperately tried to steady him on the floor. His breathing came in rapid, uneven gasps as he desperately fought to maintain any composure he had left.

“Really? Just three transformations and you’re already like this?” Lucifer chuckled and tilted the Overlord’s head up, forcing Alastor to meet his gaze. “Well, I mean, we both know how this is gonna end, don’t we? So just say it. Say the words, and I’ll stop… or don’t.” Lucifer shrugged. “I’m kinda wondering how far I can push you before you finally break.”

“Take it out,” Alastor hissed out, before he could call the words back or think about how much an admission of defeat they were. His hand trembled on the counter, a whimper struggling to break free of the iron grip of his control as he pushed his ragged breaths through his bared teeth and tried to stop his antlers from growing to the extent that they became the kitchen's new pan racks.

Fuck.

Heat was pulsing at the base of his spine, long ribbons of it dancing over his hips and sinking into his guts – he'd never felt so stretched, so full, not without Lucifer thrusting into him, and even then that feeling changed when the king rocked in and out of his body.

His cock twitched against the belt, a dull throb going over his groin when it couldn't thicken any further. He already had one knee bruising against the tiles. His vision went misty as another wave of heat rocked over him. All the while, Lucifer kept that firm, burning grip on his chin, forcing Alastor to remain transfixed on his eyes. To say the man was pleased would have been an understatement; he looked absolutely gleeful, as though he were a child who had just discovered a whole new way to break his favorite toy.

But then, Lucifer's confident grin faltered. Concern crept into his gaze.

“If you wanna forfeit, you know the safe word. I need to hear it from you, Alastor,” Lucifer murmured, his voice gentle as he stroked his other hand over one trembling ear. Alastor's eyes closed, as if the darkness he wielded with such carelessness might help him in this situation, too.

No.

No, he wasn't going to give up, and he wasn't going to beg. Even though his guts felt like a ball of writhing snakes in his belly, arousal sinking its claws into his nerves and strumming them like some perverted instrument – he wasn't going to lose.

Alastor sucked in a breath – and then another, and another. Steadying himself, biting into his own lip as he pushed himself back to his feet in an effort to distract himself from the maddening sensation of what felt exactly like Lucifer's cock buried in his ass.

He should know the feeling. He'd experienced it enough times by now.

Though the pressure of it moving inside him made him dizzy, Alastor seized the fluttering threads of his control and pulled them tight. The throb was fading, the slight ache of being stretched so suddenly melding with the heat still burning under his skin.

“A momentary lapse, sire. This is but a... small inconvenience,” Alastor said, aiming for his usual careless tone and flushing when a squeak emerged from his throat amidst his words. His dick throbbed again, almost painful in how hard it was pressing against that chastity belt, and his hand twitched towards the front of his slacks.

Despite the fact that he managed to control himself, to turn and pick up the chopping board and scrape the vegetables he'd been preparing into a bowl – Lucifer's eyes locked onto the movement.

The king's gaze turned predatory, and he backed away, hopping up to sit on the kitchen table. Alastor could see him in the reflection of the pan hanging above his head, and saliva flooded his mouth when Lucifer put one foot on a chair, palming the front of his own trousers. Gold stained his cheeks, that delightful evidence of how much he wanted Alastor – how much this little display was arousing him, and without Alastor even having to lay a hand on him!

Of the two of them, surely Lucifer was the one with a laughable lack of control.

A throb from Alastor's hole made his own cheeks darken, the back of his neck prickling under the weight of Lucifer's stare. Nerves fluttered over his thighs as he worked, moving as stiffly and carefully as possible, for if he moved too far and too fast-

“Ng-!” he choked out, gripping the edge of the counter as his knees once more threatened to give out, a high pitched whine of feedback jumping into the air as his ears pinned back. That had been a step too far, the movement jostling the toy Lucifer had created until it brushed against that entirely too sensitive bundle of nerves inside him.

The tip of his cock smeared against the front of the belt, and Alastor's heart turned over uncertainly as he felt how slick it was. He was leaking – small beads of pre-come squeezed from his half hard dick, and he fought to steady himself once more.

“That's it, gorgeous. A little more of that and you'll be begging me to fuck you senseless in no time. Begging me to let you come,” Lucifer muttered, leaning back on the table with one hand as he fondled his own cock through his pants. Alastor cracked his neck, breaking it in several places for the sole purpose of jerking it around to fix the king with a withering glare.

Lucifer only laughed. Laughed and lifted his hand from his crotch, the gold flush on his cheeks not abating but his attention clearly elsewhere.

Alastor tried again to ignore him.

He started creating the marinade for the steaks they would be having, measuring things by eye and feel alone. He could still see the fallen angel in the reflection of that pan, though – and a tension crept up his frame at the promise in those golden eyes, a wicked gleam to them as Lucifer's forked tongue protruded between his lips.

Alastor used his shadows to reach for items in the kitchen, rather than risking another embarrassing display like the one from before. He kept one eye on the man behind him, watching with bemusement as Lucifer lifted his hands into the air and pinched the thumb and forefinger of each hand together.

He was about to ask what sort of unscheduled game of charades Lucifer thought he was playing at now – when he felt it.

His breath hitched, his heart beating wildly against his ribs as the faint pressure of something soft and silken brushed against the underside of his tail. Sparks of electricity soared over his lower back at the contact, and he leant forward, arms bracing his weight on the counter, biting back a whimper as he unintentionally clamped down on the toy lodged inside him.

Lucifer was concentrating very carefully, looping his hands over each other – and the pressure around Alastor's tail increased, circling around the entire base of it just tight enough that he couldn't forget it was there. Couldn't ignore the tremors going up his frame, eyes closing as he felt what must be a ribbon of some kind slip under the chastity belt, down past the base of the toy, and pass under his groin.

A strangled bleat broke from his throat as the touch of that ribbon brushed against his balls, drawn up tight in preparation for an orgasm he wasn't willing to ask for. Another wave of dizziness rocked over him, a fresh trickle of pre-come spilling from the tip of his dick and smearing over the front of the belt. At this rate, it was going to start leaking past that equipment, dampening his undershorts – and his stomach tightened at the idea.

“You doing alright, Bambi?” Lucifer asked in a murmur, self-confidence and pride oozing from every syllable. Infuriating.

Alastor's ear flicked.

“Just. Peachy,” he ground out through gritted teeth, his thighs heating as the ribbon looped around the base of his dick. “And I've told you not to call me that.”

He had told Lucifer not to call him that on so many occasions – but Lucifer only chuckled, delicately tying a bow around Alastor's dick. The added sensation of that pressure around his half hard cock, every twitch of it sliding the ribbon between his legs and tugging lightly at his tail – a part of him wanted to give up. To fold himself over the kitchen counter and ask Lucifer to have his way with him, to fuck him until he was screaming and his voice was nothing but a harsh warble of static.

He swallowed that urge, along with the saliva coating his tongue. If he stood as straight as possible, he could almost succeed in his efforts to ignore both plug and ribbon. With a flick of his hand, the radio started up a meandering jazz number, calming his thoughts – if not his racing heart.

“I'll meet you at the dinner table. With the others. I've got something to take care of, first,” Lucifer murmured, sliding off the table and slinking over, hands snaking up to rest on Alastor's hips like the serpent he wasn't.

Alastor could feel his shirt clinging to his back, a patch of sweat between his shoulder blades and under both arms staining it most unbecomingly. Lucifer stretched up on his toes, pressing his face to the patch on Alastor's back – and with a kiss, it was dry again.

