Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“You keep dancin’ with the Devil, one day he's gonna follow you home.”

Summoning a denizen of Hell to the mortal plane is actually a very exact science.

Not that humans realize this. Nor do they seem to realize that they lack the heat-scalded vocal chords and hyper-flexible tongue necessary to properly pronounce the true name of a demon. And, of course, you need a name to summon any supernatural creature, demons included. This is why the vast majority of humans’ summons go unanswered, because they are essentially the occult equivalent of gibberish broadcast backwards through a shitty vocoder so they never get routed where the summoner intends. Add to that the rules about circles and material components and symbols…

You get the picture. It usually goes something like this: Boo-dee-doo. We’re sorry, your summon could not be completed as dialed. Please rework your spell and try again. Or kindly fuck off.

However, there are rare occasions where a human can get close enough to generate something resembling actual success. At least close enough to send a general alert to any demons with names resembling the words said in the spell or written on the circle. It's as if the cosmic switchboard goes ‘eh, sounds like you're looking for one of these fuckers’ and routes the summons to a bunch of demons’ preferred methods of contact. The first one to answer is the lucky winner and gets to speak with the human.

As a consequence, when the rare summons does make it through, it might reach any powerful demon with a close enough name to part of the spell, who can then decide to entertain it or not.

Any demon.

Even the Devil himself.

Not that Lucifer does. No, interacting with souls that are very likely to shuffle off the mortal coil directly into his kingdom isn't his idea of fun; he doesn't need a front row seat to learn why they have condemned themselves to his realm, thank you very much. But, sometimes, he misses the more tangible relationship he had with humans in Eden. And for a small fraction of those sometimeses he misses it so much that he succumbs to the temptation to answer a summons, even if the human on the other end is likely to be of questionable morality.

This particular summons is going absolutely nothing like Lucifer expected.

“I know what awaits a man like me after death. But I do not want to exist in Hell a tortured soul. I want to secure myself amongst the highest demons. I want to continue to have my fun!”

Lucifer has manifested as just a pair of shining red eyes on the front of the radio this summoner is using as a conduit. It's a clever focus, honestly, allowing for a clearer projection of voice back and forth across the veil than might otherwise be possible. The Devil blinks slowly, one crimson eye after the other, at the human’s statement. “Now that's one I haven't heard before. Alright, I’ll bite. Let's chat.”

Lucifer garbs himself in the height of local fashion, a three-piece linen suit with hat and cane, all white with crimson and gold accents, and then creates a full version of himself on the material plane. He appears sitting on the altar, next to the radio and the bones and the candles and the flowers. His feet don't touch the floor, but that doesn't bother him as he crosses his left leg over his right.

The man who stands before him is grinning widely, a smudge of human blood still on his teeth. Lucifer is surprised Rosie didn't jump on the chance to deal with this guy—based on the state of the bodies scattered around he seems like he’d be right up her alley. (Rosie's actual name is Lucille Rosalind Morningtide, so they get the same ping often when it comes to summons written with certain glyphs, not to mention there is a lot of overlap between calling the Devil and calling demons in general.) And this isn't the first time this human has tried to summon a demon from Hell—Lucifer can tell by the faded markings on the floor, leaving a sheen of residual energy about the place—so he's got a stubborn streak she could no doubt leverage to her advantage. Ah well, her loss.

If the human is surprised by Lucifer’s physical form he doesn't let on, so the Devil continues their conversation. “It's power you want?”

The human takes a step towards him, though not out of the circle. “Yes, but not now. When I arrive in Hell I don't want to start at the metaphorical bottom of the heap.”

Lucifer hums, looking the man up and down. He doesn't balk under the scrutiny as Lucifer takes in his tailored clothing and smooth olive-toned skin and fine-boned face. Even behind glasses his intense brown eyes glitter in the firelight and the waves in his dark hair take on a bronzed hue. In fact, when Lucifer meets his gaze again the man lifts his chin, natural confidence laid upon his shoulders like a mantel, daring the Devil to find him wanting. “And what would you offer in exchange for such a boon?”

For the first time the human falters, the tiniest twitch of one eye. “I thought souls were the typical currency of demons?”

Lucifer hums again and shrugs. “If I were a typical demon, sure. But I’m not.” He smirks, curious to see how clever this practitioner is in addition to his demonstrated competence. “Souls are of no interest to me as my power doesn't depend on them.”

The gears visibly turn behind those intelligent eyes and it takes but a moment for him to put the pieces together; this human is not only well-educated in this arena, but also smart enough to know how to use his knowledge, and that makes genuine interest pique within the Devil. “Lucifer,” the man whispers, a hint of Creole accent softening the syllables. At least he sounds properly awed, even if he doesn't move a fraction out of his cocky stance.

“The one and only!” Lucifer stretches his arms up overhead, lengthening his back and feeling it crack in a few places—material bodies are so weird—and then he jumps off the altar to land on silent feet. “I’ll leave it up to you whether or not it's lucky that you got me instead of a lesser demon, but here I am. So what do you think is worthy of a deal with the Devil?”

He turns as Lucifer walks around the edge of the summoning circle, never allowing his back to be towards the King of Hell. Very smart man.

His answer is even smarter.

“I offer you knowledge. Experiential knowledge, not theoretical and not written. Unfettered access to my life, such that it is, at any time or place. I will guide you through the mortal world and facilitate your enjoyment of it for the years to come.”

Lucifer stops and stares. Oh, this human is fascinating. “Would it surprise you to learn that I have no interest in your,” he nudges a lifeless body on the floor with the toe of his boot, “hobbies?”

“Would it surprise you to learn that I do far more with my time than stalk, murder, and eat rude, privileged assholes?”

He can't help a smile at that. How cheeky. If he's afraid of Lucifer at all he certainly hasn't let on. “Touche. And what do you do when you are not engaging in the highest of sins, sinner?”

“I am a radio show host, a rather well-known one in this part of the country. Before that I built a name for myself in jazz clubs and speakeasies as a pianist and vocalist. I could show you everything from the highest elite society soirees of New Orleans to the backest of back-door Louisiana speakeasies. Food, music, parties. Literature, art, philosophy. Scientific discoveries. Emerging technologies.”

Again, fascinating. Remarkable, really. “And how did you conclude that this would be something I’d want?”

He shrugs, as if it is nothing. “Why would the Devil deign respond to someone like me if he wasn't curious by nature? And why would he use knowledge as a temptation to Eve if it did not hold value to him?” The mortal gestures with his hands as he talks and Lucifer tracks them: long, elegant fingers, clearly dextrous. A pianist indeed. “Further, if my soul is of no use to you, then likely so are my skills as a voudou practitioner. Nor can I imagine the Devil would need me to do his wet work for him here on Earth. Ergo, I offer you knowledge that could not be easily gleaned from a book and would be enhanced by a human guide.” For the first time he looks away from Lucifer, eyes focusing over the Devil's shoulder, gaze going distant. The silence before his next sentence is decidedly uncomfortable. “It is either that or my body. And I’d rather n-”

“No!” Lucifer interrupts him, one of his hands going up in a gesture to stop. “No, no. I’m only interested in that which is willingly given.”

The summoner's oh-so-human eyes sharpen once again and snap to meet Lucifer's, gleaming with approval. “Not interested in murder. Nor cannibalism. Nor rape. What sins are of interest to you?” Lucifer isn't going to answer that—it's too much information for a mortal to burden themselves with—but then this human pieces it together himself, clever bastard. And said human lights up as realization blossoms, catching Lucifer off-guard by how striking he is.

“Oh,” he steps in closer to Lucifer, to the very edge of the circle, leaving naught but a handspan between them. Lucifer has to look up to keep eye contact. “You are interested in none of them. Hell is your punishment, too. To bear witness to all that mortal souls have done wrong with the gift you gave them. For all eternity.” The man’s smile gets wider as his head tilts to the side. “Perhaps you might like to see how we sinners make good things happen along with the bad?”

For the first time in a very long time Lucifer feels seen. He feels known. It is heady, almost overwhelming. He makes a very rash decision. “Before we make a deal, could I get a demonstration of what's on offer? Test your skills as a guide?”

“Right now?”

“No time like the present.”

“Well, I suppose I can dispose of these bodies tomorrow…” He breaks the circle with a scuff of his boot, then turns toward the door and extends his arm to Lucifer like a gentleman about to take a lady for a stroll. “Shall we?”

__________

Their first stop is a place called the Greenway, a jazz club and speakeasy that “threads the needle for nighttime venues: high end enough to have good liquor, while low brow enough to have good music,” so his companion, Alastor, reports. It is also where Alastor's friend, Mimzy, performs, so he has some sway there.

It's already rounding on midnight when they arrive, but Mimzy slinks down off stage at the end of her song and greets them with a freshness he would expect when the evening is just starting. “Alastor, darling!” She practically scampers up to them, the beads on her dress tick-tacking. “This is a lovely surprise! You said you were busy tonight and couldn't play for me. And who have you brought into this esteemed establishment? I thought I knew all the big timers from here to Savannah.”

“This is-”

Lucifer takes up her hand and mimes kissing the back of it; they hadn't discussed a pseudonym and he doesn’t want Alastor to stumble. “Lou. Lou Morningside. Old friend of Al’s.” Her well-manicured eyebrow arches at the use of the nickname ‘Al’, but he isn't called silver-tongued for nothing. “Just got into town from Chicago, bit of a surprise for Al. Haven't seen each other since we were kids. We used-”

Alastor jumps in, easy as breathing. “To play music together. Started in church, of all places.” Lucifer has to cover his snort of laughter by clearing his throat and Alastor winks at him. “Have you kept up with the violin?”

“Of course,” Lucifer scoffs. “Who do you think I am?”

He hums. “Thirteen years can make anyone a stranger.”

“Has it really been that long?” Lucifer sighs wistfully and he sees a glimmer of mischief reflected back at him in Alastor's gaze. He decides to up the ante in their game. “Seems like only yesterday Al was doing those soprano solos in the boys choir.” Damn, his smile remains firmly in place. Perhaps a different tactic to get him to crack a little. “All the church ladies said he sounded like an angel, but I knew better. He could tempt the Devil with that voice.”

Oh, any chance that little bit of flirting could backfire is worth it to see that blush rise on Alastor's cheeks. He is surprised by it enough that he doesn't immediately respond and that finally gives Mimzy a chance to get a word in.

“Well aren't you two peas in a pod!” Her curiosity at exactly what his relationship is with her friend is palpable—she's nearly vibrating with it. “Come along, let me get you two a perch and we can see if I can convince either of you to help tonight's band out. The second group called in sick, so these boys are on the hook for the whole night—I’m sure they’d appreciate a break.”

A few minutes later Mimzy has shooed some people away from the packed bar and sat them down. She hollers to the barkeep for Alastor's favorite rye and then is whisked away by a gentleman in a dark grey suit and matching top hat who screams ‘easy mark’ even to Lucifer.

“She's going to rob that man blind,” Alastor muses after taking a sip from the tumbler that was just put down in front of him. “But coming in here, wearing that, he likely deserves it.”

Lucifer eyes the man. “Is he dressed that differently from me?”

“No.” He looks at Lucifer sideways, his grin morphing into a smirk. “But you're clearly with me, so no one would dare rough you up.” Alastor leans over to whisper. “I have quite the reputation with a knife.”

The Devil chuckles and tilts himself towards his human guide. “I'm sure you do. Although I doubt anyone here knows how you hone that skill.”

Something flashes across those bourbon brown eyes, but it is gone before Lucifer can catch it. Alastor sips at his drink again before answering. “No. Just you.”

Instinct tells Lucifer that Alastor has a lot of secrets, not the least of which are the hobbies he engages in out in that tarpaper shack. The King of Hell has the power to read further into this human, know the shape of his thoughts and dreams and fears, but he’d rather learn them organically. He wonders how many of Alastor's secrets he might collect and hoard for himself.

“Do you want to go up there and play?” The human interrupts the Devil's musings.

“I’m game for whatever activities my guide has planned.” Lucifer raises his tumbler and takes his first sip. It burns like hellsmoke itself on the way down and he winces before letting out a slight cough.

Alastor laughs, quiet but genuine. “You would like it sweet.” He slides off the barstool and ducks back behind the bar. In a second he's got a jar of bright red spheres in a reddish liquid and he's pouring a good amount of said liquid into Lucifer's tumbler. “With liquor this good I’d normally call adding maraschino syrup a sin, but somehow for you it just seems fitting.”

He puts the jar back while watching Lucifer take a sip. The sharp flavors of the rye have been dulled by sugar and cherries and it goes down a whole lot smoother. Alastor shakes his head and makes his way back around to his seat.

“Of course you have a sweet tooth.” He sighs dramatically. “No accounting for taste.”

“Coming from a cannibal I’m somehow not insulted.” Lucifer winks when Alastor laughs at that.

The human stares at him for another moment, just watching with an expression that might almost be affectionate as he continues to sip at his drink. “Can you even get drunk?” He asks after Lucifer takes another large swig.

His overly chipper response of ‘Nope!’ is worth it for Alastor's eyeroll. Then he admits the truth. “Well, not unless I want it to.”

“Do you want it to?”

