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Lucifer didn’t remember falling asleep. It was entirely reckless of him, there wasn’t a lock or spell that could keep someone out of any room in this hotel if they had the key and while most people would hesitate to invade Alastor’s room, Vaggie and Charlie weren’t most and they’d both done it before.
The risk was small, but it was a risk, and he should’ve known better. He should have gone back to his room after a rough but extremely satisfying bout of sex with his…was a hate-fuck buddy a thing? They were in hell, it sure seemed like it should be, add it to the list.
He should’ve gone back to his own room after, should’ve, would’ve, could’ve, but he’d been so tired, drowsing on sheets that smelled like both of them with Alastor still panting next to him. Lucifer didn’t remember falling asleep and he definitely didn’t remember ending up like this, waking to the feel of a long, lean body warmly spooned up behind his own, both of them lying on their sides. A narrow beam of light coming in through the window silently announced it was very early morning.
It was a touch at his hair that woke him, he realized sleepily. That soft pull came again, someone was running their fingers through it, petting him like a spoiled little Pomeranian and it was a pretty good guess that the person who’d been in his bed when he’d fallen asleep was the same as when he woke.
“Alastor,” Lucifer murmured, giving up on the pretense of sleeping. He sighed as he leaned into those unexpectedly gentle fingers. “There a reason you’re being all touchy feely this morning?”
It definitely wasn’t their normal, did they have a normal? Not really, what they had were moments of heat, of anger, of desire, both tangled into something Lucifer did not want to name. They’d never been…this, another nameless thing to add to their collection and the moment felt frail, teetering on the edge between possibilities and Lucifer was reluctant to make a choice.
Alastor’s breath was warm against the back of his neck, his nails scratching gorgeously against Lucifer’s scalp as he combed his fingers again through his hair. “I’m only lying here, your highness.”
“You do realize it’s actually your majesty,” Lucifer said.
It was a gift he offered, a chance for an insult that Alastor readily accepted. “It would be if you believed I was referring to your honorific, yes.”
Meaning he absolutely wasn’t, it always had to be a subtle slight against his height, didn’t it. Lucifer breathed out his amusement, unwilling to reward him with an actual laugh. “You’re such an asshole, AL.”
Alastor ignored that, his fingers still stroking as he said, “And besides, if you’re going to complain about being touched, may I point out you’re the one who put yourself in hands reach.”
“Which your hands immediately did and I wasn’t complaining,” Lucifer tipped his head into that touch, sighing, “How long have you been petting me?”
“Is it my fault you’re so very touchable?” Alastor asked, neatly avoiding the question of time frame. “I’m to blame for your hair begging me to put a hand in it, crying out for a little pet?”
Alastor punctuated it by sliding his hand through Lucifer’s hair again, a long, slow pull that left Lucifer’s hooves attempting to curl and him gasping out, “I didn’t know my hair was so chatty.”
“I promise you, it has a great deal to say, loudly, in several languages. And it’s better than you at French, your accent is atrocious.”
Such an asshole. “If you’re going to be rude, my hair and I can be quite comfortable back in my room.”
The hand that wasn’t currently occupied in Lucifer’s hair immediately went around his waist. “No, no, no, not at all. You. Right here. Stay.”
Petted and scolded like a spoiled little pet, then. “Woof,” Lucifer said dryly, “Want me to sit up and beg for you next? Will biscuits be provided?”
The heat of his breath moved as Alastor shifted to murmur close to Lucifer’s ear. “Begging is entirely optional, but if you let me keep petting your hair, I’ll give you any treat you like.”
Oh, that had potential. “All right. That’s pretty bold of you, what if I get creative?”
“You’ve been spending all your free time making different versions of rubber ducks for how many years now? You’ll excuse me if your idea of creativity doesn’t leave me trembling in fear.”
Wow, rude, Alastor was in fine form this morning with the flirty insults and normally those would be fighting words. Lucifer was struggling to work up the proper level of indignance as Alastor’s fingers drifted lower to smooth over his eyebrows, lightly touching each eyelid, tender against the delicate skin. His other hand moved beneath the thin cover of the sheet, Alastor’s fingers sliding down his chest, across the smooth skin of his belly where no navel had ever been necessary and lower.
“Did you get lost?” Lucifer said, hoarsely. He hadn’t expected this, understanding Alastor’s motivations for sex was a work in progress, but he certainly wasn’t opposed.