Lucifer vanished – stepping back into a portal, most likely, though Alastor was no longer watching. He was too busy trying to imagine how he was going to get through dinner without humiliating himself as another bubble of static crackled from his throat.

His eyes landed on the radio, and a thought sparked in his mind. Apparently he still had enough blood left to power that much.

Alastor grinned to himself as he snapped his fingers, summoning his very own tombstone radio from his rooms. Green magic glowed, sputtering slightly when warmth pounded low in his belly once more – and he pressed a hand to the radio, muttering a rarely used enchantment under his breath.

“There. Let's see how proud you are of your accomplishments, now.”

Alastor's voice didn't emerge from his mouth. Not even from behind his clenched teeth, as sometimes happened when he forgot to speak properly.

No. It crackled from those ancient speakers – and when Alastor waved his hand, banishing the radio back to the shadows of his rooms, no sound at all emerged from his throat when he hissed out a breathless chuckle, the vibrations of a groan humming in his chest as he panted, allowing himself to let out a desperate, needy whine as he braced his elbows on the counter.

And none of it the least bit audible.

The kitchen radio played on, and Alastor set about finishing up the dinner preparations. His face remained flushed, a fresh patch of sweat blooming on his back as nerves fired and pleasure so torturous he finally understood what it was to be in Hell wracked his frame.

Your move, sire.

* * * * * *

By the time Lucifer finally appeared for dinner, everyone had already gathered to enjoy Alastor’s… well, okay, he wasn’t completely sure what he was supposed to be eating, but even he had to admit it was damn good. There was just something about how the Overlord handled earthly recipes that captured Lucifer’s palate in a way that not even Beelzebub herself had been able to do over the millenia. The broth had been simmered to perfection, the vegetables shone with a honeyed glaze, the aroma of herbs and spices wafted through the air, and the garlic rice was fluffy and flavorful. It was a meal that made Lucifer almost forget his mission – almost.

He leaned back in his seat at the head of the table, bowl empty, belly full, and just about ready for dessert. Of course, he had to wait for everyone else to finish before the little bug maid – Nelly? Nasty? Nerdy? – even thought about bringing out dessert. From the looks of things, the others were still very much savoring Alastor’s cooking, meaning that Lucifer would have quite a long wait. A small sigh escaped the him as he rested his cheek against one hand, golden gaze drifting across the table. If he didn’t find some way to occupy himself soon, he was going to get really damn bored.

Luckily, Lucifer had the perfect method of entertainment sitting right in front of him.

Alastor sat a few seats down and across from him, clearly having somehow managed to overcome the transforming butt plug from earlier. The Overlord sat with his back straight, shoulders relaxed, and smile bright as ever. Bastard even had the audacity to widen his smile and tilt his head whenever one of the other hotel residents said something slightly amusing, as though he hadn’t been on the floor, desperately fighting back the need to moan and beg only an hour or two before. He was the picture of carefree, but Lucifer knew better; there was plenty for him to play with to break that seemingly unflappable exterior.

It was pretty interesting, though; throughout this entire dinner, not one single peep had come out of Alastor’s mouth. For someone who clearly loved to listen to his own voice and probably secretly wanked to the rhythm of his eternally present static on the daily, that was pretty unusual. Thankfully, the only one who seemed to give Alastor’s strange silence more than a passing glance was Angel, and it was easy enough to distract him by bringing up his latest “movie.”

Huh. Was Alastor doing something weird with his voice? Did he have a secret volume dial that he hadn’t bothered telling Lucifer about? That’d be useful information – and a good way to shut the man up when he was being a nuisance. But something told Lucifer that wasn’t the case at all.

Well, that was fine. Charlie shouldn’t need to hear the sinful, wanton results of Lucifer’s and Alastor’s fun little game. But that didn’t mean Lucifer was powerless – quite the opposite, actually. He had plenty of tools at his disposal to make Alastor beg without so much as touching him. All he had to do was use them.

Lucifer’s telepathy could be used for more than just mere words. If he concentrated hard enough, he could also inflict visions on others. Normally, this was just used for helping people find something that he wanted but forgot in his room, but it was also useful for telling Charlie where he was or for letting Vaggie know if there was a problem that required some spear-waving. But of course, Lucifer was nothing if not a master of creativity Thus, with a bit of magic and a subtle flick of his fingers under the table, he tuned into Alastor’s frequency once more, this time digging his metaphorical claws in a little bit deeper.

The first vision was simple but devastating: Lucifer, on his knees in front of Alastor, his forked tongue dragging slow, deliberate lines up the inside of the Overlord’s thigh. The King of Hell’s hands gripped Alastor’s hips, holding him in place as he teased closer to the sensitive juncture of his groin. Lucifer even made sure to convey as best as he could the gentle, teasing brush of his breath over Alastor’s skin, making sure to have the vision pause to suckle a pretty little mark just before his mouth hit Alastor’s cock.

He smiled, though he pretended it was in response to Charlie making some remark about how many sinners had been redeemed or how many cookies had been baked that morning or something as adorably mundane as that. But even when he turned to acknowledge his baby girl and how amazing of a job she was doing with the hotel, his focus remained on the Overlord.

He first noticed the faintest twitch of the Radio Demon’s shoulders. Then, the grip on his fork tightened. The metal bent under the pressure, but not enough to draw any undue attention. His left eye twitched, but he kept his gaze fixed on the plate in front of him, his smile unwavering. Lucifer took another bite of his meal and hummed, rolling it across his tongue as he fixed his gaze on his lover. Twin spots of colour were already rising to Alastor’s cheeks, giving him the adorably flushed look that always appeared just before he dropped to his knees and rutted against Lucifer’s leg.

“You okay? You’re looking pretty tense there,” Lucifer said, making sure to pour as much smugness as humanly (demonly?) possible into his mental voice. “Need me to help you out?”

Alastor set down his fork and took an exagerratedly slow sip from his wine glass in response. His gaze briefly flicked over to Lucifer before moving back to where Charlie was now animatedly talking about her plans for the “biggest Trust Falls chain ever,” complete with slideshow. The slight flash of his yellowed teeth made his own message quite clear: he was daring Lucifer to try.

Well, if Alastor was gonna twist his arm like that, who was Lucifer to deny the man some good and proper worship?

He sent the next image quickly, this one more explicit: Alastor sprawled across the table, pupils blown, coat discarded, shirt unbuttoned, and erection straining against his chastity belt. Thin, clever fingers trailed down Alastor’s abdomen, exploring every beautiful crevice and dip of his body. In the next moment, the click of the chastity belt unlocking echoed in the vision. Then, Vision Lucifer’s mouth was upon him, tongue swirling around the tip before taking his lover’s length into his mouth.

In the real world, Alastor’s grip on his wine glass tightened, but he managed to set it down without drawing attention. His chest rose and fell just a fraction faster, his smile taut at the edges. Lucifer’s grin turned predatory, his fingers drumming idly against the table as he leaned back in his chair, the picture of casual disinterest.

Alastor was doing well. So, so very well. Lucifer almost wanted to reward the poor thing for enduring such torture for so long. But rewarding Alastor now would just delay the inevitable. Better to savor the teasing now - age it like finest wine - before delivering ruin and ecstasy all at once.

The third vision was downright filthy. This time, Lucifer made sure Alastor knew exactly what the Devil intended once he was finally ready to be ruined. Vision Lucifer now had Alastor bent over the dining table, cock drooling all over the polished wood. One hand pressed Alastor down by the shoulder while the other gently stroked over the pretty ribbon on his tail. Vision Lucifer’s lips ghosted over the nape of Alastor’s neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin there as he rolled his lover’s tail in between his fingers. Alastor’s face was so flushed, so wantonly desperate that it was almost hard to tell where the Radio Demon’s pride lay shattered and where Lucifer’s adorable Bambi began.