“And risk forgetting even a moment of this?” Even Lucifer blushes at that admission, though he bets Alastor's is much darker. “Nah,” he looks down at the melting ice cubes in his glass, swirling them around. “Don't think that's the goal for tonight.”

He sees a motion out of the corner of his eye and tracks it to find Alastor tracing the rim of his tumbler with those long pianist's fingers of his. “And what exactly is your goal?” The human's voice is closer than it should be, but suddenly Lucifer can't look away from Alastor's hand.

His goal was to get to know Alastor, to find out if he actually wanted to spend time with him as part of the terms of their deal. But he already has his answer, in spades. He might actually have too much of an answer. Then again, he’s always too much, so that's nothing new.

“Nuh-uh, I know that ruse,” the Devil deflects. “I tell you my goals then you run down them like a checklist and suddenly I'm hopping the next portal home.”

Alastor turns further towards him and leans in close to whisper in Lucifer's ear. “Cutting our evening short is the last thing on my mind.”

Heat, so much warmer than anything the alcohol could cause, blooms in Lucifer's belly. Alright. That's where they're going. Both of them.

It can't be accidental when the tip of Alastor's nose glides across Lucifer's cheekbone as he backs away. He meets Lucifer's gaze for a moment before knocking back the last of his rye. “Come on, let's go play the house down.” He jerks his head toward the stage and starts weaving through the crowd.

Lucifer finishes his drink with two gulps and moves quickly to catch up to the taller man. He takes off his hat and coat as he goes and he's starting to roll his sleeves up when he falls into place beside Alastor. The band leader, trumpet in hand, stops mid-sentence when Lucifer arrives. He looks from Lucifer back to Alastor with suspicion.

“He’s a friend, Pete,” Alastor explains.

“Since when are you friends with vanilla cake eaters?”

Alastor's eyes narrow, his irritation seething out through his teeth. “Do we need to take this discussion outside?”

Pete holds both hands up in surrender. “Nah, man. It's copacetic. You want the next hour?”

“And Finney’s violin.”

The tall, lanky guy who must be Finney because he's holding said string instrument walks up and shrugs. “Looks like he can afford to buy me a new one if he bashes mine.” He hops down off the stage and hands the violin and bow to Lucifer. “You can get me a new fiddle, right?”

Lucifer hums, his attention immediately going to the violin. He can feel the history in the wood; it was crafted with care, passed down through a few generations. “I don't intend on harming this one, but yes, if need be.”

A few moments later they're up on stage. Lucifer sits backwards on the piano bench as he finishes tuning to his liking. “What was that all about?”

Alastor hums. “You look wealthy and white, characteristics of a person I am not known to associate with when they are in combination.” He stretches his fingers and it takes effort for Lucifer to not be distracted again. “Have you ever played jazz? Or blues?”

“Nope,” Lucifer says brightly, but quiet enough that only the human next to him can hear. “But eight thousand or so years of practice can't put me too far behind.”

“Thousand…” Alastor trails off and then shakes himself out of it. “Right. Are you familiar with classical music, like Mozart? Beethoven?”

Hey that's a name Lucifer definitely knows. “Oh! Yes! Ludwig's been in Hell about a century now. He’s still composing, you know. Also still deaf as a damned doornail, but maybe he's a special part of someone else's Hell, too.”

A sharp bark of laughter comes from his right and when Lucifer looks over to Alastor he’s struck breathless: in the stage lighting, with his laughing smile and delighted eyes, he looks more angelic than human. Which is objectively hilarious given his proclivities, but is no less beautiful.

Lucifer stands, needing the distance to recompose himself, and then nods to Alastor.

“I’ll start with something familiar to you, then slide into a jazz style. Once you get a feel for how I’m changing the arrangement, join in any time. Hopefully we'll be able to read each other well enough.”

“We will.” He has a feeling about it. Lucifer steps around the piano so he can be in Alastor's sight line and in front of the audience. When he stops moving, Alastor starts.

dun dun dun duuuunnn

There's a murmur around the room as Alastor plays some of the most famous notes in history, the opening to Beethoven's Fifth Symphony. Excitement electrifies Lucifer, from top to toes, and he knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that this is gonna be fun.

A few more measures in and the entire feel of the music changes: Alastor adds flourishes in some places, while in others he makes the notes swoop, slurring longer into the next phrase, and then hitting the next notes harder and sharper. The music develops a distinct sway to it. Lucifer follows along, comparing what Alastor is doing to what he knows of the original and yeah, he can figure this out.

He watches Alastor carefully and when he wraps up a short glissando Lucifer joins in, matching the key and tempo.

Only a trained ear would have caught Alastor's tiny stutter as Lucifer times his entrance perfectly. Alastor looks up, an almost giddy grin on his face and fire in his eyes, and they're off.

Saying it's easy belittles the amount of skill that Alastor has accumulated in his short lifespan. But hot damn does it feel easy. It feels like they really have been playing together since they were children. Lucifer was right, they read each other like they're the other's favorite book: you know, the one that you’ve had for years whose corners have rounded from how many times you've handled the pages. They play together like they know each other.

It's only a couple minutes in and the crowd is cheering, hollering and whistling, and Lucifer is pacing the bit of stage along the piano, never getting too far from Alastor's side. As they round to what feels like the finish, Lucifer ends up standing next to Alastor. They're watching each other, not one eye on their instruments, and whatever is between them right now is alive with its power. This is a kind of magic, too, though it has been many years indeed since Lucifer wielded it.

They stop at exactly the same moment and Lucifer collapses onto the piano bench, laughing with relief that it went so well, and leaning his back against Alastor's arm and shoulder. He can feel Alastor chuckling too, a solid weight against Lucifer's back. The applause and shouting washes over them and Lucifer feels connected to Creation in a way he hasn’t felt since before he fell.

Three hours and a set with the full band later, Lucifer is sitting at the empty bar while Mimzy smokes and Alastor and the band close up shop. There's talk from the band about rolling out to another bar and Alastor is bickering with them on where to go. Lucifer watches from his seat, head resting on his folded arms. He traces the lines of Alastor's body with his eyes, trying to memorize them enough so he can draw him later, when he has to leave this all behind.

“You two really are peas in a pod, I can't deny it,” Mimzy says from the barstool next to Lucifer. “I’ve known Alastor a long while now and I’ve never, ever seen him laugh with someone like he does with you. Or let someone touch him with the ease he allows you.”

Lucifer shifts his attention to her, frowning. “Really?” He looks to Alastor and can see, now that he’s looking, how he carefully moves around the others. It's not that he doesn't touch them, but he's deliberate. And thinking back, the only person he has embraced has been Mimzy. He and Finney also seem to have a rapport, clapping each other on the shoulder and such. Otherwise, contact is minimal. Practical. Huh. Turning back to Mimzy Lucifer shrugs. “I… It's always been this way. Between us.”

“Well, then you're part of a rather exclusive club.” They both look out towards the band, who are almost done packing up. “It's good to know there's someone else who he lets in.”

Lucifer just hums. He’s not sure what to think that the only other person that Alastor has let touch him in a friendly way in Mimzy's recollection is the literal Devil. “And there's no one he’s… close to…” Fuck, how does he say this? “In other ways?”

Mimzy tips her head back and cackles. Then she sees Lucifer's shocked expression and falls into cackling once again. “Oh, honey! You're serious!” She wipes tears from her eyes. “Sweetheart, stories of people trying to bag Alastor are legendary ‘round these parts. The last time I saw someone come on to him they ended up with a fork through the middle of their hand. And that was in a much classier joint than this.”

As she keeps laughing Alastor approaches. “What's got you so worked up?” He steps in close to Lucifer and he's suddenly very aware of it.

“Oh, just telling Lou here about that time you introduced Roderick Devereaux to the alternate uses of a salad fork.”

Wow, Alastor actually growls at that. “Mimzy.” He draws the name out, rough like sandpaper.

“What?! It's a classic! Right up there with poor Whitney Waterloo and the cigarette you put out on the hem of her brand new dress.”

His eyes narrow and Lucifer gets the distinct impression that if Alastor had big upright ears, like a cat or something, they would be flat back on his head. “Mimzy,” he snaps. “Keep that trap of yours shut or I will do it for you.”

She waves at him like she's dismissing him. “Okay okay okay! I’m done! Let's get outta here so you can work off whatever mood you’ve gotten into on the dance floor.”

That seems to help Alastor relax. Well, at least his shoulders drop from where they were up by his ears. “Pete has convinced them all to go to Benny's.” He sounds somewhat less than thrilled.

“Aw, come on, Benny's is great! Whatcha got against good ol’ Ben?” Alastor raises an eyebrow and Mimzy just stares back at him. “What?”

“Do you not remember the reason I was so cordially escorted out of Benny's last time we patronized his lauded establishment?”

“And by ‘cordially escorted’ he means thrown out the back door.” Finney chimes in as he comes up behind them. “See, I say Ben can go fuck himself and we should go there tonight with the explicit purpose of antagonizing his square ass. Come on, Alastor, you know me and you can cut a rug. Let's go show him he can't get you down.”

Lucifer thinks he might have put some pieces together, but he doesn't feel confident enough to say anything. He looks to Alastor and nudges him gently with his elbow. “I’m fine with whatever. Which definitely includes harassing people who have given you shit before.”

He’s pretty sure something in Alastor's gaze softens. “Fine.”

As soon as Alastor caves Finney whoops and punches the air. “Aw yeah, I can't wait to see Ben’s face: gonna get all bunched up, like a soggy old shoe! And I’ll bet if Lou here keeps putting on the air of being some high-falutin’ white diamond, he’s not gonna kick us out until we really get under his skin.” Alastor, interestingly enough, blushes a deep scarlet.

Finney practically skips away to follow his bandmates. Mimzy shakes her head at his retreat. “I’m gonna go get my pay from Morton. I’ll meet you two peas out back.”

They gather their things and head to the back of the hall. Once he's sure Mimzy is out of earshot he leans over to Alastor. “What did I miss there?”

He glances at Lucifer out of the corner of his eye. “I was kicked out of Benny's for dancing with another man.”

Lucifer's intuition was right. “Oh, well royally fuck that guy!” They exit out the back door and Lucifer turns to face Alastor. “If you really don’t want to go, you know I can get us out of here lickety split. Just say the word. But if you want to go give this guy Hell,” and that makes Alastor smile and roll his eyes, “then I can’t think of a better person to do it with than me.”

Alastor’s expression most definitely turns fond this time. That shouldn’t twist Lucifer’s insides quite so much after only knowing this human for three or so hours.

He takes a step in close to ask the next question. “So what’s a… white diamond?” Alastor turns that same shade of red again. “Or do I not want to know?”

Of all things, Alastor looks down at his feet. Fidgets with his hands. How is this what has got him on edge? “No, it’s fine. White just refers to your skin color. The diamond part,” he swallows, clearly nervous. “Slang for a sugar daddy.” When Lucifer just blinks he continues. “A wealthy man, usually older, who spends his money ensuring his mistress or younger man is well kept. And flaunts it publicly. With the general assumption that said wealthy older man is paid back in sexual favors.”

Lucifer chuckles softly. “Honestly? That sounds like it would be fun.” Alastor’s gaze snaps up to his. “I can manifest cash out of thin air, Alastor,” he says as he pulls a neat fold of twenty and fifty dollar bills out of his coat and slides it into the watch pocket of Alastor's vest. “And I wouldn’t mind people assuming such things… if it was you I was spending it on.”

“Lucifer,” he whispers, sweeter than that cherry syrup. Dangerously sweet. “You can’t-”

The door opens and they jolt away from each other, making space for Mimzy to lead them out into the night.

______________

A couple hours later Finney stumbles off the dance floor at Benny's and practically falls into the half of the booth across from Lucifer, his curls bouncing out of the careful coif he once had them styled in. “Lou. My man, Lou,” he pants. “Now I'm not the type for violence, but if you don't go out there and dance with Al I’m gonna have to fucking kill you.”

Well that escalated unexpectedly. “Excuse me?”

“I seen how you two been watching each other since we got here. All night, really.” He grabs, seemingly randomly, one of the assorted half-empty glasses on the table and knocks back its entire contents. Lucifer is almost positive that wasn't a drink Finney ordered.

“Look, Finn, I’m not against it. Really I'm not. But I am terrible at dancing. Objectively awful.” At least for how he's watching these people dance, it's true. Measured, precise steps he can learn. This is most definitely not that. “And I don't want to embarrass him.”

Finney flat out leers at him, leaning over the table and getting far closer than is considered friendly. “Yeah, I get it. Would be such a shame if he had to teach you, all out there in public. Front of all those people. Him touching your hands, your arms. Your shoulders. Your waist.”

Lucifer can feel his face heat up and suddenly Alastor is there, hands on the table and looming over them both. “Hey Finney, what's your one job tonight?”

He pales. “Keep Angelica away from you.”

“And what aren't you doing?” Alastor uses this mockery of a baby-talk tone that comes across as terrifyingly threatening. It makes even the King of Hell a little uncomfortable—this guy is gonna be one powerful demon someday. Finney bolts away from the table faster than a speeding bullet.

Lucifer slides over in the booth and Alastor sits beside him. They're touching—feet, thighs, arms—almost immediately and it sends a thrill vibrating through Lucifer. “Be nice. Finn was trying to convince me to dance with you.”