“Not at all,” Alastor whispered against his ear. His tongue, a touch too long and sinuous, flicked against the lobe. “You said I could touch your hair. Is it my fault you made assumptions yet again?”
“I thought…” Lucifer’s voice stuttered, it was getting hard (heh) to think, those teasing fingers were waking up more than his mind, the slightest graze of sharpened tips making him gasp, “…I thought the location of ‘on my head’ was implicit.”
“This is why you’ve never been good at making deals,” Hot breath so close to the nape of his neck, follow by lips skimming through the fine hair there. “You’ve never learned the importance of being specific.”
Alastor’s fingers slowed low on his belly, exploring the nearly invisible trail of pale hair there, stopped only by the shorts he must’ve slipped on at some point in the night; sleeping naked never did feel right to him.
“Well?” Lucifer husked out, a low rumble that hinted at dangers few would guess the former angel capable of. “If you’re going to set yourself a task, you should do it properly…ssst!” His hiss would have done any snake proud, drawn in between his teeth as Alastor deliberately rubbed his thumb across the obvious swell at the front of his shorts, briefly firm before drawing mischievously back.
“What was that?” Alastor said, teasingly, fingertips skirting again along his waistband. “Something you needed to say?”
Lucifer didn’t actually need to breathe; oxygen deprivation was not a thing for a being who could easily pass through dimensions. It meant that Lucifer didn’t need to hold his breath as Alastor eased his fingers under the thin barrier of elastic and slid his hand into the shorts.
Soft, soft curls of hair greeted his fingertips, and softer skin grazed the back of his knuckles, hot and firm. Lucifer choked on an embarrassingly desperate sound. The air fairly crackled around them, sharp with ozone and need.
“So lovely. Shhh, easy, darling,” Alastor soothed. He shifted to press tighter against Lucifer's back, the mocking little pet name tingling down his spine. “I have you, I’m right here.” He punctuated it by combing through the soft curls surrounding Lucifer’s cock, pale, tight ringlets parting under his touch. “I’ve imagined what it would be like to bury my nose into this hair, inhale the essence of ruined angelic grace.”
“You could. You certainly have me well in hand,” Lucifer choked out.
“Mm. Now there’s an idea.” It only took a twist of his wrist to fill his palm with the hard, damp length of Lucifer’s erection. Words seemed to tangle in Lucifer’s throat as he arched up, eyes scrunched shut as Alastor gave him one hard stroke, another, finding a quick, firm rhythm that didn’t relent even when both Lucifer’s hands scrabbled at his wrist.
He wasn’t going to last long, this was still all so fresh, so new between them, and Alastor was never quiet, murmuring into his ear like a lewd radio broadcast meant only for the two of them.
“Such a pretty thing,” Alastor whispered, those static-gravelly words left Lucifer whimpering and arching, sweat dampening his face, pale lashes fluttering as he gave in and came in hot pulses into the cup of Alastor’s palm. “So gorgeous when you come, always,” Alastor crooned as a broken sob tore from Lucifer’s throat. “Every sound you make is a ballad, every breath a chorus, and I would be more than content to listen to you again and again, a private concert for the two of us.”
Whatever it was Alastor heard in his ragged gasps, Lucifer’s eyes opening signaled the end of the song. He stared across the room hazily, blinking in the low light and mumbled out, “Fucking hell, Alastor.”
The kiss at the nape of his neck probably counted as tender. “Correct on both counts.”
This was another moment, Lucifer realized, teetering on an edge between two possibilities and Lucifer shied away from one of them, from everything lying unspoken between them and chose the second option, taking refuge in teasing humor. “You really are incapable of behaving.”
The other possibility faded away along with that tenderness as Alastor laughed softly, “Mm, would you care to register a complaint? I am the facilities manager.”
Lucifer rolled over in his arms, mouths a whisper apart. “That was not in any way a complaint.”
All too soon they’d get out of this bed and Lucifer would head to his own room to shower and dress. They’d spend the day either ignoring each other or sniping insults, without a hint of any other possibilities between them; nothing but snarling bordering on hatred and no one else would guess there could be anything else.
Because there couldn’t be, there couldn’t, there was only these brief, borrowed moments in between reality. It was all they could ever have.
But they were still here for now, they were here, and Lucifer only pulled Alastor in closer and kissed him.
-finis-