“What’s wrong? Someone feeling a bit tense right now?” Lucifer asked, hiding a grin behind his mug. Alastor’s left ear flicked slightly in response, Adam’s apple bobbing just a touch as he swallowed. “You know exactly how to end this. Both of us do. So why don’t you just give in? I’ll make sure whatever noises you make will be the sweetest sounds these walls ever hear.”

* * * * * *

The vision of himself in Lucifer's mind was almost too much to bear. Never before had he seen his own body from the other man's point of view, though he'd entertained himself with the idea of how debauched he must look on more than one occasion. The sight of his own face, teeth biting into his lower lip hard enough to send blood trickling down his chin – the image of his tail, quivering and helpless in Lucifer's hand – it was enough to make a man lose his mind.

Luckily for Alastor, that wasn't going to be an issue. He'd already given up his grip on sanity long ago, and a breathless cackle echoed from the radio in his rooms, eyes flashing as Lucifer grinned across the table at him.

Whilst Alastor probably could have localised some of his shape-shifting abilities to lessen the impact of the plug within him against his senses, he rather thought that might spoil the fun of it all. He'd only banished his voice because public humiliation wasn't high on his list of sexual depravities to trial – and he suspected even Lucifer might be grateful for the fact that he wasn't going to be forced to explain to Charlie why her hotelier was moaning her father's name through his teeth.

Still – the burning glut pulsing steadily in Alastor's guts wouldn't be ignored, and it had been all he could do just to finish his meal. He barely tasted the sweet sauces and spices he'd cooked with, his actions mechanical as shivers of pleasure danced almost continuously under his skin.

His eyes widened slightly as Lucifer pushed a new image into his mind, and he coughed, choking on his sip of wine. His cheeks burned as red as his hair, and he waved off Charlie's sudden concern, indicating silently that she should go on with her presentation as he thumped a fist against his chest. The universal gesture of 'sorry, something just went down the wrong hole.'

His hole was rather the topic of the minute, at least in Lucifer's sordid imaginings. Alastor's radio, so many floors above, whined with feedback as he was forced to look upon the sight of Lucifer dragging the plug he'd summoned from Vision Alastor's ass. He watched his own rim, stretched and slick, contract around the toy - and a confusing sense of embarrassment and arousal thrummed through his veins.

It felt positively filthy, to be looking at such a thing.

He wondered if there was any possibility of making it a reality.

Another trickle of pre-come smeared against the belt, and Alastor's claws tightened around his fork as he groaned. The edges of his vision went hazy, metal squeaking as he folded the hapless utensil in his grip. Husk shot a suspicious glance his way – and when the cat-demon's nose twitched, Alastor thought it might be time to make his exit.

“Not waiting for dessert?” Lucifer piped up, drawing attention to the fact that Alastor was stacking his dishes one atop the other before getting to his feet – a task that was accomplished only by the assistance of pushing into the table with both hands, a fresh wave of aching need rocking through him as the toy buried inside him shifted, the ribbon Lucifer had so kindly added to his tail tugging at the base of his dick.

“Alastor? Are you feeling okay?” Charlie trailed off from her presentation once more. He gave her a tight lipped smile and a thumbs up in response, deciding it would be safer to leave his dishes for Niffty to clean up later. Angel raised a brow at his continued lack of conversation – and rescue came from an unexpected source, the very man who'd put him in such a situation to begin with.

“Actually, now that you mention it, Alastor did say he was feeling a bit under the weather earlier. Aw, man – have you lost your voice? That's such a shame, I know how much you love to hear yourself talk. Don't worry, Charlie – I'll make sure he's alright,” Lucifer announced as he got to his feet.

Alastor's eyes narrowed. After the events of today, he had rather a good idea of what the king classified as 'alright'.

It wasn't as if he had any way to refuse, though – could only smile blandly at Charlie's useless expression of concern, a squeak echoing through his rooms with every step he took. He walked with knees locked, the only way to stop them buckling as his entire body throbbed around the simulacrum of Lucifer's cock wedged in his ass.

They'd barely made it into the hall before Lucifer seized him around the middle, spinning him around and pushing him backwards – straight through a portal, the pair of them landing on Lucifer's bed with a squeal of static and a desperate gasp as Alastor's voice leapt back into his throat. His landing had jostled the toy within him, and his back arched helplessly as he writhed against it.

At this point he wasn't sure whether he wanted it removed or if he wanted to try and fuck himself on it – but the fact was that he could achieve neither. It wouldn't give him the movement he needed, and as Lucifer's lips landed on his, he wondered whether he'd won. Whether Lucifer simply couldn't hold out any longer, the sight of Alastor so flushed and needy too difficult for him to ignore.

Alastor ground his hips up, pressing against the other man now straddling his thighs – and a frustrated growl echoed in his chest when he could get no friction. When his dick only throbbed, stifled in its efforts to harden fully and grant him the release that was starting to seem like a need as fundamental as breathing.

“Just say the word, Bambi. Just say please. Then I'll fuck you the way you need, the way you're aching for me to do,” Lucifer muttered, nipping at Alastor's lips and flicking out his tongue to lap up the beads of blood he drew. Alastor's jaw tightened, and he was tugging his shirt from his belt and shakily trying to unbutton his pants before he was even fully aware of what he was doing.

Lucifer tsk'd, a gentle tutting sound, and gripped Alastor's wrist in his claws.

“Uh-uh, nope. You have to ask, first. Come on, Alastor. I know you want it – look at you. You want to come. So just admit defeat and let me take care of you,” Lucifer grinned, the flash of victory in his eyes snapping Alastor's mind back to himself. Another snarl of static bounced off the back of his teeth, his eyes leeching to black as he stared his refusal into Lucifer's face.

With a chuckle, Lucifer waved a hand – summoning golden coils of rope that snaked up the corners of the bed, winding themselves around Alastor's ankles and wrists and pulling them out tight, like a man about to be drawn and quartered.

“Ha! You wi-hi-issssh,” Alastor stuttered, his head falling back with a whimper as Lucifer swept his hands up Alastor's torso. Burrowing under his shirt and smoothing over hot skin, not hesitating for a second in touching the demon who'd built a reputation as being untouchable. Another high pitched, needy little sound betrayed Alastor as Lucifer's nimble fingers pinched at his nipples, fireworks bursting beneath his skin. His mouth fell open, shuddering pants setting his chest to heaving – and the maddening throb from his cock and hole continued, unabated.

“I could sit here and play with you until you finally say please. It probably wouldn't take long. But I have a lot to do – letters to send, kingly duties to attend to. You wouldn't mind waiting a little longer, would you?” Lucifer asked. There was a twinkle of angelic power, the telltale apple-scent in the air of Lucifer misusing his God-given gifts – and Alastor's eyes rolled back, lids fluttering closed with a desperate whine as he felt something clamp onto his nipples.

Cool air brushed over his skin, and he managed to force one eye open enough to see that Lucifer had banished his clothing. Had left him in nothing but the belt that was still pressing against his straining dick, the flash of red ribbon sitting against Alastor's crimson pubic fur a reminder of just how much of a claim Lucifer already had on him.

And that was to say nothing of the way the king flicked his claw over the chain strung between the clamps he'd just summoned, each one fastened quite securely to those sensitive nubs of flesh. The motion sent a spiderweb of heat racing over Alastor's chest, coalescing and melting into the burning ache roiling in his abdomen.