He wouldn't have noticed the man next to him stiffening if they weren't pressed together. “Do you need so much convincing?”

The Devil laughs. “You haven't seen me dance. All I’m going to do is embarrass you.”

Alastor hums, his eyes scanning the room. “See that door over there that is for employees only?” He points to a black door to the right of the bar that once likely had ‘EMPLOYEES ONLY’ painted on it—it’s worn enough now that it looks more like ‘LMFI CYELS CNI Y.’

“You mean the one with plausible deniability written on it?”

How Alastor can make getting even the littlest huff of a laugh feel like a climactic victory Lucifer will never understand. “That’s the one. When this song ends, sneak your way through it.”

Lucifer bites his lip. “Are you sure we-”

“Give him Hell, remember?”

He’s the Devil, so he can't help but smile at that. “My favorite gift to give.”

Alastor nudges him once with his knee and then disappears back onto the dance floor.

Lucifer waits until the room is clapping for the band before he whisks himself to the end of the bar in a flash of hellfire. He appears right in front of the door and sidles through it before the shadow from the blink of light caused by his travel can dissipate.

A single bare lightbulb dangles overhead from the ceiling of the short hallway. There's an open doorway to his left that has boxes stacked beyond it and then another two doors, both closed, are further down the hall. Then an exit into what Lucifer assumes is the side alley he saw on the way in.

Hands reach out of the shadows and grab at Lucifer, startling him enough to make him jump. When he turns around Alastor's hands are still on his shoulders. “Damn you can be quiet.”

Alastor steps in closer, like he had at the edge of the summoning circle, forcing Lucifer to knock his head back to keep eye contact. “Have you ever danced formally before?”

He has, but with Alastor this close he can barely remember how to spell his own name. Fuck, he didn't realize how much he wanted him until this moment, but now it is all he can think of. “It was long enough ago that you might as well consider it a ‘no.’”

The hands on Lucifer's shoulders slide down his arms. His right hand gets taken up by Alastor's left, palms together, and held out to the side. Alastor’s right hand jumps track above Lucifer's elbow to circle beneath his arm, hand coming to rest on the Devil’s upper back. Then Alastor brings their bodies together, against each other. It feels positively heavenly.

This is different from the other dances he watched Alastor doing, where there was space between him and his partner, and Lucifer is very aware of it. Alastor looks down at him, something heated in his gaze. “Put your free hand over my shoulder, however is comfortable.”

Alastor's coat and vest were discarded at least an hour ago, so Lucifer can feel the heat of Alastor's skin through the fabric of his shirt as their arms lay over each other. It sticks to him in places, damp from the exertion of dancing on a crowded floor. A bead of sweat travels down his neck, the flickering bulb’s yellow light turning it gold. Lucifer doesn't realize he is following it with his finger until he feels Alastor's shiver directly.

“The foxtrot,” Alastor says, voice darker than the shadows around them, “is a swaying step. You can hear the beat of the music, yes?” Lucifer nods, eyes riveted to Alastor's lips. “I’ll cue the steps: when I step forward with my left foot, you step back with your right. Then same with the other foot. That's the slow slow. Then we step to the side, in the direction of our clasped hands, one foot then the other, quick quick. So the overall count is slow slow quick quick. Here, let me-”

Alastor moves to step back so he can demonstrate and there is nothing Lucifer wants less than to be apart, so he interrupts. “No. Don't.” Their eyes lock. “I got it. Just half time it at first.”

A finger on Lucifer's back starts lightly tapping out the beat of the music. Then he whispers, “Slow.” They move in tandem and that's unreasonably arousing. Or maybe it's all in Lucifer's head. Either way, he doesn't have long to think about it because the next cue is there. “Slow.” Alastor breathes in. “Quick, quick.”

Lucifer gets pulled a little on one side to avoid hitting the wall, stretching the step a little, but Alastor keeps the count. “Slow. Slow. Quick, quick.”

After another round of saying the words he changes to just mouthing them and if Lucifer wasn't captivated by Alastor's lips before he certainly is now. And with their bodies rocking and moving together, it all becomes too much, and Lucifer cracks a little. “You feel so good against me.”

Alastor stops mid-step and Lucifer's momentum presses them together from thigh to chest, legs staggered. “Lucifer,” he says again, more scolding than sweet this time. “You can't just say-”

The ‘employees only’ door is kicked open, the music volume suddenly rising, and they freeze.

The titular Ben stands there for a moment, as frozen in shock as they are, but his face is getting increasingly red. A vein fattens and pops out from the side of his neck.

Honestly, Lucifer is just pissed they got interrupted again. So he lets it out. “Hey, fuck off. Can't you see we're busy here?” Alastor chokes a little on his laugh.

“The fuck you’d just say? This is MY place! MY building!” Ben roars. With a glance Lucifer can read all he wants to know about the man, finds his weaknesses. “I don't care how good your money is, I don't want rich little boys like you-”

“Little boy?” Lucifer scoffs, his grin widening. “Funny, that wasn't what your wife was calling me last night.” He pauses just long enough for that to sink in but not long enough for Ben to get another word out. “Or your son the night before.”

That same bright bark of laughter from before erupts from Alastor, sending pure delight through the Devil. But that also snaps Ben out of his anger paralysis and he lunges for them, snarling like a rabid dog.

Lucifer unfurls his wings and flaps once, knocking Ben flat on his ass and pushing him and Alastor in the opposite direction. His back slams into the exit door, opening it, and Alastor is pulling at his vest yelling, “Go, go, go, go!”

They scramble into the alley backwards, keeping their focus on the door. Once they're completely out Lucifer snaps his fingers and the door becomes a solid brick wall.

“Holy shit,” Alastor gets out between panting breaths. “We should move. Come on.” He grabs Lucifer's hand and takes off.

They run madly for more than a few blocks, high on the danger of the moment. It's exhilarating, but eventually Alastor comes to a stop, chest heaving like a bellows as he stumbles to lean against the wall of a bakery that might be starting their early morning prep soon.

Lucifer takes up position next to Alastor, pressing their shoulders together, and he tilts into him; he’s there, solid, just like he has been all night. Warmth hums happily in the Devil's chest.

“Fuck,” Alastor groans. “Finney better grab my coat and vest.”

“I’ll make you new ones if not.”

They glance at each other for a moment and then Alastor is taking Lucifer’s hand again and dragging him down the street and into an old cemetery. They weave through rows of above ground tombs, snaking around until Alastor stops at a park-like center. He tugs Lucifer to sit down on a stone bench with him under an enormous old cypress tree, its branches heavy with curtains of Spanish moss. Neither lets go of the other's hand.

“The sun’s gonna come up soon,” Lucifer sighs after a while.

Alastor hums, just starting to get his breathing back under control. “Do you vanish at the first touch of the dawn’s rays?”

“Nah,” Lucifer chuckles. “Vampires aren’t real.”

Alastor's smile is softened by moonlight. “Says the Devil himself who sits beside me.”

This night has been far more wonderful than Lucifer could ever have anticipated. He hasn’t felt this good in… he doesn’t want to think about how long. And he knows he will soon have to return to his chaotic realm and his strained marriage and his lonely existence… but not yet. He doesn't have to leave just yet.

Lucifer snaps his fingers and thirteen lifelike ducks appear about ten feet away. Their unique nature is revealed when they each pull out their very own tiny instrument—trumpets, trombones, clarinets, saxophones, a violin, a drum set, a piano, and a double bass—and start in on a slow, moody jazz set.

Alastor stares at the animals, clearly wondering if he has gone totally around the bend. When he looks back to Lucifer it takes a few tries before words come out. “Ducks?”

“Ducks are one of the finest creatures in Creation and I will tolerate no slander on their good name, but that is beside the point.” He stands and takes the hand he is holding with him, bowing over it with courtly grace he only faintly remembers ever using elsewhere. Meeting Alastor's shocked expression he smiles. “Shall we pick up where we left off?”

There is one terrible moment where Lucifer thinks Alastor is going to reject him, that it really was just some fun to piss off the bar’s owner, as if they weren't gravitating towards each other like two doomed stars, circling closer and closer. But then Alastor rises and takes up the leading role once more. For a breath Lucifer quite literally feels swept off his feet—it lasts until he gets his legs under him and steps in close, easily settling into following once more.

Slow. Slow. Quick, quick.

Alastor’s hands, which have captivated Lucifer from the start, are holding him and how can so little feel so damned consequential?

They make it through a minute or so of music before Alastor's grip tightens further, bringing them so close they can't even make eye contact. When Alastor bows his head his lips brush against Lucifer's temple. “How many other beings in this world or the next can say they have danced with the Devil?”

Lucifer lets his eyes slip closed and leans his head into Alastor's touch as they continue to turn and step and sway on the soft grass. “Danced like this? Before tonight? Two. And one of them was my daughter when she was little and we were hobbling side to side.”

“That must have been when she was what, three? Four years old? To match your height?”

“Har har. A short joke. I’ve never heard one of those before.”

He can feel Alastor's smile tuck in above his ear, but it only lasts a moment before the man’s tone becomes more serious. “You… have a family?”

Lucifer sighs. “Had. My wife… we fought. I mean, we always fought, but this… she left. Took our daughter with her. I haven't seen them in…” Stiffness seeps into Lucifer's neck and shoulders. “A very long time.” It is hard to continue, but he knows he wants to tell Alastor this. “It's been an even longer time since I let myself get this close to someone. I didn't realize how much I missed it.”

“Lucifer,” he whispers, gentler than any of the times before. Stars above, this mortal will be his undoing. “You can't just say things like tha-”

“I think we need to change the terms of our deal,” Lucifer blurts.

The man in his arms stops short, posture going rigid. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” He knows his face is flushing, but he pushes through, leaning back just enough to catch Alastor's eye. “Because I… I don't think I can bear you being compelled to spend time with me. Or, at least, I don't want there to be any confusion. I would still like you to show me around up here… but not because you have to. I wantmph-”

Warm lips press against Lucifer's, silencing him handily. Alastor's mouth is firmly in control at first, but after a moment he softens, opening up for the barest taste of Lucifer, like he's worried he might take too much. They part slowly, lingering. “Who knew the Devil would be such a gentleman?” Alastor smiles.

Lucifer is too distracted by his companion’s mouth to answer, leaning in for another kiss. And then another. And another. When it's over Alastor's gaze is heavily lidded, smoldering embers cradled in shadow.

“New terms, then,” Lucifer whispers, eyes still darting down with every other word to look at those distracting lips, which are currently curled into a satisfied grin. Has there ever been something as deliciously sinful as this humans' mouth? “You will show me around Earth one day per lunar cycle—shall we say on the full moon?” A nod. “In return, once you have crossed into Hell (assuming you do),” Alastor makes a noise that indicates how radically unlikely he thinks any other option will be, “I will come assess what your capabilities are and assist you in gaining the power you want. If you still wish it, you will become the most powerful sinner in Hell as quickly as I can facilitate it. Any other visits or interactions before or after such a time would be at both parties’ personal discretion.”

“One additional condition,” Alastor says, an eagerness in his voice that wasn't there before. “We must have a direct way to contact each other to arrange our meetings.”

Lucifer twists his palm against Alastor's and interlaces their fingers. His smile widens into something that almost cracks his face. “Done. It's a deal.”

Alastor squeezes their hands together. “It's a deal.” He barely gets the last word out before he is taking up Lucifer's lips with his own again.

The Devil can feel the magic swirl around them and snap into place, binding them to the agreement, to each other. Even now, as a mortal, Alastor's connection to the occult is strong; he will be a formidable sinner demon even before he tries to grow his powers.

But that's a long ways off. Lucifer very much intends to enjoy the time he has with this human here on the material plane for a while yet.

___________

Lucifer is not allowed to have nice things. That's the moral of this story. He rubs at his temple as he feels a headache coming on.

Alastor's soul, now manifested as a sinner demon in Hell, lays motionless on a chaise in a back room of Rosie's Emporium.

It has been less than twenty four hours since they made their deal. Since they kissed.

“He dropped at the outskirts of Cannibal Town, skittish as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. My people seemed to recognize one of their own and alerted me immediately. Ooh, was he angry. Seems his death was quite the shock.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “Kept mentioning you by name, though. I had never heard of a sinner demanding an audience with you outright, so I knocked him out as a precaution.” She stares at Lucifer for a moment and he silently curses her perceptiveness. “But you actually do know him, don't you?”

He sighs. “Yes.” This is really not how he had planned any of this to go. And given that it is now impossible for Alastor to fulfill his end of their deal, Lucifer has no idea what will happen. Are they bound forever in a liminal agreement that can never be satisfied? Did it never start? Magically, does it even matter?

One thing Lucifer knows for sure is that it will do Alastor no favors to be seen as the teacher's (er, King’s) pet right out of the gate—it would just put a giant target on his back. They need to talk, but must do so discreetly. Which is neither here nor now.

“His death is entirely unexpected,” Lucifer starts, carefully choosing each word to convey exactly the amount of information he intends to give the Overlord and not a scrap more. “I need some time. To do some research. Could I impose upon you to keep an eye on him?”

Somehow he can tell Rosie's flat black eyes are looking back and forth between him and the lanky body sprawled across her couch. “And what reason do I have to not eat him right now? Other than he looks a little gamey.”

