Chapter Text
“You are a fucking nuisance…!”
The royal palace suddenly changes from the quiet and calm, nearly abandoned place to the center of the full-blown war.
Lucifer’s loud voice rumbles clearly within the walls of the vast throne room, the echo only amplifies its furious tone. The portal which has unexpectedly opened up right in the middle of the chamber, enlarges and suddenly a red silhouette falls out of it and collides heavily with the stone wall with an audible thump and a screech of statics.
“I have tolerated your insolence long enough,” the royal tone reverberates sinisterly as the second person comes through the magical passage, surrounded by the deadly dangerous Hellfire, raging around him.
Lucifer Morningstar is known for his unusual composure and angelic patience as well as his careless attitude most of the time. All the troubles that he’s been through, concerning his family situation and mental state have worked out a very specific comping mechanism in him, making him rather numb to any dire situation which ultimately might hurt him and make him even more miserable. Cutting off his emotions, pretending that he didn’t care at all and telling himself that it didn’t concern him was a strategy he’d been using for years after his wife left. All the indoctrination that he’d been subjecting himself to resulted in him finally believing in it, despite how wrong this thinking was, only making him spiral into the vicious circle of never-ending suffering and self-loathing. His depression, very much visible with him growing completely oblivious with time to this fact became the reason for others to try and exploit this vulnerability of his, using the fact that the ever powerful King was but a shadow of his former self, easy to manipulate precisely because of that and especially when it came to his own daughter, the only ray of sunshine that still kept him somewhat sane.
Lucifer’s mental health has still a long way to come back to its former prime, it’s still fragile. However, reconciliation with Charlie and the need to defend the Hotel against the army of the exorcist angels with Adam in the lead served the right motivation to finally come out of his shell and open up to the outside world once more. It opened his eyes to the state of ruin in which his own Kingdom was as much as the fact that some demons had become truly conceited and ambitious, hungry for power gained by any means necessary, even if it meant the attempts at manipulating the King, in order to reach their own twisted goals.
Lucifer had been so blind to the most thirsty being of them all for long months until he finally paid some closer attention to the one hiding in the shadows and having his own ulterior motives, still rather unclear to him despite the obvious appetite for more influence and power. That one audacious demon who so brazenly thought that he could rule over the literal ruler down here never tires of his schemes and small attempts but with time Lucifer has learned how to see through that everlasting smile across his face, the one which usually hides everything that’s underneath. Well, it’s not that impenetrable to him anymore and this fact brings him some immense satisfaction all the while significantly annoys the demon in question who doesn’t like to be outplayed in his own game.
This thing between them has been going on for weeks now, becoming particularly intense after the won by Hell extermination battle. Alastor has become itchy, so easily irritable and way more obvious in seeking the open conflicts between them which only riled Lucifer up in turn, causing some truly explosive arguments between them, often ending up physical and leaving a ton of damage everywhere they went which only gave Charlie even more headaches and reasons to worry for her father and one of her closest friends (much to Lucifer’s overall dismay), their relative safety very much in jeopardy with their mutual craving for maiming one another. The tension between them has only kept on rising for the past few weeks and now it seems that it has finally reached its breaking point with how the situation is currently resolving.
“I don’t know who you think you are but being Charlie’s friend isn’t going to keep you safe forever,” Lucifer’s foreboding tone resounds clearly in the vast room, empty, safe for them two now. “I am done with you belittling me and taunting on every step I take, if it were solely up to me, I would have already obliterated you in my eternal Hellfire which is a fate worse than death!” He growls as his eyes burn with fury just as his fire does, right in between his fully-grown out horns, giving him a few additional inches.
The truth is, Alastor hasn’t been particularly mean to him today but with the way all of these negative emotions had been accumulating in him lately, with them two now living at Hazbin, occupying the two opposite wings of the rebuilt Hotel and therefore being exposed to one another way more often than before the extermination day, had taken its toll on Lucifer and today he is finally ready to show explicitly this insolent demon his place in the line.
“How violent, Your Majesty,” Alastor taunts even more, not able to help his twisted nature, especially when it’s someone as infuriating as Lucifer who tells him off which he can’t help but take personally. “So much aggression in such a tiny body… surprising, truly. Where does it even fit?” He strikes a very sore point which unfortunately or not does serve its purpose in angering the Devil even more. He spits the blood as he tries to heal all the internal damage that his much less than delicate meeting with the wall has caused. With his microphone staff still broken and the wound across his chest dealt by the angelic weapon, still not properly healed, he’s far from his usual form and power and perhaps it’s quite reckless of him to play this particular game with the King today when he’s still so pathetically weakened but there is something about Lucifer that awakens in him his most primal instincts, forcing his mouth to spill all of the teasing words with full awareness that they will anger him dangerously.