He must look a mess. Positively filthy, and it was that thought that had his ears lowering, a wordless plea echoing from his throat. His limbs trembled against the ropes - but still, those cursed words didn't escape his control. He could hold out against the pleasure Lucifer was putting him through, surely. Could wait until the king broke first, replacing that toy with his own cock and fucking Alastor into oblivion.

Yes – as Lucifer swung his leg off Alastor's hip, trotting over to sit at his desk, Alastor pushed that thought to the very front of his mind. He could retain his control.

But for how long?

* * * * * *

It took Lucifer about twenty minutes until he couldn't work anymore. This was, of course, owing in part to the fact that there were far more interesting sights in front of him than paperwork, of all things. Why did he have so much anyways? He was the King of Hell – surely there was some rabble of sinners or lower demons eager to kiss his boots and do his mundane work for him.

Golden eyes shifted to the bed, watching the way Alastor’s chest rapidly rose and fell. True to his word, he had made Alastor wait – desperate, hot, and panting while Lucifer attended to his work. The Overlord’s sharp jaw was clenched, his ever-present smile wobbling. But he hadn’t made a sound – at least, not the sort Lucifer was looking for.

Lucifer smirked to himself as he drew his signature across the parchment. His pen moved smoothly, signing off on some trivial matter, but his attention remained firmly on Alastor.

If that gorgeous body had any more tension added to it, Lucifer was pretty sure Alastor would just snap, literally. Every muscle was coiled like a spring, struggling against the golden rope so much that every breath brought with it the creak of celestial hemp. His nipples blushed a lovely pink under the silvery clamps. Now that his stomach was exposed, the Radio Demon was now completely unable to hide the quickly growing patch of wetness atop it from the pre leaking from his cock. The sight made Lucifer’s mouth water in ways it hadn’t since Eden.

Almost casually, one of Lucifer’s hands trailed down to his own erection, palming it through his clothes. As good a liar as he tended to be, even he couldn’t convince himself that Alastor’s desperate, lust-filled state wasn’t having some sort of effect on him. Really, he was pretty sure that any other being would have given up by now. When Alastor was being as deliciously tempting as he was right now, a lesser being would be on their knees, worshipping him in ways that most succubi could only dream of.

But that was just the thing: Lucifer was stubborn to a fault. Perhaps in some way, that was his actual original sin.

“Wow, you’re actually holding up better than expected.” Lucifer tilted his head and studied Alastor with almost clinical interest, noting the faint tremor in his hands and the sheen of sweat on his brow. He lifted his pen to his mouth and chewed thoughtfully, smirking with Alastor’s eyes narrowed. Couldn’t gloat in his swiftly nearing victory without annoying the guy as well, after all. “I’m starting to wonder if you really can keep this up forever.”

Alastor’s smile twitched at the corners. “Oh, believe me, Sire. I can.”

Fuck, what was it about that smooth, velvet voice? That warbling static? That rebellious fire in those crimson eyes? Whatever it was, it was beyond fucking sexy. Enough to get Lucifer to start toying with his own clothed cock, allowing his hand to glide over the fabric and tweaking the head just to feel a tiny bit of relief, all while his dear, sweet lover was trussed up and splayed open just for him.

“Sure you can,” he said. “But I don’t think you understand what kind of position you’re in.” He raked his gaze once more over Alastor’s naked form. “Winning against me isn’t about survival. It’s about stopping me from breaking you.”

Without bothering to wait for what was likely to be a snarky and wholly disrespectful response, he opened the top left drawer of his desk and pulled out a pad and pencil. Alastor’s static popped in confusion at the sight of it, but Lucifer wasn’t about to reveal the game. After flipping through to an empty page, he quickly began sketching the outline of Alastor’s silhouette. It wasn’t his best work but it would do. He had so much planned, after all.

“You might be the king of self control… but don’t you forget.” He smirked. “I’m the fucking King of Hell.”

He started off simple. Pressing his pencil to where Alastor’s sketched ankle was, he drew a swift line up towards Alastor’s inner thigh. In an instant, he felt the tingle of his magic, then grinned as Alastor gasped and jerked against the rope. A warm, invisible touch caressed him in the exact same path Lucifer drew. Lucifer stopped drawing just before reaching Alastor’s cock, choosing instead to lift his pencil and bring the eraser to the corner of his lips.

“L-Lucifer—!” Alastor hissed, his voice strained when the touch disappeared.

Lucifer hummed, grin widening. “Yeah?” He sounded innocent. Good. He hoped Alastor appreciated all the work he was doing.

“You—! What are you doing!?”

“Just playing around,” Lucifer answered, pressing his pencil against the paper once more. “Don’t mind me. Just keep doing what you’re doing.”

He added two more lines to the sketch – arrows this time, alternating between pointing towards the plug and away again. Once more, Alastor gasped, a burst of static spilling from him as the toy inside him began to move. It thrust itself in deeper, striking his prostate with Lucifer’s devastating accuracy, only to withdraw completely with a small pop. As it did so, a small, strangled sound escaped Alastor’s lips, and Lucifer’s grin turned downright wicked.

“Whoops! Did that get to you? Sorry ‘bout that. Lemme fix that for you.” With that, Lucifer added even more arrows. With every arrow he drew, the toy thrust itself in and out. In and out. Each time it thrust inside him, Alastor let out another gasp as the head of the toy glided over his most sensitive spots. And each time it dragged itself out, Alastor would whine, whimper, or grit his teeth. All beautiful, lovely sounds – but still not the one Lucifer demanded.

Now Lucifer’s pencil was flying across the sketchpad, giving life to arrows, lines, and circles of all kinds. His magic flared around him as Alastor reacted to every single shape. The toy thrust in and out of him at an even more rapid pace. The invisible touch grew bolder, trailing up his inner thigh and barely brushing the head of his cock. More invisible hands began to circle his nipples. They yanked at the chain and plucked at the clasps until tears sprang to Alastor’s eyes.

Lucifer chuckled, rubbing his thighs together to give himself just a touch of friction as he continued to work on his masterpiece. “You know, it really pays to be an artist. I can make whatever I want, whenever I want. All I need is some inspiration… and a canvas.” His pencil slowed, tracing a line along Alastor’s jaw – and an invisible touch followed. “I’m going to make you feel everything I want to do to you. Every. Single. Touch. And when I’m done…” His grin turned predatory as he spun his pencil between his fingers. “You’ll be begging for me to finish you off.”

There was something in the way Alastor’s eyes widened, the way his chest rose and fell, that was oh-so delicious. It was clear he wanted to snap back with some cutting remark, but anything he had to say caught in his throat as Lucifer’s pencil moved across the sketchpad yet again. This time, he pressed even harder, making those sensations intensify tenfold.

Now, that invisible touch became even more insistent, sliding over his hot, feverish skin in the exact way Lucifer would touch him – pleasuring his dearest deer until his entire body felt as desperate and wanting as his cock. The toy was pulsing and twisting now, driving into him with a mercilessness that only the Devil could bring. With every passing second, Alastor’s whines became louder, the tugs on the rope more insistent.

“C’mon, Bambi. You know how this’ll end.”

Alastor bit his lip, his body arching once more and straining the ropes. He was clearly trying to keep quiet – and failing. “L-Lucifer,” he gasped, his voice warbling as static laced his words, “s-stop this madness!”