Right. This is why he doesn't like working with sinners.

“I’ll be generous and give you two. One, he was a cannibal and a serial killer in life.” Her eyes do light up at that and it gives Lucifer the heebie-jeebies. “Two, he's the only human I’ve known to try to make a deal with a demon to secure himself power in the afterlife, after he is condemned to Hell, not before. He asked for nothing while he was living.” He doesn't need to tell her that a deal was actually made.

“Interesting.” Rosie takes a longer look at Alastor and it shouldn't make Lucifer's hackles rise, but it does and he has to stomp down on his instinct to make it clear that this sinner is his. “And what do I get in return for babysitting for the King of Hell?”

“I don't make deals with my subjects. What you are getting is first dibs to influence a new sinner who is ambitious to a fault, willing to make a deal, and already skilled in the occult. I feel like that is plenty of benefit to you. And the moment it isn't beneficial, just drop him. Without a deal with me you can do as you want.” He makes a dismissive gesture, as if he doesn't care.

“Alright, your Majesty. I’ll adopt your stray… deer.”

Huh. It does look like he has little antlers on his head, doesn't it? How odd. “Thank you,” Lucifer nods to her. “I need to be on my way.” He puts his hat back on and makes a portal, but stops just before stepping through to look back at the two sinners. “Don't tell him I was here.”

He doesn't wait to see how Rosie responds, just steps into the portal and is home.

Lucifer lets out a long breath, resonant with fatigue. He’s absolutely gutted that there will not be another night out in New Orleans with Alastor and he will need to mourn that. But, far more selfishly, Lucifer is happy to have Alastor so close at hand. He will be able to protect him more easily from here. And see him more often.

But first, research on the magic of deal-making. And a cup of coffee. And a nap. Not in that order.

_____________

Time passes differently for someone who has been around since Creation itself.

No, that's a lie. The passage of time is marked differently for creatures who have existed for billions of years. Which is why, Lucifer tells others, he is so terrible with remembering when to do things. A day might as well be a minute to him, a year an hour.

This is not the first time this quirk of his has come back to bite him in the ass. But it is certainly the loudest.

Apparently it has been almost four years since Alastor died. He was shot by a hunter. Mistaken for a young buck while out in the woods—he was disposing of the bodies he neglected in order to have a night on the town with the Devil. Humoring Lucifer was Alastor's fatal mistake. A mistake he won't make again, apparently.

Lucifer knows all this because the sinner demon has shouted, growled, and screamed the information at him over the course of the past half hour. He has also punched a startling number of holes in the marble walls of the palace’s foyer.

“So, my question is, your Majesty,” and wow is he able to spit that title out with an impressive amount of venom, “Where. The fuck. Have. You. Been.”

The sound of radio static weaves through Alastor's voice, crackling and popping with his ragged breaths. Those are definitely antlers on his head, as they have grown as his rage has built upon itself during his tirade. His hair is longer than in life, bright red dipped in black, with two large cervine ears emerging from the top of his head. Wisps of shadows curl around his clawed fingers, his eyes glowing crimson and scarlet, lighting up his manic, unfailing grin.

He's just as captivating as when they first met, if a little creepier.

“Alastor,” Lucifer speaks softly, trying to counter the sinner’s incandescent anger. “I’m sorry. I made a mistake. I didn't mean to not come visit. When I left you with Rosie-”

Feedback screeches through the air. “YOU WHAT?!”

Shit.

The sinner demon’s sclerae have gone midnight black, the irises and pupils of his eyes changing to look like blood red radio dials. The shadowy magic around him takes on a green glow and arcane sigils swirl in the air around him. Not good.

Alastor stalks forward, voice suddenly monotone and hauntingly calm. “Are you saying that you knew where I was? You knew I was in Hell and you didn't come to me? You completely ignored our deal?”

“That's what I was researching, Alastor.” Angry feedback slices through the air again when Lucifer says his name. “I was looking into the magic of deals. And because your end became an impossibility, because you can't show me Earth as a human, then my part is also null and void. It dissolved when you died. There is no deal between us.”

Alastor snarls and pulls himself up to his full height. He towers over Lucifer even more than he did in life. “Good,” he spits. “I would not have myself in debt to such a selfish, rude, privileged creature.”

Lucifer's heart sinks as he is described using exactly the same words Alastor used to talk about the people he chose to murder. Oh, that hurts a whole lot more than he could have ever expected. It's Lilith and Charlie walking away all over again. No. Fuck. Tears well up in his eyes.

The sinner demon turns on his heel, towards the door of the palace, speaking without looking back. “I think it best for both of us that we pretend that we never met.”

“Alastor, please-” His voice cracks.

“Goodbye, Lucifer.”

“Alastor!” Lucifer shouts, reaching out, but the demon is gone before the fallen angel can remember how to move.

He doesn't chase after him. Lucifer knows he fucked this up all in his own. Fuck.

Alastor's human voice comes back to him through the years: ‘Hell is your punishment, too.’

If only Alastor knew just how right he was.

_______

Even curled in bed in a cocoon of blankets, Lucifer recognizes the voice of the creature who will come to be called the Radio Demon with the first syllable he utters over the airwaves. The radio’s crackle of static can't hide the voice Lucifer has replayed in his head over and over and over again.

“Greetings and salutations sinners!”

He listens every night (or day, or whenever it airs), ignoring the screams of victims being broadcast in between sets of jazz so that he can hear Alastor's voice and confirm that he is still alive. And once he realizes who the screams are from, that Alastor is taking out the worst of the worst Overlords first, he doesn't even mind listening to that.

The radio show has the added benefit of being something that Lucifer can use to pace his days—the Radio Demon’s show rapidly becomes the thing that determines the cadence of his life, giving him a regularity he isn't sure he has ever had at any other time in his vast existence.

Listen to Alastor's voice. Rest, sleep if he is lucky. Wake up. Eat. Mope around the palace. Maybe make some new rubber ducks. Maybe eat again. Maybe send another letter out into the void, hoping his wife will write back. Take a nap. Mope some more. And by then he's at the next broadcast.

Rinse. Repeat.

He feels how Alastor is pulling power into himself, just like he can feel when Zestial and Carmilla and Maestro and Rosie and the other powerful Overlords interact with Hell’s magic. While the firmament that would become the rings of Hell was there before Lucifer's Fall, it was Lucifer’s appearance that brought Creation, and therefore magic (which is a manifestation of the Creative) to this plane.

This means sometimes, in his darkest moments, when he is alone and a little desperate, Lucifer reaches out through the arcane that flows through Hell to feel for Alastor's power.

What's even more terrible than this transgression is that Alastor never, ever retreats from him here. And, to be clear, he could retreat. Rather easily, in fact. Instead he stands, confident as he was in that summoning circle, and lets Lucifer touch his fill, though he never responds in kind. For fleeting moments Lucifer imagines them back in that cemetery, dancing under the moonlight, every point of contact soft and electric with potential.

There was so much potential there, vibrant and alive. But Lucifer fucked it up. Like he always does. And that leaves him to drown in an ocean of ‘what if’s.

He loses himself to it, each day passing in the same depressive haze as the last. More than once he almost destroys his radio, resentful that it now allows him to know how long it has been since he last held Alastor.

Hell is his punishment, too.

And then, one day, almost a century later, Alastor vanishes. He stops broadcasting only days after Lilith—who had returned to the palace with Charlie a few decades prior, ready to hold Heaven accountable for their hypocrisy—also disappears. And pretty much all of Lucifer goes with them. He doesn't even have the energy to investigate why they're gone or where they headed. Neither of them cared enough to say goodbye. None of it matters anyway. He's sure if he investigated he’d only find out exactly how he'd been at fault, how he’d caused each of them to go away.

Early on he debates reaching out for Alastor's power, or even Lilith’s, but he dreads the outcome of that far too strongly to attempt it. If he couldn't find one of them… if they were truly gone… he doesn't know if he could bear it. At least with Lilith he can keep trying to call her phone. Which he does. A lot.

And even though she is around, he most definitely can't let himself near Charlie. No, not with how he fucks everything up. He won't become a liability she has to mitigate. He won't. So he keeps his distance. From everyone.

Except then seven years pass and the hotel happens and Alastor is back and he is working with Charlie. And for all that he has been in a fog since Lilith and Alastor left, even with how worried he is that he will fuck it up again, Lucifer just can't keep away when his daughter asks for help.

He knows Alastor is there the moment he enters the hotel. Fuck, he can feel his presence even when he is across the room because he knows his magic so well.

But they are not supposed to know each other. That was what Alastor said he wanted. Except all this magnetic energy Lucifer feels has to go somewhere and the moment Alastor starts posturing for his position close to Charlie it clicks into another place: anger.

On a dime, Lucifer turns furious with the Radio Demon. How dare he try to step in and replace Lucifer in Charlie's life?! How dare he think he can protect her better than the literal King of Hell!?

And how dare he treat Lucifer's heart with such cold disdain. No. For once Lucifer will fight back. He cannot keep going on like this. If Charlie is going to give him another chance he sure as Hell isn't going to let Alastor be the one to take it away from him.

And if antagonizing Alastor also keeps them in close proximity, so be it. At least it is Lucifer himself hurting Alastor and not anyone else.

And he can help Charlie. That's what really matters. That's enough.

He keeps telling himself that. Daily. Because it has to be enough. It has to.

Until Alastor materializes out of the shadows of Lucifer's bedroom and everything changes.

_______________

Alastor just appears in the King’s personal chambers in the palace, a place that the sinner demon has never been before. The only way that is possible is if he knew the feeling of Lucifer's own magic well enough to follow it. And the only way he could have learned that was by paying close attention when Lucifer reached out on those dark, desperate nights.

But any ability to consider the implications therein, not to mention any anger he holds for the sinner, is thrown out the window when he realizes that Alastor is bleeding from a huge gash across his chest.

“Alastor!” Lucifer is on his knees, pulling the Radio Demon’s head and shoulders into his lap. “Holy hellspawn, that's a lot of blood. What happened?”

“Doesn't matter.” The static that accompanies his demonic voice is thicker, making his words harder to parse. “Adam and his exorcists are attacking the hotel. Charlie needs you.”

Lucifer freezes. “What about you? I can't just leave-”

“Yes. You can. And you will. I’ll be fine here.”

He doesn't want to leave Alastor. But he also has to go help Charlie because Adam is a psychotic shitstain and he doesn't want that lunatic angel anywhere near anyone important to him. Except Alastor needs some kind of medical attention right now. If only he could-

Well, there is something he could do. Lucifer stares at Alastor, willing him to succumb to the Devil's determination. “Yes, you will be fine. Because you are going to do exactly as I tell you.”

“Fuck you, I’ll do what-” Alastor bristles, but Lucifer has already used his thumbnail to cut a slit in his wrist and has shoved the bleeding wound towards the sinner's mouth.

“Drink. It will help you heal faster.”

He's worried Alastor is going to refuse, but the moment the fallen angel’s blood touches the demon’s lips all hesitation evaporates and he latches on, an obscene moan vibrating through his chest. Cannibal, right. Just don’t think about how good his mouth feels on your skin. You can have a crisis over that later.

Lucifer lets him swallow once, twice, thrice, and then wrestles his arm away—he’s going to need his strength if he’s going up against a bunch of angels. The demon snarls at him, angry at the loss, dark golden blood all over his teeth and tongue. With a growl, Alastor surges up.

The Devil holds his arms above his head, trying to get his vulnerable wrists away from Alastor's open mouth, but apparently that's not what the sinner demon is aiming for at all.

Blood-slick lips press to Lucifer's, insistent enough to convey a hint of desperation. There's a nanosecond where Lucifer startles, but once he realizes what is happening he groans and tilts his head until their mouths slot together seamlessly. Fuck, it's exactly like he remembers, like Alastor was made for this; they fit perfectly. Oh, he could live here and be happy for the rest of his days.

He's pushed away far too soon. “Go. Help your daughter,” Alastor pants.

Lucifer can't stop himself from darting in to steal another kiss. “You better still be here when I get back.”

“I’ll likely pass out the moment you leave, so I do not foresee that being an issue.” Impossibly, the Radio Demon's ever-present grin turns a familiar shade of fond. “Now GO.”

He's gone in a swirl of fire, Alastor’s sweet smile held close to his heart.

__________________

Lucifer returns to find Alastor slumped against the side of his bed, a piece of fabric torn from the bedsheets tied tightly around his chest, under his open shirt. Blood has soaked through in spots, but it doesn't look fresh. He is, indeed, passed out, his breathing even and his ears lax.

All his built up fears about coming back to find Alastor double dead wash out of him in a rush, bringing Lucifer to his knees.

He shuffles closer to the demon’s side and debates how to best approach him—enough of a startle could make his wounds worse, not to mention that scaring him off now would mean Lucifer wouldn't figure out what the fuck that kiss was about.

One ear flicks. “You think very loudly, my dear. It's enough to wake the dead.” Alastor slowly rolls his head up and then lets it loll back to rest on the mattress, turned so he can see Lucifer. “How goes it on the warfront?”