Lucifer hummed, his expression twisting into one of mock sympathy. “Hm… that doesn’t sound like begging. Besides, we’re just getting to the good part.” He added a few more lines to the sketch, and Alastor let out a choked cry as the feeling of Lucifer’s cock slamming into his throat overwhelmed him. His body shook, his breathing grew ragged, drool dripped from both sides of his mouth. His throat even bulged obscenely with the outline of Lucifer’s cock.

Lucifer watched him with a predatory gleam in his eyes. “What’s the matter? Choking on something?” With a wide smirk, he flipped his pencil around. “C’mon… you know what I want.”

It was time for the final blow.

Using the eraser, Lucifer got rid of everything. Every invisible touch. Every thrust of the toy. Every tug on the nipple clamps. Even the feeling of his cock down Alastor’s throat. He had learned long ago that sometimes, the best sort of desperation came from deprivation. Once he was done getting rid of everything that made his lover feel good, he set the sketchpad aside—

And waited.

* * * * * *

No!

The word bubbled in Alastor's throat – a throat that had been, until mere seconds ago, filled with the phantom imitation of Lucifer's cock even as the king sat back and watched him choke on it. He trembled on the verge of orgasm, pleasure wracking through him. He didn't know if it was possible for a man to come whilst something was restricting him from getting hard, but for a second-

And then Lucifer had taken it all away. Left him empty and aching, his hole twitching at the air and his nerves quivering like somebody had just slammed their fingers across the strings of a harp. Discordant and uncoordinated, confused as to what they were meant to be doing.

Alastor panted in the ruins of what might have been some relief from this torture, rolling his hips just to feel the twinge that shot through him. His entire body throbbed, ghostly echoes of that equally ghostly touch still dancing over his skin, in the way a corpse might keep twitching after the electric shocks had finished running through it. A wordless whine escaped him, fog sweeping in at the edges of his mind as hot tears of frustration leaked from the corners of his eyes and ran down his face, searing him with his own shame.

He had been so certain he could hold out. That nothing Lucifer could do to him would force him to say those words, to let the word 'please' fall from his lips.

Until Lucifer was doing nothing.

Lucifer shifted in his seat, leaning back and letting his legs fall open. Alastor could see the clear outline of his cock straining at his pants, white fabric stained darker with his own excitement. His hips rocked again, his subconscious filling his mind with the thought of Lucifer filling him.

His control lay in tatters around him, fragile threads trying to hold him together. They might as well be spiderwebs trying to keep two buildings from collapsing, for all the good they were doing. God, but he ached.

Alastor could barely think over the sound of his own blood pounding in his ears, pulse beating on the back of his tongue. He could smell his own sweat and arousal, the crimson fur of his groin sticky with pre-come.

For every second Lucifer's eyes stayed glued to his body, the knot in Alastor's stomach pulled tighter. Heat shot up his abdomen, his already flushed face burning as he forced his eyes closed – forced himself not to look.

It was no use – behind his shut lids, he could picture Lucifer getting silently from that chair, stalking over to him as his clothing sloughed off his body. Crawling onto the end of the bed, situating himself between Alastor's thighs and driving into him as the belt trapping his dick vanished.

He let out a filter-garbled cry as the image of Lucifer in his mind freed one of his ankles from the rope, hitching his leg up over the other man's shoulders and slapping his hand down against Alastor's rear. Squeezing and palming the sparse flesh he had on offer as he fucked into Alastor for all he was worth, hard and ruthless enough that he wasn't going to be able to walk properly or sit down without feeling the reminder of-

Alastor opened his eyes, chest heaving, and caught the knowing smirk on Lucifer's face. A fresh trickle of pre-come leaked from the tip of his dick, smearing against the mess he'd already made of himself. His head sagged back against the pillows, mouth hanging open and eyes rolling, panting like a blown horse.

Fuck.

He bit into his lip, but even the sharp, coppery tang of his own blood couldn't clear his head. Couldn't distract him from the reminder of just how empty he suddenly felt, how cold, and he wanted Lucifer's hands back on him. Wanted to feel the king's hot breath and sharp teeth at his neck, tongue pressing against his fluttering veins. To feel blood vessels burst and spill under his skin, bruising him for all the world to see Lucifer's claim.

Because he was Lucifer's, there was no doubt about that. For all their bickering, for all his denial – in the deepest recesses of his blackened heart, he knew that much to be true. His hips jerked, a fresh wave of heat washing through him when he looked over at Lucifer again and saw the king's gaze focused on his hole, stretched and ready for Lucifer to take.

Alastor tried to shift – to tug his legs closed, a contradictory sort of modesty – and he groaned when the rope around his ankles dug in, chafing skin that he'd already rubbed with his writhing. He stilled, the last threads of his self-control snapping under the weight of Lucifer's gaze.

“Please.”

The word was barely more than a whisper, but he knew Lucifer had heard it. Knew it from the way his eyes darted up, attention buzzing against Alastor's senses louder than his static could drown out.

Alastor shivered, a haze settling over his mind. As if in uttering that plea, he'd given himself permission to sink into whatever Lucifer wanted of him. Lucifer's chair creaked as he stood, Alastor's stomach twisting in anticipation.

“Please, what?” Lucifer asked, his voice deliberately steady. Feedback squealed in the air, Alastor yanked from his acceptance of his loss of control by the absolutely ridiculous question.

“What do you fucking think?” He hissed out, his voice whip-sharp and so filled with static it barely sounded human. “Do I need to spell it out for you, are you that fucking thick-”

“Alastor,” Lucifer cut off his litany, climbing onto the bed and pressing his hands to Alastor's inner thighs. He dug his claws into the skin, dragging a gasp from Alastor's throat as his back arched, relishing the sweet contrast of pain against the aching nothingness Lucifer had imposed upon him.

“You've gotta say it. That was the agreement.”

A part of him still wanted to argue. But as Lucifer's hands drifted higher, thumb rubbing over the sensitive crease of skin between thigh and groin and slipping under the edges of the belt to brush against his straining dick, that part of him shattered into pieces.

“Please fuck me, sire. Please, I can't take it – I need to, I need you to-” he rushed out, trying to twist his hips towards Lucifer's hands as sensation fired over his trapped cock. The tension in his belly was almost enough to make him nauseous, roiling and writhing within him, and a desperate bleat sounded from his throat as Lucifer's face split into a grin. The other man lowered his head to press a kiss against Alastor's thigh, and he might as well have shoved a white-hot iron into Alastor's frontal cortex, for all the sense his thoughts were making.

“And? You know what I'm after, gorgeous. Just ask nicely and you can have it,” Lucifer coaxed, all solicitousness now that Alastor had given in.

Alastor's hands bunched into fists, shaking against the ropes holding his arms outstretched. It was as if somebody had coated his mind in cotton-wool, his tongue disconnected from his consciousness as he hastened to say the right words, that one phrase that Lucifer was after so he could get what he wanted.

“Please let me come.”

That was all Lucifer needed to hear.

Alastor felt his lover smirk against his thigh before pressing another kiss to it. A paltry reward, considering everything that he had just put Alastor through.

“Anything for you.”

He snapped his fingers. The chastity belt instantly dissolved into a fine golden mist. The room’s cold air brushed against Alastor’s cock the moment it sprang free, contrasting beautifully with the fiery burst of heat spreading across his pelvis. His body instinctively arched off the bed with a warbling moan. It was as though Lucifer had removed armor, leaving his body vulnerable and desperate for the brimstone of Lucifer’s touch.

But Lucifer wasn’t touching. No, he was staring. His gaze raked over Alastor’s body, taking in every detail. Sharp teeth pressed down into the full flesh of his bottom lip as he took in the rosy flush of Alastor’s skin, the rapid rise and fall of his chest, and the way Alastor’s cock celebrated its freedom by painting his abdomen in steady pools of pearly precum.

It was sinful. It was humiliating.

It was obnoxious.

“Are we quite done here?” Alastor snapped, static humming low and thick in his voice. “Or has your age finally caught up with you and you’ve already forgotten what we’re doing?”

That earned him a low huff and a dirty look, though it was marred by the sheer lust dancing in Lucifer’s expression. Alastor shivered as the Devil’s hands slid up his thighs. Golden eyes filled with the sort of hunger that could only come from a predator who had been waiting all day to devour his prey.

“Don’t be a brat now, Al,” Lucifer cooed. “You’ve been so good for me so far. So patient and controlled. But now…” His fingers curled around Alastor’s hips, thumbs digging into the hollows of his pelvis. “Now it’s time to let go.”

Alastor’s eyes fluttered shut, a low moan escaping his throat as Lucifer’s tongue flicked out, drawing a fiery path up the length of his cock. His hands clenched into fists, arms desperately tugging at the rope around his wrists. He felt Lucifer still, felt his forked tongue barely dipping into his slit. It drew yet another low whine from him.

“C’mon, what did I just say about being a brat?” Lucifer chided. He pressed a kiss to the base of Alastor’s cock before taking him into his mouth, inch by torturous inch. Alastor threw back his head, practically howling as a nearly unbearable tunnel made of hellfire enveloped him, spreading red-hot desire all across his body.

And then, Lucifer began to move. His tongue drew a burning path along the shaft. One hand gripped the base of Alastor’s cock, working it with the ease of a man who had done this millions of times before. Alastor responded with more warbling static and desperate moans, tension building in his body like a cord.

But Lucifer wasn’t ready to let him fall.

With a wicked grin, he pulled back. Alastor’s hips jerking in a futile attempt to chase the man, but Lucifer’s hand pressed him back down.

“Hm… nope! Sorry, not quite yet,” Lucifer said, his voice low. He leaned forward, his lips brushing against the shell of Alastor’s ear. “I want to hear you beg again.”

Alastor’s eyes snapped open, his gaze meeting Lucifer’s. Desperation and defiance warred within him, kicking up a roiling storm in his chest. “Exactly how many ridiculous demands do you intend on making tonight?”

His voice, damn him, was trembling and breathless. It was the sort of voice he’d never let anyone else hear. And yet, here he was, offering it up to the Devil himself. Frustration mounted as Lucifer’s tongue traced the shell of his plush lips. One hand trailed down Alastor’s chest, teasing at his nipples before moving lower and tracing the line of his hip.

“As many as it’ll take for me to be satisfied.” He leaned in, his lips brushing against Alastor’s as he spoke. “Beg, Alastor. Tell me what you want.”

Defiance spiked. “Ha! Never going to happen.”

Lucifer’s grin widened, and he pressed a searing kiss to Alastor’s lips, his hand wrapping around Alastor’s cock once more. Alastor gasped into the kiss, hips bucking into the touch, chasing pleasure and pressure in equal measure. When Lucifer pulled away, his golden eyes glinted with challenge.

“Guess I just need to break you some more.”

His hand glided along Alastor’s cock, slowly pulling his body towards sweet, sweet release. Overwhelming, all-consuming rapture built within him, filling his lungs and stomach with thick, heady need. All the while, Lucifer’s lips trailed down his neck, sharp teeth grazing over his pattering pulse.

“That’s it, Bambi,” he praised, his hand moving faster, more insistent now. “Let go for me. Let’s see you fall apart.”

A cry tore from Alastor’s lips as his pleasure crested. Wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over him in full-body convulsions. His pleasure splattered over Lucifer’s hand in hot, thick ropes, but the Devil didn’t relent. He kept stroking, kept squeezing, kept coaxing every last drop of pleasure from Alastor’s flushed, trembling body.

When Alastor’s limp, spent body finally collapsed back onto the bed, Lucifer pressed a lingering kiss to his lips. “Beautiful,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe. “You’re so fucking beautiful—”

Alastor’s eyes fluttered open. The King sat there and grinned down at him with a mix of exhaustion, affection, and something far deeper than that. Something that set something long-dead in Alastor’s chest aflutter and would have made his toes curl in delight – if he had any.

But it wasn’t enough. It was never enough. When it came to Lucifer, all he ever wanted was more, more, more. The next thing Alastor knew, he was stirring again, tugging at the ropes with an almost primal impatience.

“Aw, what, not satisfied?” Lucifer asked playfully. “And here I thought I was the desperate one after all that.”

Alastor’s eyes narrowed, but the effect was utterly ruined by the heat in his face and the tremor in his frame. He opened his mouth to deliver some biting retort, but Lucifer silenced him with a single finger pressed to his lips.

“Ah, ah, ah!” Lucifer chided. “The only thing I want coming out of that mouth of yours is begging.”

With that, Lucifer slid down Alastor’s body until he settled between his thighs. Even if Alastor had wanted to stop him, he couldn’t; his body was far too busy quivering with the aftershocks of his climax. He jolted when Lucifer's breath ghosted over his sensitive skin, cock twitching to life once more with interest. Razor-sharp teeth clamped down on his bottom lip, swallowing the moan before it could form.

Not that it did anything to stop Lucifer from noticing.

“So eager,” Lucifer chuckled. “But I think you can take a little more, can’t you?”

Once again, Alastor’s hands clenched into fists. He didn't respond – refused to, lest he give up his carefully constructed pride. Bu there was no hiding the way his body tensed. When Lucifer’s tongue flicked out in response to tease his entrance, Alastor knew then and there that there was no hiding anything from the man.

Without giving Alastor a chance to breathe, Lucifer’s tongue delved deeper. Alastor’s breath hitched again, his body tensing as pleasure shot through him in waves. The rope disappeared with another snap of Lucifer’s fingers, allowing Alastor’s hands to fly to Lucifer’s head. Red-tipped claws tangled in platinum hair, but Alastor didn’t push him away. Rather, he pulled the fallen angel closer desperate to feel that hellfire burning him down to his very core.

Lucifer groaned softly, the sound vibrating against Alastor’s skin. Without warning, he pressed in deeper, that silvery tongue coaxing more and more moans from Alastor’s lips. His body seized as every bit of control and composure unravelled in the face of the Devil’s ministrations.

“L-Lucifer—” Alastor’s voice was a broken whisper, awash in static. He felt Lucifer smirk against his skin.

“Yeah? What is it? What do you want?”

Alastor’s hips lifted off the bed – a silent, screaming plea for more. Exactly the way Lucifer liked it. But Lucifer wasn’t about to let him off so easily. He never did. That was their relationship.

“Hm… sorry, I need big boy words,” Lucifer teased, all fiery arousal and playful menace. “I wanna hear you say it again, Al. I want to hear you beg.”

Alastor let out a low whimper, his hands curling into the sheets. For a moment, his defiance rose, and he was once again tempted to refuse. A barb would be better, or a sharp jab. Something that would humiliate the King of Hell and remind him of his place.

But he couldn't. Because his body was burning. His mind was swimming. He could no longer fathom anything in existence without having Lucifer inside him.

With a soft, broken moan, he let his head fall back against the pillows. His flushed, rosy cock twitched against his stomach.

“P-please,” he whispered again. “Please, Lucifer… I need you… I need you inside me…”

All he got was an answering moan – almost relieved, if he would dare describe it as that. “That’s my good boy,” Lucifer purred. “Since you asked so nicely…”

That was when he fully realised the gravity of his situation: Alastor was a ruined man. He'd never in his life begged, and certainly not for something like this.