Lucifer sits with his back against the bed, too, so he can also rest his cheek on the mattress, pressing their shoulders together and putting their faces close. With the words ‘my dear’ circling around his head even the embodiment of temptation himself has trouble resisting another kiss. He succeeds, though; they really need to talk. “Adam is dead. The remaining angels retreated. Charlie won.” He knows his smile is stupid and can't bring himself to care.

Alastor looks immensely satisfied. “I knew she had it in her. Although I am impressed she took down Adam.”

“Funny story, that. I did a lot of the initial pummelling, and Charlie helped, but you know who actually finished him off?” One red eyebrow raises. “That creepy little cleaning lady.”

“Niffty!?!” Alastor outright cackles, almost gleeful. “What a delightful turn of events!!” He laughs until it makes him flinch and grab at his side.

Lucifer lays a hand over Alastor's on the bandage. “You're still hurt.”

“I was able to stitch it up, but the gash was rather large. It is smaller now, but not gone.”

The King of Hell scoots closer, until they are pressed together even more, from calves to shoulders. Alastor's arm, the one squashed between them, drops down and curves around the small of Lucifer's back. “You can have more of my blood, if you'd like.”

Bright red irises glow for a moment, static crackling in the air around them. “Why?”

“Because it’ll help you heal.”

“But why do you want to heal me?”

Ah, he meant the deeper question. There's a petulant part of Lucifer that wants to answer a question with a question: well why did you kiss me? But he has a feeling that would shut this conversation down and Alastor's question is easy enough to answer, even if said answer is extremely revealing. “Because I remember what it felt like to play music with you. To dance with you.”

Alastor's expression darkens and oh, no, that attraction Lucifer felt back then isn't gone in the slightest, is it? Even though Alastor is a demon, and a powerful one at that, Lucifer still wants him. “And how did it feel?”

Lucifer swallows audibly. Well, in for a penny… “For a moment I forgot that I had fallen from Heaven.”

Alastor lets out a long breath and, for a moment, his eyes close. Something about him seems to settle. And even though when he opens his eyes he looks hesitant, Alastor's fingers interlace with Lucifer's where they lay on his chest. “I am not who I was in life.”

“No.” Lucifer’s eyes dart up to the ears and antlers as he smiles. “But you haven't changed that much. I’ve listened to your broadcasts.”

The demon startles. “You said you didn't-”

“Recognize you? Or your radio show? Yeah, we were antagonizing each other, so I went for a low blow. And you did say that we should act as if we didn't know each other.” He feels his lips curve up further with nostalgia. “Used to listen every night. Or day. Or whenever. And then you disappeared, right around the time that Lilith did, and I…” Lucifer winces, trying to shut out the images that flash in front of him, of how he treated himself and others during that time. “I didn't do well, with two of my anchors gone.”

Of all the noises, he doesn't expect Alastor's scoff. “You can't possibly put me in the same category with-”

Lucifer uses a kiss to stop him from continuing; that thought doesn't need to be completed. “Do you know how many people I had made a deal with in the tens of thousands of years before meeting you?” Alastor blinks. “Two. And how many after our deal? Yeah, that's right: a big fat zero. I told you how many I have danced with other than you: two, my ex-wife and my daughter. How many others have I created music with since my Fall? One, Lilith.” He pauses, a little breathless. “I’m not sure you understand how rare of a gem you are.”

There's hurt in Alastor's eyes, surprisingly plain for all the armor he usually wears, along with the expected confusion. “Then why did you leave me with Rosie? Why didn't you come back?”

The Devil deflates. “I really am sorry about that.” He has the wherewithal to sound sheepish about it. “I'm not exactly good at understanding how time works, at least not how it passes for mortals, and therefore for sinners. I existed before spacetime was created and I just… got a little lost. In what I was doing. But I think I’ve gotten better at it, at tracking time. Because of you, actually.”

A fizz-pop of static. “Oh?”

“Your radio show. I would listen to every broadcast. Which was once per day, give or take. It was like a metronome, setting the beat of my days.”

It is something to see a demon of Alastor's caliber blush—Lucifer wonders how often it happens. “You couldn't possibly have listened to every broadcast.”

“Mmm, probably not. Especially at the beginning when I would still regularly lose time. But I tried to.” Lucifer squeezes Alastor's hand. “Will you take more blood? To help you heal?”

The Radio Demon's eyes roll as a breathy laugh escapes, warm against Lucifer's cheek. “Will I consume more of the most ambrosial liquid I have ever tasted? Drink more of the most satisfying libation I have had the pleasure of enjoying? I suppose I can suffer through it.”

He's teasing, Lucifer knows this, but that doesn't stop it from alerting Lucifer's cock to the current proceedings. Alastor likes the taste of his blood. And his libido apparently thinks that is a good thing. Very good. So much so that there's a bit of strain in Lucifer's tone when he asks, “Shall I cut my wrist again or would you rather bite?”

Oh, that does something to Alastor, his breath hissing through his teeth as his pupils blow wide. “You should-” He stops himself and Lucifer could scream with how he wants to know the demon’s knee-jerk response. “If I bite in this state I cannot guarantee that I won't take a chunk out of you. And eat it.”

Lucifer's heart starts kicking like a rabbit trapped in his chest. Fuuuuck. Oh, this little masochist just got himself into a whole new world of trouble. He really should have considered this before. “That's…” He literally gulps, his mouth having rapidly filled with saliva. “That's not exactly, uh, a non-starter? I don't find it… unappealing?” His voice cracks on each question.

Alastor growls, deep in his chest, the sound vibrating through their clasped hands and directly to Lucifer's dick. The sclera of his eyes darken to pitch black. Oh that's hot. Fuck fuck fuck.

“Are you saying,” the Radio Demon grinds out each word slowly, through clenched, bared teeth, “that you would allow me to consume some of your flesh?”

This is the actual reason Lucifer is in Hell. Forget the apple and Eve and free will and giving the middle finger to arbitrary cosmic rules that make no fucking sense. This is why he deserves to be in Hell: those words coming from this demon aren't off-putting in the slightest. Fuck, he can feel Alastor shaking next to him, vibrating with the restraint it takes to keep himself relatively still, and he really likes it.

“On two conditions.” Alastor's head tilts in curiosity. “You stop the exact moment I tell you to.” He nods once and Lucifer’s heart tries to crawl out through his throat the anticipation is so strong. “And you don't mind that I will react sexually to it.”

Those ruby-and-black eyes close and Lucifer's stomach drops as he reads disappointment on Alastor's face. Which, let's be clear, would make sense. He heard directly from Mimzy how Alastor used to rebuff people, even if he let Lucifer get close. Here in Hell he's heard the rumors about the Radio Demon being asexual, and from more credible sources than Angel Dust’s lewd jokes. But then an unexpected door opens.

“Define that for me. What do you mean by ‘react sexually?’”

Nevermind, this is true Hell. There's no amount of composure he can scrape together right now that will make his voice not come out breathy and erratic. “I… Well, I’m already hard.” Alastor's eyes snap open and drop to his crotch. Lucifer's traitorous knees spread under that gaze. “Just from learning you like the taste of my blood. I mean, if your bite hurts enough I’ll probably come in my pants, assuming you leave them on.” Fuck, he’s still focused on Lucifer's dick and, yeah, that's doing it for him, too. “Might try to rub myself against your body. Or whatever the nearest hard surface is, really.”

“You don't want to fuck me?”

Lucifer nearly chokes on his tongue. “Want?” He squeaks. “Yes. Very yes want. Need in order to allow you to do this? No, not required at all.”

By Hell’s finest handbasket, Alastor is clearly considering it and Lucifer's chest tightens until he can't breathe. This isn't something he ever dared let himself think possible. The sinner finally looks up and after a blink asks, “You're a masochist?”

The Devil laughs, wobbly with nerves. “To an extreme fault.”

“To the point that carving flesh from your body with my teeth would be pleas-” He stops because a high-pitched whine started sliding past Lucifer's lips the moment he said ‘flesh.’ “You really do.”

“Want that? Yeah, pretty badly, apparently. Didn't know it until you said it, but I’m not surprised. I guess a few thousand years of being severed from the energy I was literally made to connect to knocked a few screws loose.”

Alastor lets out a very long breath before he asks, so quietly, “And if I want to… explore your body as well?”

Lucifer moans, loud and wanton and Alastor moves to lean over him a little. He looks down on Lucifer like he's captivated by him, intrigued by his reactions and fascinated by his answers. He looks like he wants to study Lucifer, like an entomologist with a new bug. “As long as the two conditions I stated remain in play, you're welcome to do anything you want to me.” He squeezes Alastor's fingers that are threaded through his own. “May I kiss you?”

“Ye-” is all that Alastor gets out before Lucifer slides their mouths together. Fuck, he’s just as eager in this as Lucifer is.

Some gentle pushing with hands and bodies and Lucifer is on his back on his bed, Alastor on all fours over him. He very deliberately holds the Radio Demon's gaze as he puts both his hands above his head, crossed at the wrists. There's a smirk curling his lips when he whispers, “I’m yours. For however long you want me.”

And if Lucifer means that in a lot more ways than just today, well, that's between him and all his rubber ducks.

Alastor drops down to his elbows and runs his nose along the soft, vulnerable underside of one of Lucifer's exposed forearms. “Or until you say to stop.”

Oh, his confirmation of the consent is the sexiest thing so far and Lucifer has to close his eyes and bite the inside of his lip to keep from coming right there. He still shivers.

“What was that?” The sinner demon continues to nose at exposed skin with a touch so delicate it might drive Lucifer insane.

“That you agree. To stop when I ask.” Lucifer whimpers when Alastor presses his lips behind an ear. “It's sexy.”

There are teeth barely scraping the skin of his neck and Lucifer is one hundred percent certain he's not going to make it to the eating part before he comes at least once. “Hmmm. Never been called that before.”

The Devil has to snort in disbelief at that. “Never to your face, then.” Alastor's tongue is seductively hot on the curve beneath Lucifer's jaw. “I remember what you looked like. When you were alive. You were gorgeous.”

The Radio Demon freezes, mouth on Lucifer's throat. “And now?”

Another laugh. More of a giggle, really. “You really didn't notice how desperately I was trying to stop myself from climbing you like a tree when Charlie thought she was introducing us?”

“You insulted me or my work no less than twelve ti-” He interrupts himself and pushes up on his hands to look down at Lucifer with the most unimpressed glare that may have ever been leveled at anyone. “You are worse than a schoolboy pulling pigtails.” Lucifer feels his face flush with embarrassment. He's about to respond when Alastor takes him out at the knees: “I suppose I’ll just have to punish you for it.”

Lucifer tries to respond. He does! But all that comes out is a garbled string of consonants.

Alastor purrs more than chuckles and returns to Lucifer's neck.

“You. Fuck. This. Doesn't feel like punish-ah!” Teeth nip at a collar bone.

“Shh. I’m learning where and how I can hurt you most.”

“Feels more shit arousing than anything oh fuck else.” Lucifer writhes under the attention, his shirt being carefully unbuttoned at a pace that makes glaciers look like bullet trains.

“Which is why I no longer use this method with my usual victims. I loathe having to work around someone's bloated libido.” It is only then that Lucifer realizes there is no static crackling through the Radio Demon’s voice. He's… just Alastor.

A different kind of heat blooms in Lucifer's chest. Oh, he’s totally fucked now. If this goes half as well as he thinks it will then he better ask to be gagged or else he is going to do something truly unhinged, like propose marriage or something. He's done far stupider things for much smaller payoffs.

Lucifer kicks himself back into the conversation at hand, a protective shield of sarcasm rising up. “Aww, are you saying I’m special?”

“Certainly not.”

“I think you are.” He pulls the last word long and melodic.

“No.”

“Oh, now I definitely know you think I’m special.”

Ope, Alastor is looming over him again, this time with a stern look on his face. “Listen closely because I will only say this once.” Shit. That's his angry voice. Lucifer closes his mouth so fast his teeth click. “What I am saying is that you are one of only three creatures I have ever wanted to even kiss in my entire existence and if you keep pushing my buttons about it I will nail you to the wall and walk away. Forever.”

Dammit, Lucifer is fantastically good at fucking things up. He lifts his hand towards Alastor’s face but freezes when he shies away. Alright, apology first. “I'm sorry, Alastor. You're right. I am like a child. Because, despite what my teasing may imply, I want to be special to you.” He knows the sentiment is accepted when the sinner leans his face in and initiates the touch. Then Lucifer threads his fingers back into red and black hair. “I want to be special to you, like you always have been to me.”

This time when Alastor shakes his head and rolls his eyes it practically oozes affection. He is letting Lucifer see those emotions and that says more than words ever could. “Why I am willing to put up with you I’ll never understand.”

Watching Alastor lean down and tease at a kiss makes Lucifer far happier than it should. Fuck, a playful Alastor is absolutely deadly. Lucifer laughs and tugs him down until their lips actually meet. “I don't understand it either. But I’ll take what I can get.”

Alastor groans, lewd in a way that surprises the hell out of Lucifer, and tears open the rest of Lucifer’s shirt. He pushes it off his shoulders with both hands, caressing down Lucifer's arms until the sleeves come fully off. Then, with a fast, jerking motion Alastor grabs at the King’s thighs, maneuvering them to either side of his hips. “Yes, you will,” the demon growls, his smile getting wider, more of that confident young man Lucifer remembers so well. “I want to find out exactly how much you can take, your Majesty.”