It felt as though his tongue were nothing but a slave to the wants of his body - and oh, how his body wanted. It craved Lucifer's touch like a drug, screamed at him that he was incomplete without the feeling of Lucifer inside him – and Alastor had to agree.

He groaned as Lucifer positioned himself until he was lined up with Alastor’s hole. He moaned when Lucifer pushed forward, claws scrabbling for purchase against the other man’s shoulders. The simulacrum of Lucifer's cock that had been fucking into him was as nothing compared to the sweet give of Lucifer in reality, hot and firm and yielding in all the right places – until the two of them were slotted together as neatly as a pair of puzzle pieces, Alastor panting as Lucifer settled in him to the hilt.

They stayed that way for several long breaths, Alastor's heart drumming so loudly against his ribs he thought it might be trying to leap from his chest and start performing a two-step, right there for Lucifer's enjoyment. His already overwrought nerves were fluttering all over his skin, every touch too much – and still Alastor wanted more.

“Please,” he muttered mindlessly, because it seemed Lucifer so enjoyed hearing that word spill from his lips. He was no longer clear what he was asking for, only that he was asking, and Lucifer was pressing kisses against his collarbones, accompanying them with soft compliments and praise.

Lucifer shifted, moving back – and Alastor whined a protest, throwing his legs up around Lucifer's hips as he felt the slow glide of that hard-won cock start to leave him. Lucifer couldn't take himself from Alastor, not now – he couldn't handle any further teasing, he'd thought he could but he couldn't—

“Shh,” Lucifer hushed him, cutting through the broken blurts of static catching on every desperate breath Alastor let out. The squeak Alastor gave him was humiliating in how pathetic it was, a choked noise far too close to a sob as his entire body thrummed in the aftermath of everything Lucifer had already done.

“Let me fuck you, come on. You're being so good, Alastor. Let me give you what you need,” Lucifer coaxed. His cock was a steady pressure against Alastor's inner walls, Alastor’s ankles locked at the small of Lucifer's back with his refusal to let the other man go as his muscles trembled and shook with the effort.

“If you don't unhook your legs, I'll tie you up again. And I'd have to stop fucking you to do that,” Lucifer warned in a mutter. Alastor's blood spiked, his ears flattening at the thought as the heavy feedback of tuning into an off-air station sank into his mind.

He unhooked his ankles as quickly as he could, whimpering softly as his legs dropped to the bed and Lucifer's cock shifted within him. Pleasure curled around his nervous system, throbbed in his guts, and he wasn't sure if he wanted his dick touched or not. He thought any contact might just short-circuit his nerves until he'd never feel another thing.

“Very good, gorgeous. Now hold on,” Lucifer whispered, pushing himself up on his hands before wrapping one of those hands around Alastor's thigh, claws digging into flushed skin.

Alastor wasn't sure what he was meant to hold on to. But he wasn't about to disregard a warning like that – not after everything he'd already experienced today. Who knew the depths of depravity Lucifer was capable of – what other tricks he had hidden up his sleeve? He curled his fingers into the mattress, his nipples peaking in the wake of a sudden flutter of nerves. His body had been hot-wired, and Lucifer was at the wheel.

All he could do was hope he survived the resulting crash.

Lucifer withdrew, Alastor's hole clenching at the absence of him – and snapped his hips forward again so suddenly it wrenched a bleat from his throat, his head twisting back as he gasped for air. No mercy, not any longer, and the soundproofing charms on the room were working overtime to suppress the near constant stream of helpless, choked sounds Alastor couldn't lock away – not to mention the steady whisper of Lucifer's words, blasphemous prayers tumbling so heavily from his lips that they fell to settle on Alastor's skin, burned into him like a brand.

Pleasure had him in its grip, his cock aching and his ass throbbing as Lucifer fucked into him, his arms trembling with how his claws ripped into the bed and set soft foam spilling through the rents in the sheets. His brain might well be rattling against the inside of his skull, every thrust bouncing his head against the pillows – until his antler caught on one of them, another rip of fabric joining the cacophony.

“That's it. You can do it, let me feel you come. Fuck – Alastor, you're so—”

Alastor didn't get to find out what he so was, not this time. Lucifer ground into him, deeper than before, and it felt like somebody had hooked Alastor up to a car battery as another climax ripped through him, his throat opening in a wail of feedback as his eyes flicked to dials. His antlers grew to shred what remained of that pillow, his cock twitching as he spurted his orgasm onto his belly – smearing it against the mess already clinging to him, slippery slick mixing with the cool tackiness of his first orgasm.

He clenched down, muscles spasming around Lucifer's cock as his thighs clamped automatically back around Lucifer's hips and his back curved from the bed – and Lucifer dropped his head, muffling his own moan into the side of Alastor's ribs, burying his teeth in his skin as he came. Alastor could feel it – the pulse of Lucifer's climax, the spill of his come leaking onto the sheets – and something like an echo of pleasure washed through him, a shudder wracking his limbs as his own cock gave a last, weak little spurt, dribbling onto his belly.

Alastor sucked in air, vision too hazy to keep his eyes open. He was shivering, adrenaline leaving his system as Lucifer panted above him, a soft whimper bouncing in his throat when the other man withdrew completely. He was like a ship cut from its mooring, drifting on the open ocean and soon to sink and drown, his guts twisted and tangled.

A desperate blat of static followed Lucifer's retreat, the idea that Lucifer would just leave him here too difficult to ignore. Maybe this game had been too much for him – maybe he'd decided the whole thing hadn't been as fun as he'd initially hoped.

Alastor ached all over – his legs, his wrists, his tail and his back. His ass, still twitching and stretched, thoroughly defiled for the day. His heartbeat drummed in his ears, the desire to curl in on himself and think over his own ruin prickling at the back of his mind. The mattress dipped and shifted as Lucifer eased himself off the edge of it, and Alastor squeezed his lids shut, doubt assailing him from all sides.

The soft, warm touch of a cloth snapped him from his thoughts. It swirled in a smooth, almost reverent motion, gently wiping the cooling spend from his stomach. Alastor’s eyes fluttered open, world swimming back into a hazy, post-coital lucency. Lucifer wasn't leaving. He was… cleaning him.

The King of Hell’s expression was unreadable, a gentle focus replacing the sharp, predatory gleam of moments before. He worked in silence for a moment, the only sound the faint, wet slide of the cloth and Alastor’s own breaths.

“There now,” Lucifer murmured, his voice low, husky, and somewhat slurred from his own doubtlessly earth-shattering orgasm. “Can’t have my favorite Overlord lying in his own mess, can I?”

A weak burst of static, more confusion than protest, escaped Alastor’s throat. The portion of his brain that would normally come up with a snarky response – or perhaps a sharp quip – was atomized, scattered like ash. Instead, he focused on just how… raw this all was. Raw, flayed open, and tender. Lucifer’s languid touch was maddening in a sense, almost more disorienting than the torment from before.

Lucifer vanished the cloth in a puff of red and gold smoke. Then, his fingertips trailed up Alastor’s side. Their motion wasn’t teasing this time, but exploring – mapping the faint red marks their passion had left behind.

“You did amazing, Al,” he praised quietly. The sincerity in his tone gently brimmed over, dropping tiny drops upon the bruise of Alastor’s doubt. “So well. I knew you could do it.”