Lucifer might as well burst into flames. His nerves are set on fire and he could jackhammer concrete with his dick and Alastor is between his legs and after all this time and everything he has been through, this right here might be what kills him. “Fuck, Alastor. Mercy. Please don't say shit like that if you don't plan on fucking me.”

“Who says I don't?”

He sobs. Lucifer is secure enough in his masculinity to admit that just the implication that the demon might fuck him drives him to tears. “I… I thought you… didn't…”

“I don't. Generally. But knowing that I might turn the King of Hell, Lucifer Morningstar himself, into a feral animal simply by having sex with him? Knowing that I could do things to him he so desperately wants? That I could make him beg? Now that is a power that very much appeals to me.” Alastor strokes Lucifer's thighs as he speaks. “I’d love to see you driven to madness by nothing more than my mouth and my hands and my cock.”

“Most of the way there, already. Just keep talking like that.”

Smirking, the demon curls himself over and drags his lips along Lucifer's chest. “Where is the Serpent now? All I see is a soft, needy little prey animal, practically praying to be put out of his misery.”

Fuck, Alastor's mouth is hotter than fire. He arches up into it only to have his hips held down by two very strong hands. Yeah, that's hot.

Time to test it. Because the Devil can never resist being at least a bit of a brat.

Lucifer tries to buck his hips and Alastor snarls, holding him in place. He snaps his hips up with more force, enough to lift Alastor with him, just a little. The demon’s claws pierce through fabric as he shoves him back down. No vocalization this time, but his eyes and ears are swiveled up to watch Lucifer even as his mouth remains so close to pale skin.

“Are you going to keep playing games?”

“Depends.” Lucifer gasps at a nip of teeth. “How long is it going to take for you to actually finish healing yourself so I don't have to worry and can really enjoy this?”

Alastor rests his chin on Lucifer's sternum and blinks at him. “Do you actually care enough about that? For it to distract you?”

He trails his fingers down the side of Alastor's face to his neck and then further back, to his exposed collar bone. “Right now, with just gentle things? No, I’m not overcome with worry. I at least have you within touch range. But it's still simmering on a back burner, just waiting to go back to boiling.”

The hum that comes out of Alastor vibrates Lucifer's chest. “Well that is a pity. I rather wanted to draw it out. But it is not conducive to my plans to have you focused on anything but this very moment. Se lavi.” He sits back onto his heels and taps Lucifer's knee with a finger. “Off with the rest of this. I’m guessing with those wings of yours, these leg muscles get less of a workout than they might otherwise.”

The pants and boots are gone with a wave of Lucifer's hand and then he is naked and on display for a mostly covered Radio Demon. “Care to join me?” He gestures at Alastor's clothing.

“Hm, no.”

Lucifer splutters and it makes Alastor laugh. Like, really laugh, something more similar to that first night than Lucifer's heard since.

“You are so easy to rile up. I’ll make a compromise.” He summons a blade from nowhere and deftly uses it to cut through the bedsheet bandages that keep his torso covered, revealing his chest. Holding the knife between his teeth, Alastor then shucks off the bandages along with his shirt and his undone bowtie that was draped over his shoulders.

The stitches glow green and the remaining line of the open wound still looks quite dramatic. That this is smaller makes Lucifer wish he was the one to kill Adam, preferably with his bare hands. He knows he is frowning at it and clenching his fists, but he can't help himself: Lucifer has never been good with tolerating anyone harming what is his.

Alastor rolls his eyes and huffs, taking the knife from his mouth. “I appreciate your instinct to defend my honor, but it is misplaced. Do not expend energy on someone who does not deserve it.”

Lucifer narrows his eyes. “You deserve it.”

“I meant Adam, you dolt.” He lifts one of Lucifer's legs up to rest the ankle on his shoulder. “Either you focus or I strap you down. I won’t have you ruin a good cut of meat by flopping all about like a fish on a dock.”

Oh, now there's an idea. “Or you could strap me down for fun.” Another eye roll; if Alastor’s not careful he's going to pull a facial muscle. “Then I can concentrate on feeling every move you make and not keeping myself still.”

“And then you’ll finish before I want you to.”

“Stop thinking like a human.” He points at himself. “Angel. I have the opposite problem: I can come pretty much as often as I’m stimulated to, with some limits of overstimulation.”

He can see the calculations running in Alastor's head—he’s doing a complex cost-benefit analysis, which no doubt includes the cost of allowing Lucifer to drive the proceedings a given number of times. Too bad the Devil really likes throwing a wrench into things. Or wrenches.

“If you're mathing out the best plan, you probably should have a full set of information. So, let's go through all the useful details.” He holds up fingers to count them off. “One you already got: negligible refractory period, no orgasm limits. At least that I’ve found. Feel free to test that.” He wiggles his eyebrows at Alastor and the demon just stares at him, unfazed. Damn.

“Two, which follows from one: sex, of all types, is a yes. Enthusiastically yes. That is decidedly not an angel thing, that's a me thing. But I’m too fucked up in the head to do it with anyone that isn't someone I care about so… yeah.”

He just admitted that he cares about Alastor. That… that should be obvious from everything that they've been through so far, but. Yeah. So that’s out there. Alastor still doesn't look very affected.

“Three: angels are technically genderless, so all this,” he motions to the space encompassing from his chest to his cock, “can be whatever combination of sizes or shapes of bits you or I want. I have no strong preference, this just became default because of the parts Lilith had and preferred.”

Hah! There it is. Alastor's startled deer-in-headlights (pun intended) face is way too much fun to elicit.

“Four, last but not least: there is very little, if anything, you can do to actually injure me without angelic steel. You will cause me pain, but as we’ve established, I like that part. You cannot do damage that is not relatively easily healed without angelic steel. And even with such, short of lopping off limbs or my head, it will only make it take longer to heal.” It occurs to him that some light knife play with angelic steel would be a wild time and he promptly boxes that idea and puts it aside for later. “So you have my leave to take me apart in almost any way you wish.”

Alastor swallows back a moan that flips about nine of Lucifer's switches all at once. Hoo boy, he’s got it bad.

Those crimson eyes glow as they look down at him. “Thank you for the information. I have one point to argue: we have only spoken about your masochism, not established it by action. And before I indulge my baser instincts I would like to know for sure you have been truthful, Prince of Lies.”

And with that, Alastor rakes his nails down the inside of Lucifer's lifted thigh from groin to knee, drawing blood the entire way.

“Oh fuck!” Lucifer bucks wildly, his claws tearing through the bedsheets and into the mattress. His hard prick leaks clear fluid all over his stomach. “Yeah, just like that.”

Tilting his head the other direction, focusing completely on Lucifer's face, Alastor chooses the middle of one of the lines to dig a finger in deeper, turning maybe an inch of what was a surface cut into a trench.

Lucifer moans loudly, eyes closed and head tipped back, as if exposing his throat could somehow placate the beast that has captured him. Fuck, it hurts in the best possible way, pain accentuating each pulse of arousal, underlining it and making it brighter.

He can't see Alastor anymore but he feels that finger stab deeper, his blunt fingertip tearing muscle behind the sharp slice of the nail. The pain throbs around his femur, traveling up to pool in his groin and behind his balls and then Alastor wiggles his fingertip back and forth.

The orgasm is a surprise, crashing into him sideways as that fingertip hits something that connects directly to the nerves and muscles near his cock. The pleasure bursts out from that core, waves traveling to the edges of him. It is an almost perfect mix of pleasure and pain and fuck that was just the first time. Alastor was barely trying.

Body shivering with aftershocks, Lucifer is able to look up at Alastor and meets the satisfied smirk of a predator. He starts to slide forward, moving his shoulder under Lucifer's calf, then knee, then thigh, until the wound, finger still embedded in it, is right in front of his mouth. Golden blood from the other cuts smears across half his face and some of his hair and it is stunningly, agonizingly beautiful.

Alastor removes his finger and replaces it with his tongue and good fucking god it's better than being rimmed. The hot, wet thing writhes inside the wound, trying to burrow deeper, and then lips seal around the skin and the demon sucks.

“Yes, Alastor! Yes!” He wails, his free leg wrapping around the Radio Demon's waist as he presses his thigh harder against Alastor's mouth. “So fucking good. Please, take more.”

A pleased hum and his lips pull away from Lucifer's skin with a wet pop. “Patience. I’m enjoying watching how you mix your pain with your pleasure. I’ve never seen anyone respond to pain quite like this.” He laves once at the oozing wound, tongue quickly dipping in and out. “It's an intoxicating feeling, knowing that I can manipulate you so. Enough to get drunk off of.”

Lucifer sighs at the thought of Alastor being affected by him and how he responds. He wants Alastor to desire him, to want to come back for more, over and over, no matter the reason. “I’m not sad about that. I hope that I affect you even a fraction as much as you do me, even if it isn't sexual.”

With a snarl Alastor charges forward, still holding Lucifer's leg and pressing the thigh into his chest, forcing his knee almost to his ear. They end up nose-to-nose, the Radio Demon’s eyes and mouth flickering with the glow of his intense emotions. Shadows curl out around him, like thick smoke, and pure demonic power thrums in the air around them. Lucifer didn't realize he could be more aroused, but here we are.

Something seems to overflow out of the sinner. “You have no idea,” Alastor growls. “I wanted to forget I knew you. I tried. For decades. And when I finally succumbed to my desire for you and tried to find you, Lilith intercepted me.” Ice crystalizes down Lucifer's spine, yet Alastor isn't done. “Whatever she saw in me was not to her taste and she had Rosie call me to heel. For seven years I was punished for trying to contact you. Only when Rosie found a way to use me to bolster her standing with your wife did she release me to the hotel, to monitor Charlie’s plans.”

Okay. There is a whole lot to unpack there. Most of it will have to wait for later, but one thing needs to be clarified now. “Ex-wife.”

“What?”

“Lilith was very clear when she left. She will not abdicate her position, but she no longer wishes to associate with me. In any way.” He can see the small movements of Alastor's eyes as they dart all over his face, looking for signs of a lie. He won't find any. “Until she renounces her title or is replaced, this ring is stuck on my finger—I am bound to her as she is to me. But that is a sharing of our magic energies and of a formal title, not anything else.”

Alastor is breathing hard and fast, like he just ran a marathon. There's a strange, quiet creaking noise coming from somewhere. It is only when the demon opens his mouth to pant that Lucifer realizes that the noise was Alastor grinding his teeth.

“Alastor?” His eyebrows furrow in concern. When he doesn't get an answer Lucifer opens his mouth to speak again, only to have it suddenly filled with Alastor's tongue.

“Then you are mine,” rumbles out through the stereo speakers in the bookshelves and the old radio tucked away in the corner and even out of Lucifer's phone in his coat pocket on the floor. His facility with radio waves apparently allows Alastor to speak while using his mouth for other things and why is that so hot? “Mine.”

That comes out of the various speakers so loud Alastor jolts backwards, ears going flat to his head and eyes narrowing as he looks around.

“Fuck.” It is the first word he has said that is interlaced with static in a while.

Lucifer is, admittedly, still a little dazed from the kiss. “Hmmm?”

Alastor sits up tall on his knees and listens, ears alert. Lucifer's mangled leg, no longer bleeding, has dropped to the side. The Radio Demon's antlered shadow comes up beside them and grins. “Go check how far that went. Even outside the palace. Inventory everyone who heard it.” Then the shadow rushes away.

Lucifer is staring at Alastor with raised eyebrows when the demon looks back down.

“That last one.” He looks away. There is a ruddy blush on his cheeks and he winces as he speaks. “I may have broadcast that further than just the receptive devices in this room… or building.”

A giggle bubbles out of the Devil, but at Alastor's glare he slaps his hand over his mouth. He only dares speak once the giddy urge has passed. Which takes a solid half-minute. “It's alright. No one will know who you were talking about.”

“That is not the issue.” He sinks down to sit on his heels, shoulders rounding in a way that makes concern bubble in Lucifer’s stomach. Alastor looks down at his hands and fidgets. “Something like that only happens… it would only happen if I wanted others to hear those words.”

Oh.

That's…

Lucifer snickers and Alastor's head snaps up, a look of pure rage on his face. “No. No, don't be mad-”

“Oh I am quite more than mad. How dare y-”

There's a soft pffuff as Lucifer manifests what might be the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to him. “I'm laughing because we've both been idiots. You think a bunch of people in and around the palace hearing you shout that one word is bad? Even if they knew it was in reference to me? The last time I jerked off I ended up looking like this.”

He flicks the big blonde ears that just appeared on his head and twists his hips around to show a fluffy gold and white tail. Yeap, the last time Lucifer got off thinking about Alastor he unconsciously turned himself into a fucking doe.

“So if you're worried about issues with possessiveness or how we think about each other, I’m pretty sure that ship sailed a loooong time ago.”

Alastor blinks once. Twice. And then cracks like a walnut.

His antlers stretch themselves out wide as he laughs and lifts Lucifer up until the Devil is straddling the demon’s lap. One hand ends up grabbing at that silly doe tail, the other cups an ear, thinner and more delicate than Alastor's, but also black-tipped. Lucifer knows he is blushing bright gold, but he can't stop smiling and Alastor keeps on chuckling, expression of pure delight on his face.

“Look at you,” he coos, all his static gone again. His hand flattens above Lucifer's tail, pressing his hips down to grind against Alastor's- fuck. Alastor is hard. “Such a delicate little flower.” This time he rolls his hips up as he forces Lucifer down and the Devil moans, head falling forward onto Alastor's shoulder. “What were you thinking of when you turned into this? Did it occur to you what happens to bucks each fall?”

“Yes,” he hisses, like the admission hurts.

“Do you want me to chase you down? Run you until you can't run anymore? Until your legs feel like they're on fire and you can't even hold yourself up?”

Lucifer whimpers, face buried in the side of Alastor's neck, breaths coming faster.

“Do you want me to descend upon you when you are helpless?” Alastor purrs, kissing and nipping up Lucifer's shoulder, up his neck, up to whisper into his large, sensitive ear. “Do you want me to take you fast and hard, overcome with my need for you? Does my pretty doe need to be bred?”

Oh fuck. That sounds really fucking good, so good it feels like the desire is eating him from the inside out. All Lucifer can do is nod furiously and shake.

The demon makes a soft, pleased noise. “Of course she does.”

Lucifer might as well have been struck by fucking lightning for how his whole body turns on all at once. He cries out, imagining riding Alastor just like this, fucking himself until he's delirious and so full of cum it gushes down his thighs.

“Please?” He whines, so lost in the fantasy he doesn't realize what else about him has changed until Alastor's hand glides around his hip and dives between his thighs. It makes an obscenely loud, wet squelch. Oh. This has all had an effect.

Alastor chuckles again, velvet soft. “I thought so.” His clawed fingers move tentatively along the folds of skin. “You want that so much. Here, pauvre bête, have some.”

Two fingers drive up into Lucifer's cunt and everything in his mind that isn't sex gets whited out. He starts bouncing himself on those fingers immediately, the images of riding Alastor rushing back, with Lucifer desperate for sensations he hasn't felt in eons.

“Mo belle.” Alastor adds a third finger and Lucifer moans in relief. “I prefer hunting doe, you know.” He licks a long stripe up Lucifer's throat, tugging on one ear to arc his head back. “I think they taste better.”

Fuck, Lucifer needs more. So badly. Something deeper. “Please,” he pants, clinging to Alastor's shoulders, fingernails digging furrows into his skin.

“Shhh, mo cheri.”

The way he says the endearment, in his mother tongue, without mockery nor any restraint on how possessive, makes Lucifer lift his head to breathe into his ear. “Can't. Want you too much. Need you in me. More.” Alastor growls. “Tear me apart.” It's easy to steal a little bit of French Creole from Alastor's mind. “Si to ple, mo chevrey.”

“Fuck.” The demon curses, removing his fingers and throwing Lucifer back down onto the bed.

Alastor makes a quick motion with his hand and the rest of his clothing is gone. Then he is twisting and shoving Lucifer around, until the Devil is laid out on his chest with his hips twisted sideways. The demon is straddling one white-to-black ombre thigh, pulling the other up onto his lap, bending Lucifer's knee so his calf rests on Alastor's hip. Out of the corner of his eye Lucifer sees a flash of silver—the knife is back in Alastor’s hand.

The Radio Demon massages up the outer side of Lucifer's thigh, from knee to ass to hip. “Relax, mo belle doe,” he coos as he repeats the motion, focusing on the upper portions, pressing around with his fingers and Lucifer realizes he is tracing the lines of muscles. Just behind the flare of Lucifer's pelvis he slows to chart a more detailed path. “It’s going to take some trial and error to determine which cuts are the most tender on you—do your wings make your chest and back muscles more like a bird? Or do you use your leg muscles like a human?”

The tip of the blade drags over the curve of Lucifer's ass, making him groan. “I’m always up for some experimentation.”

Alastor gives Lucifer's tail a quick, sharp tug and he lets out a shocked bleat. “Don't be such a whore about it.”

Lucifer doesn't take that as the insult it might be meant as. Instead, he arches his back and looks over his shoulder at Alastor, watching him decide where to cut first with intensity. “But what if I'm your whore about it.”

A screech of microphone feedback tears through the air as Alastor freezes. Crimson eyes go wide and slowly glide up Lucifer's body to his face. “That is…” His exhale is shaky. “An acceptable compromise.” He looks a little wrecked, which sends a ridiculous rush of victory through Lucifer. “Ready?”

“May I touch myself while you do it?” Lucifer watches with no little interest as that makes Alastor's eyelids droop and a little noise catch in his throat. “Do you like the idea or that I asked?”

“Both.” He licks his lips. “But it's more that you asked. And yes, you may.”

“Then I’ll keep asking, if that's okay with you?”

Alastor's voice is heavy. “Yes.”

Lucifer slides his hands between his legs. It's a shame that Alastor won't see him playing with himself from this angle, but he supposes there has to be something for next time. “Mmm, now I'm really ready.”

“Not quite, I think.” Alastor hooks his arm under Lucifer's thigh and lifts so he can get in closer, until he can press the head of his cock into Lucifer's cunt.

He doesn't even go in far, barely the tip, and Lucifer is already gasping, choking on air, needier than he has been in ages. “Yes! Fuck yes!” His hips jerk, trying to get more and Alastor grips his waist like he intends to puncture his claws straight through.

“Restraints it is.”

Smooth shadow tentacles snake up Lucifer's body, wrapping around both legs, his waist, his chest, and his neck. They all tighten at the same time, holding everything but his arms deathly still. It's pressure everywhere, calming like a hug or a weighted blanket.

Lucifer starts stroking his clit lazily, building some pleasure up before- YES!

The knife sinks in behind the flare of his pelvis and it hurts in a way Lucifer hasn't experienced before: sharp, direct, and gloriously deep. The novelty ratchets up his pleasure and he starts moving his fingers faster as he cries out, “Alastor! ‘S so good. Hnngfuck.”

“We’ve barely started, cheri.” He curves the knife down and as he does Alastor rolls his hips forward and sinks his cock into Lucifer to the hilt.

It only takes Lucifer two quick twitches of his fingers after that and he's coming violently hard, screaming through it until the tentacle around his neck curls up and past his lips. But having something heavy on his tongue is only fuel thrown onto the bonfire: he sucks more of the tentacle into his mouth and comes again, moaning around it.

The knife is pulled out and then dives in again, finishing the thin triangle-like shape. He’s close to coming again when the pain drops from its peak as the blade is removed, stealing away the orgasm. Only to have it return a moment later, rocketing off the charts when two of Alastor's fingers dig deep into the short side of the cut to scrape the meat from the bone. Lucifer sobs around the tentacle in his mouth and it backs away.

Alastor probably thinks Lucifer is going to call him off. Well, fuck that. “Please turn me over,” he groans, “want to watch you.”

“So polite.” Oh, Alastor's voice betrays how affected he is—all threadbare and raw.

Of course, to turn Lucifer means moving him up and down Alastor's cock. The shadow tentacles seem to take every opportunity to do so, making him gasp with each movement until he is on his back with both legs wrapped tight around Alastor's waist, the demon still on his knees since his hands are occupied. Then the shadows retract, leaving them alone again on the bed.

Lucifer watches with wide eyes as Alastor slices a portion off the vaguely pyramidal piece of flesh and sucks it into his mouth. The moaning sounds he makes as he chews are just as sexual as the noises Lucifer was making. To make matters worse, Lucifer can feel the vibrations of each moan against the inside of his thighs and oh fuck that's good.

Alastor pares off another bite and groans even louder. “I’ll never have enough of this taste. I could eat it every minute of every day for the next thousand years and still want more.”

“You can have it. It's yours.” Lucifer gets out between panting breaths, fingers stroking himself faster and faster as he watches pieces of his body get eaten by an incredibly powerful sinner demon and he has no idea why, but fuck that so insanely sexy. Alastor's eyes close with the next bit and he looks almost painfully consumed by the pleasure of it. And through it all he is letting out this low, sensual rumble that travels into Lucifer's bones, burrowing deeper and deeper until it pierces his center.

This orgasm leaks out of him, long and slow and he prolongs it further by using his legs to move himself up and down Alastor's cock.

Then shit suddenly there's a slick hand flat on his chest and Alastor is fucking into him and the demon’s other hand smacks down onto the undamaged thigh. “Don't stop.” SMACK. “I can feel.” SMACK. “Your needy little cunt.” WHAP. “Coming around me.” SLAP. “And don't you dare.” SMACK. “Let it stop.” SMACK.

“Fuck Alastor!” Lucifer gasps, barely able to breathe as he comes again, an overwhelming euphoria flooding his whole body.

This. This is what he was actually made for. To be a conduit for this depraved sexual lunacy. There's no Heaven and no Hell—only the pain Alastor rams into Lucifer's body and the reciprocal pleasure he rips out of it. It's all he ever wants to exist. Just this. Just here.

It doesn't even occur to Lucifer to try to stop Alastor when he pulls all the way out and rolls Lucifer over, positioning his ass up in the air and then driving back into his sloppy pussy.

“Again!” Alastor commands, voice a feral snarl. He hits Lucifer’s ass this time and from this angle his cock gets deliciously deeper. Lucifer screams in agreement, pushing back into him, trying to get more sensation, but he's overstimulated and he'll either need a pause or a dramatic change to come again quite so soon.

Change. Oh. That gives him an idea.

“Al!” He gasps. “Need. More. My ass. Just. Fuck me. No prep. Just-AAAHHHYEEESS!”

Between one thrust and the next the demon switches holes, fucking into Lucifer's ass without preamble. It's a lance of icy fire tearing up the length of his whole spine, but it is also a punch directly to every erogenous zone inside of him and Lucifer comes so hard his wings pop out and his horns appear and his Devil tail whips out to replace the fluffy cervine one. He roars through it all, fire on his breath charring the bed linens in front of his face.

Before he can reorient himself both of his horns are being grabbed and his head is wrenched backwards as Alastor fucks into him a few more times before bellowing out his own climax into Lucifer's body.

They collapse in a bloody, sweaty, cum-soaked heap, Alastor on top of half of Lucifer's wings.

Honestly, Lucifer has no idea how long they lay there, unmoving except for their ragged breathing, slowly letting reality filter back in.

As soon as enough of the outside world reenters Lucifer's awareness he has a realization. “You’ve ruined me for any other lover, haven't you? Who the fuck else would I do this with? Who would be willing to do this to me?”

A rattling growl thrums through Lucifer's back. “No one.” Alastor sounds resolute in a way that shouldn't feel half so erotic. “Because you are mine and I would fucking kill them if they tried.”

That also probably shouldn't give Lucifer the warm fuzzies. Damn, he really is fucked up. And in this post-coital haze he apparently has no filter. “Fuck, I really like the idea of you being so possessive of me.”

“Not an idea. It's a fact.” Lucifer pulls his wings back into himself and shifts so his back is pressed to Alastor's chest. The sinner demon’s arm wraps around his waist and he buries his nose in Lucifer’s hair. “I’ve wanted you for myself ever since you started playing the violin with me. I was attracted to how powerful you were before that, but the possessiveness came in when we performed that duet. I wanted that feeling forever.”

“And now you have it.” Lucifer brings Alastor's hand up so he can kiss his fingers. “How's your chest?”

“Fully healed with the last bit of you I ate.”

“Ah, so as soon as you were at full strength you jumped the track: started hitting me and demanding my orgasms. I see you.”

“I thought I went off the rails before that, when I was talking about breeding you.” Alastor's hand drops down and presses flat to Lucifer's belly.

“Actually, fuck.” Lucifer turns his magic inward for a moment and changes back to physically having a penis and associated organs. “Phew. Dodged a bullet there.” He places his hand over Alastor's on his stomach. “Just so you know, I didn't, but I can theoretically get pregnant that way. I’d have to stay in that form for longer after sex, like a day or so, but I usually linger in a single conformation for a while, so I'm glad I thought of switching back so soon.”

“Noted.” Alastor doesn't sound nearly as uncomfortable with that revelation as Lucifer thought he would be. Actually he sounds… distracted? Distant?

“You okay?” Lucifer twists so he can look at Alastor's face, but he doesn't dislodge their hands.

Alastor meets his eyes for a moment and then looks away. “There may be another unforeseen problem. I… I know enough about magic that I should have told you, because it could be important, but maybe not. And it…” He actually curls in to hide his face in the curve of Lucifer's neck. “What actually matters to demons in terms of virginity and magic?”

Lucifer turns all the way around, so they are fully facing each other. “Just like humans' cultural relationship with it, it's complicated. But if you answer some questions honestly, I can get a better picture.” Alastor nods but burrows further into Lucifer. He wraps his arms around the demon and strokes his back. “Before I ask anything, it doesn't matter that you didn't tell me, got it? It doesn't change anything about how I feel about you.” Alastor shivers and relaxes a little. This is clearly very impactful for him, which sets off alarm bells in Lucifer's head. “I’m going to be very explicit. Before today had you ever penetrated someone else with your cock?”

A long breath out. “No.”

“And I am safe to assume you did what you did with me willingly?”

Alastor goes deathly still and for a moment everything in Lucifer's world freezes with him. “That matters?”