For a moment, Alastor was silent. Terrified, even. Part of him half-wondered if the next noise he made would be his last. After all, how did one simply… speak after what had happened tonight? What had happened after Lucifer, the Devil himself, took Alastor’s pride in hand and strung it out, out, out until it shattered? Until Alastor no longer knew where his pride began and where it became part of the First Temptation.

“What’s wrong?” Lucifer’s tone was questioning now, a slight note of worry colouring the words so often called silver. “Are you alright?”

He had to answer. Needed to. Lucifer would overthink himself into a tizzy if he didn’t.

“I… succumbed,” Alastor finally managed, the words scraping out of his dry throat. Immediately, shame followed. Bitter hatred spread across his tongue. This was an admission of failure. The very thing his pride was built to avoid.

Lucifer’s chuckle was soft, airy, and practically sang with the soft hums of a cello. He leaned down, forehead resting against Alastor’s temple. “You surrendered. There’s a whole universe of difference there. You gave me your control, Alastor. Trusted me with it. That’s not failure. It’s a gift.”

He pressed a closed-mouth kiss to the corner of Alastor’s mouth. “And I’m going to treasure that.”

His sincerity was a weapon Alastor had no defense against. His mind, even his static, went quiet. The ache in his body was ebbing now, replaced by a deep, thrumming warmth that had nothing to do with arousal and everything to do with the man now drawing circles into Alastor’s stomach, hands sliding almost lovingly over his chest.

Lucifer summoned a new cloth now to wipe the spend from Alastor’s pelvis, once again with that same gentle, worshipful touch. The way Lucifer passed it over him, making sure it dipped into every one of Alastor’s crevices, was fascinating. How was it that such a divine creature – one that was hailed far and wide for both his ethereum and his power – could reel it in for a being as lowly as Alastor? The thought was almost too existential to consider.

Eventually, Lucifer finished his ministrations and vanished the cloth again. Then, with a strength that always took Alastor by surprise, he gathered the taller man into his arms and adjusted them both on the sheets – sheets that he cleaned with a low hum of magic – before nestling Alastor against his chest. One dark arm wrapped firmly around his waist, holding him close.

This closeness was… comfortable. Secure. Almost heavenly. Alastor’s head lolled back against Lucifer’s shoulder, his body instinctively molding into the curve of the other’s. The last of the tension bled from his muscles.

“...I had half a mind that you’d leave,” Alastor admitted into the quiet, the confession falling from a place he rarely let anyone see. A place that he had so carefully kept locked up all this time.

But then again, what did he expect? This was the Devil he was speaking with. The man who had broken through God’s carefully structured world and gave it its first sin.

Lucifer’s arm tightened around him. “And miss the best part?” His voice rumbled low against Alastor’s back, matching his static beat for beat. “The part where you’re all soft and pliant and mine? Where I get to feel you come down and know I was the one who took you there? Why would I ever do that?”

It was arrogant. It was possessive. It was dripping with the same obnoxious entitlement he’d shown when the King of Hell genuinely thought buying his daughter’s love with a champagne fountain would make up for years of absence.

It was exactly what Alastor needed to hear.

“Your ego is truly a sight to behold,” Alastor retorted, but the effect was ruined by the way he sank deeper into the embrace.

“It has to be, to match yours.” Lucifer nuzzled the nape of his neck, lips brushing the sensitive skin there. “Besides, a craftsman always cleans his tools and admires his finest work.”

“Comparing me to a chisel now?”

“Comparing you to a masterpiece,” Lucifer corrected, voice losing its teasing edge for a moment and instead becoming devastatingly earnest. “One that only I can touch.”

His hand drifted downwards now, palm flattening against Alastor’s lower abdomen. A warm, heavy weight settled there at his touch. It wasn’t a move towards more pleasure at all. More of a claim of proximity. Of connection. Of wanting – and offering – more.

Alastor swallowed. “This…” the words tumbled out of him before he could stop them, foreign against his tongue. “This game of ours…”

“Isn’t a game,” Lucifer finished for him. His tone left no room for argument. “Not anymore. It stopped being one the first time you got in my face and said ‘fuck you.’ You know this. You’ve always known this.” A smirk. “The bet was just another way for me to ask you out on a date.”

He shifted slightly, spreading the unmistakable, softened weight of his own spent interest against the small of Alastor’s back. The evidence of their shared climax, of Lucifer’s own loss of control. The King of Hell had not remained untouched by this encounter. The playing field, shockingly, was level.

Lucifer’s hand slid lower, slim fingers tracing the sore, well-used muscle between Alastor’s thighs. Alastor jolted at the contact, a fresh, oversensitive spark shooting through him.

“Sore?” Lucifer asked, voice dripping with a wicked, knowing sympathy.

“You are an arrogant viper,” Alastor breathed, but he made no move to push the hand away. He cast a glance over his shoulder, trying but utterly failing to send the fallen angel a glare.

“I know.” Lucifer’s fingers stilled now, simply resting there with a warm, possessive pressure. “Let me take care of it.”

A portal, smaller this time, shimmered into existence just beside the bed. From it, Lucifer withdrew a small, ornate pot of salve that smelled of mint. He opened it with a small pop and dipped his fingers into it.

Alastor watched, mesmerized, as those skilled, devilish fingers disappeared behind him. He expected a smirk, a taunt, another attempt to enter his hole. Instead, Lucifer’s expression was one of intense concentration. His golden eyes darkened with something that looked unnervingly like devotion.

The first touch was, interestingly enough, quite clinical. Cool salve soothed Alastor’s abused skin. But then, Lucifer’s touch gentled further, becoming a slow, circular massage. It was enough to make Alastor’s throat bob. This wasn’t about renewing arousal or demanding more lust, though Alastor’s body thrummed with the memory of it. It was about… care. Alastor, the Radio Demon, was being meticulously, tenderly cared for by the Devil himself.

A low, involuntary sound vibrated in his chest. Pure static – and relief. He felt Lucifer smile against his shoulder.

“See?” Lucifer’s voice was thick with satisfaction far deeper than any sort of carnal triumph. “This is what I wanted. Not just your begging or pleasure. This. You, here, with me. Undone, satisfied… and happy to have me put you back together.”

He pressed a soft kiss to the corner of Alastor’s mouth. “You’re magnificent.”

The last of Alastor’s doubt shattered at those words. It rose to the skies in hundreds of tiny pieces before evaporating under the relentless force of Lucifer’s affection. The carefully constructed walls around Alastor’s heart, already battered by the evening’s events, crumbled to dust. Suddenly, there was a new feeling bubbling up – one that he would dare to call joy.

He turned his head, catching Lucifer’s lips in a kiss. It was gentle, deep, and tasted of salt and brimstone. A flavor that was so terrifyingly close to promise. Lucifer’s body stilled, his shock swallowed by Alastor’s own awe.

When they parted, Lucifer’s eyes were wide. Genuine surprise flashed in their golden depths. He opened his mouth – likely to snark – but no words came. Only the flick of that forked tongue Alastor knew so well.

Alastor offered him a small, real smile. One without calculation or malice. A rare, unguarded gift – one that he knew Lucifer would treasure for centuries to come.

“It would seem,” he said, voice barely a whisper, “that you’ve won more than just your little bet, Starlight.”

Lucifer’s answering grin was blinding. He pulled Alastor even closer, their bodies slotting together perfectly amidst the sheets. “I know, Bambi. I know.”

He nuzzled back into the crook of Alastor’s neck, voice a contented murmur. “Now, relax. Let me take care of you.”

And for the first time, Alastor did exactly that. He closed his eyes and sank deep into the unfamiliar, terrifying, wonderful sensation of being truly, completely loved.

~fin~