Nausea makes the entire bed tilt beneath him. “Yeah, it does.”

The demon in his arms relaxes as he presses against Lucifer for more contact. “I was raped. When I was alive. As… a child.”

Lucifer sees blood red. “Tell me that they're double dead.”

He can feel Alastor's grin against his skin. “My father and his brother were the first people I ever killed on Earth. And in Hell. Never ate them though. First time it didn't occur to me and second I didn't want their power added to mine.”

It was Alastor's family. Lucifer hasn't ever wanted blood on his hands as much as he does right now. Even Charlie couldn't pull him off those assholes if they were still around. Fuck the rules preventing him from harming sinners, he’d figure out a way. Through sheer force of will if necessary. Or he’d have someone else do it. “I’m almost disappointed. I really wish I could have watched them suffer.”

Lips press to his throat. “Thank you.”

Lucifer can't grasp the words for how that makes him feel so he moves forward with their conversation. “So, to confirm for my line of questioning, the first time your body was penetrated in a way related to a sexual act was against your will?”

“Yes.”

“What about your mouth?”

A different kind of noise catches in Alastor's throat and Lucifer notes it for later. “No. Never.”

He breathes out. “Alright. So, from how I understand it—and if you want we can ask Asmodeus for sure—the largest gain of power is first penetration of a virgin’s vagina or anus, by a virgin, given willingly. The willingly part is why succubi and incubi exist, because they coerce consent for more power. Anyway, other end of the magical virginity spectrum is penetration by a virgin of a non-virgin. So, you just gained some power from me. Congrats, I’m a fallen seraphim, I have so much in my magic tank I didn't even notice.”

Alastor snorts and that makes Lucifer smile in relief. He's okay. “Also might have been drowned out by the pound of your flesh and quart of your blood I consumed.”

“Hmm, probably. Interesting, I’ll have to ask Ozzie-” Lucifer puts the thought aside. “Nevermind. Other than that power transfer, we share a small magical connection now. It's less magic than what's in a non-soul deal with a demon. Super small. Although enough that I can see that someone has a collar on you and we will talk about that later.” Alastor just hums. “This does mean, however, that we should be prepared for something a lot more dramatic if/when I penetrate you, since that will only happen willingly. There's a few other factors I don't know as much about, like how you being a virgin demon changes things. Also, if I am the first willing creature penetrating you and I draw blood, that has a whole multiplicative effect…”

“I’m guessing this is the result of humans being so stupid about sex and virginity?”

“Yeap.” He lets the ‘p’ on the end of that word pop. “And how they intertwined it with their religions.”

“How much of an increased connection are we talking about,” Alastor moves, nuzzling in to turn Lucifer's head so he can say the last words directly into his ear, “when you fuck me?”

Lucifer swallows a groan hearing Alastor say it like that. “Be careful talking like that—it doesn't take much for you to get me hard.”

The demon clicks his tongue against his teeth, a chiding sound, even as he slides a hand down to palm Lucifer's ass. “Are you sure you are not the Sin of Lust?” He tugs Lucifer into a kiss, wet and open. “With how horny you are and how you work me up, someone who rarely feels any sexual desire, I really do wonder.”

The Devil can't help but laugh. “I’m very proud of my sexual prowess?”

“Oh, I have no doubt that is true.” Alastor smirks as he nips at Lucifer's bottom lip. “So, answer my question, what's the magical impact of you fucking me with your pretty cock?”

Lucifer groans, loudly this time. “A lot. Likely at the level of or higher than a soul deal, with all the power benefits therein. Possibly permanent, or only breakable by such means that it is essentially permanent. Ah fuck.” Alastor's fingers start gently tracing Lucifer's half hard cock.

“Just from me to you? Do I lose power?”

“Shortest answer: yes, but no.” He gasps as Alastor's fingers press in a little more firmly. “Longer answer: since we're both demons, it will change the nature of the pool of magic we’d share. I’d be able to draw more at once, you’d have more to draw from. Shit. Alastor.” He’s mostly hard again.

Said demon chuckles. “I really enjoy how easily I can manipulate you. How quickly I can have the King of Hell in the palm of my hand.” He flattens said hand and presses the palm to the underside of Lucifer's cock, trapping it against his belly. “Do you want me to stop?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Mmm, how about the more answers you give me the better this gets for you?” Alastor wraps his hand around Lucifer and strokes once. It has been so fucking long since another person's hand has been on his cock he feels like he is going insane with how slowly this is progressing.

“Sure. I’d answer you anyway, you know.” He whines and shudders as Alastor pumps again.

“I know. But isn't this more fun?” He nudges Lucifer onto his back so he can lean over him.

Lucifer has to admit it definitely is more fun. But he isn't going to actually say that out loud. So instead he just moans, which is answer enough.

“More about sex and magical power: humans also have weird feelings about love and marriage, do those factor in?”

“Yes,” he answers and Alastor grips him tighter. “Oh yes. They modify it, add to or multiply.” The stroking speeds up, fuck yes.

“Theoretically, what's the most powerful combination of factors that you could come up with?”

Lucifer rolls his hips up to meet Alastor’s hand. “Both virgins, both demons.” Alastor tightens his grip and Lucifer keens. “Both already powerful.” The sinner demon twists his wrist at the top so his palm slides over the head and on his way back down he catches his thumbnail on the slit. “Holyshitfuckyes. Uh, full consent. Vaginal or anal penetration.” He speeds up. “Draws blood, from both participants.” Another twist, sharper catch of the claw at the top, fuck the quick flash of pain is perfect. “Bonded by a ritual they both believe in. Strong emotional attachment." Oh, even faster. Oh yes. “And I’m sure you could figure out some planetary alignment or star chart or whatever specific to them to enhance it further AljustalittleharderY-”

Alastor kisses him as he comes, stroking him through it along both his dick and tongue. He keeps going until the need for air forces him to stop, but he stays close to Lucifer, sharing breath, watching how the Devil floats down from the high.

It isn't until they’ve synchronized their breathing that Alastor speaks.

“I’m going to regret saying this, I’m sure,” the sinner demon starts, voice quiet and clear of any radio interference. “But, if what you say is true, if that list is accurate, then someday—not today, but in the future, at some point.” This is the closest he has ever heard Alastor come to babbling and it sparks electric anticipation in Lucifer, blowing away the hazy remnants of his orgasm. “If Heaven comes for revenge for Adam or some other disaster comes knocking on Hell’s door. If you need to be stronger, or need a stronger ally.” Alastor's gaze is intense enough to stop Lucifer’s heart in his chest. “We might be able to check most of those boxes.”

Lucifer runs back through what he said: virgins, at least one, check. Demons, check plus, one’s the original demon. Powerful, check plus plus. Consent, check plus plus plus. Blood, can make happen, happily for at least one side. Then-

He pushes upright, eyes widening and he just stares down at Alastor because seriously, what the fuck.

Holy

shit.

He's quite sure he should say something, but fuck if he knows what.

Alastor's fingers thread through Lucifer's as he also sits up. “If I have to deal with these extremely illogical and patently unfathomable feelings for you that have started brewing, I am at the very least going to be strategic about leveraging them for my own benefit.” Of course that's how he’d spin it. He wouldn't be Alastor otherwise.

Lucifer dips in for a kiss but can't really manage it through his giggles. “Sorry, I just. Fuck. Really?”

“See? I regret it already,” Alastor deadpans, but his eyes have that glimmer of mischief Lucifer remembers from long ago.

“Hey, be nice. Let me be pleasantly surprised. I thought I was going to be the one who scared you away by saying something insane and unhinged. I’m not exactly known for my moderation.”

His head drops to one side, ears flopping with it. “Was what I said really that insane and-or unhinged?”

Lucifer nods. “By some metrics. But I love insane and unhinged.”

“People call me insane and unhinged.”

The Devil just smiles and shrugs a shoulder. “That tracks.” Alastor's blush is adorable. “Also, this brings us full circle: I can still make you the most powerful sinner in Hell. Even without a deal. Speaking of deals,” he taps the side of Alastor's neck with a finger. “What's this?”

Alastor's ears flatten, giving his actual feelings about it away, even if his tone is light. “Rosie. When I was in Hell long enough and couldn't find you I made a deal for power with her. But she, of course, holds my soul for it. And thereby limits my power to just enough to be the most powerful sinner. Not an iota more.”

“Gotta love the fine print.” He traces the side of Alastor's neck with his fingers. Imagining a collar from someone else there does absolutely nothing to calm his wild emotions. “I bet we can figure out a way around that. Or how to break it.”

“You can't break it?”

Lucifer shakes his head. “Even I have to abide some of the laws of magic.

“There are ones you don't?” Oh, that has piqued Alastor's interest. At least he's predictable when it comes to talk of wielding power, no matter the kind.

“Mm, grey area. I haven't tested all of them thoroughly. There are some where I have yet to find my limit, though. Like, creating things.” He opens his hand and a little red stag appears, no more than half a foot tall, elegant and stately. It blinks its black eyes up at Alastor and then shakes its head before dropping it down and using a hind foot to scratch its ear. “Go on, take it.”

The miniature deer has no problem walking onto Alastor's palm. It sniffs at his skin for a moment before curling its legs under and sitting down. “Is it alive?”

“Depends on your definition.” The withering look Alastor sends his way makes Lucifer laugh. “No, really! It's more complicated than you think. That stag: it responds to some things, it moves, it has some will of its own. I bet it can respond to simple commands, if it wants to. It can't reproduce nor is it made of biological material. It doesn't have a soul and it doesn't feel pain. It won't grow larger unless I change it. I don't think it would decompose if it died, more like sublimate? Into constituent particles?”

He watches as Alastor's thumb comes up to pet along its back. “Can you create life? Just with a wave of your hand?”

“No, not anymore.” Lucifer feels a pang in his chest and pets the stag’s back. “Just the old fashioned way, with gestation and birth and all the ups and downs therein.”

There must be something in how he says it because Alastor leans in and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Can you send this one to my rooms? But he’ll need to be bigger. There are alligators in my bayou that would see this little bit as an aperitif."

“Bigger and alligator-proof, check and check.” Lucifer cups his hands around the little stag, like he's making a sphere around him, and then the animal disappears. “You’ll need to find him later, I left a surprise for you.”

“Please don't.”

He pouts. “Aw, don't be like that. You’ll love it.”

“For being dubbed the Prince of Lies you sure are terrible at it.” Now Lucifer rolls his eyes. But Alastor continues. “You’ll need to be better than that with everyone else… unless you're planning on telling the whole hotel about us?”

“Shit, the hotel.”

“And how.”

“You know I can't lie to Charlie…” He groans, frustrated.

“You do not have to lie to her. You simply do not tell her everything. I would honestly rather she not know everything, don't you agree?” That isn't a terrible point. “Can we go clean up? No matter how pretty you are covered in your own blood, it gets sticky.” He looks around the room, perhaps really taking it in for the first time. “So many rubber ducks.”

With a snap of Lucifer's fingers their bodies are scrubbed clean, rinsed, and dried. When Alastor looks at him in question he shrugs. “Not as much fun as bathing together, but more convenient. You think I’m pretty?”

The Radio Demon summons some minions to help collect his clothing and bring it to him as he stands. “Not when you simper like that.”

Lucifer crawls over on his knees, looping his arms over Alastor's shoulders from behind and pressing his lips to the smooth skin between his shoulder blades. Suddenly a fluffy, fuzzy something is wiggling very close to the Devil's cock. He looks down between their bodies to see a red and black deer tail emerging from the base of Alastor's spine. “Hello there, cutie.”

“What?” Alastor looks back at him and then groans. “Damn it, I hate that thing. Stop it you.” In complete opposition to what Alastor wants, it wags, brushing back and forth over Lucifer's genitals.

“Oh, but it feels lovely.” He giggles. “Come on, you don't wanna give me some tail?”

Said appendage immediately pops out of existence as Alastor groans at the joke and pulls his trousers on. No undergarments, Lucifer notes, and that detail is going to haunt the rest of his existence. He's so dazed by the thought of Alastor standing around the hotel, knowing there is only one layer between him and that fantastic cock, that Lucifer gasps in surprise when his chin is grabbed by a firm hand.

The Radio Demon leans down to bring their faces close. “You be a good boy and keep our secret and maybe I’ll let you rut against my tail, drag your prick back and forth over the soft fur, until you come all over my back like the depraved incubus you are.”

Lucifer’s entire body goes pliant, so much so that when Alastor suddenly steps away the Devil almost falls off the bed—he only catches himself because his wings unfurl as a counterbalance. “Fuck,” he sighs as he flies up and then lands on his feet in front of his lover. “You really have my number, don't you?”

Alastor tucks his shirt in before he brushes Lucifer's cheek with the back of his knuckles. “We both know that Hell is a punishment, so I am sure you will figure mine out post-haste.”

“I have a few ideas,” Lucifer purrs, summoning his clothing while he gets up close to Alastor's face and bites his own lip until it bleeds, coloring it gold. When the sinner predictably moves in for a kiss Lucifer backs away, smiling, teasing. “Come on, time to get back to the hotel. They should be done painting all the walls by now.”

Alastor darts forward and wraps an arm around Lucifer's waist with a growl. “After my post-battle broadcast, I will come find you.”

“I’ll be waiting.”