Alastor isn’t dumb, he knows well of Lucifer’s powers and potential. Deep down he’s also aware of the blinding power difference between them, even if he would never admit to it. It doesn’t disturb him in trying to coax even more reactions from him, taking some ill satisfaction in seeing Lucifer’s usually cheerful expression twisting into a grimace of annoyance. And the awareness that he is the reason for it makes it even better, as sick as it seems.
Lucifer’s lips breathe fire as his eyes flash red with a hint of something much darker inside them. “This is no way to talk to you King, peasant,” the Devil growls as the portal behind him closes up with a hissing sound, successfully cutting off Al’s route back to the Hotel which has involuntarily become their neutral ground, thanks to Charlie and her endless pleas for them to finally get along. Well, they still may need to work on that second part of the request but at least Lucifer was still conscious enough to teleport them to the place that is only his own to destroy to the ground, did he want to.
“Ah, so we’re using this argument again…,” Alastor provokes some more, somewhat aware of bringing his own demise upon himself but not able to stop his too big mouth from heating up the atmosphere even more. “Seems like the only one valid nowadays,” he huffs, slowly calming down his breath and trying to ignore the dull pain of his angelic wound, echoing in his chest again, awakened by the hard collision with the wall.
“It’s the most important one, you goddamn prick. I am so fucking done with you disrespecting me, you’re in no position to be this rude and mean and I’ll hammer it into your head however I may see fit,” his lips suddenly curl up in a very unnerving manner, eerily resembling Alastor’s own smile when he has the upper hand and the demon hates it with all his might.
“Bring it on, Sire,” Al spats as he slowly pulls up to his feet again, ignoring the way he heavily leans against the wall behind him. His tendrils steadily grow out of his back menacingly as the air around him darkens significantly. His claws scratch the surface beneath them, leaving long marks which gives him some satisfaction that he’s tainting Lucifer’s old home, engraving his trace into it. “Do your worst,” he hisses as the loud statics crackle around his head.
Lucifer only smirks all the wider at him, spreading his large wings to the sides and lightening up a ball of pure hellish fire in the grasp of his hand. “Just don’t blame me afterwards when you’re no longer able to move once I’m done with you,” he mutters in a deep voice, seemingly coming from all around and crushing Al under its invisible weight.
“Aren’t you underestimating me a notch here, Your Majesty…?” He asks in an annoyed tone, not able to hide his irritation. “I am surely not your regular demon,” he hisses as he pushes off the wall and makes a step towards Lucifer who stares down at him from the air, flapping his wings.
“Oh, you’re definitely not a regular demon alright…,” Lucifer purrs as he looms over him. “I don’t know any other reckless enough to challenge the King of Hell so openly and foolishly at that. Don’t you know that you are in my house, bitch?” His eyes narrow warningly, gazing into Alastor’s own ones without as much a single blink. “And that means that you’re going to play by my rules or you’re not playing at all.”
They attack at the same time with Alastor’s tendrils surging forward and Lucifer’s fireball flying towards him. Al dodges the attack but only barely, nearly losing his balance when the Hellfire brushes against his coat, burning its hem and damaging it even more than it already was, making him let out a growl. He makes a graceful pirouette and sends his tendrils towards the Devil from all around, hoping to trap him in their grasp. He nearly lets out a sound of triumph when they enclose Lucifer but it turns out into a hiss when they’re repelled by the immeasurable scorching heat emanating from the flames. He needs to create a better opportunity here if he is to reach the stupid King at all. His little shadow minions materialize around him, ever obedient, even if the mission seems suicidal here. The sheer size of the room they’re in works in favor for him as he can plan his attack in more details and cause a diversion of some kind to try and distract the Devil. Even a tiny waver of his attention could give him the much needed advantage over him which might just even his chances here. He’s nothing if not a masterful player himself and he plans on enjoying proving his wit here. With how agile Lucifer is, especially in the air, he knows that enlarging his own silhouette is futile in this battle. Whereas it makes his clutch stronger, it also reduces his speed and that quality is of the particular importance against such an opponent. His tendrils don’t stop trying to get to his flesh all the while the little minions restlessly chase the angelic wings, trying to bite into them in an attempt to slow him down a tad. They surely keep Lucifer busy as he flies around the chamber, escaping their teeth gracefully but occupying his attention nonetheless. The tendrils might not reach the target that easily but they also force Lucifer to make many dodges on the way, proving a distraction enough for Al’s murderous shadow to creep up on him from behind. Alastor grins widely, despite the burn mark he’s just received from Lucifer’s fireball to his arm. He’s so close to finally strike him and right in between his shoulder blades at that, that he himself loses his vigilance in the fervor of the fight and doesn’t notice that he’s not the only one with the idea of stabbing his opponent in the back.
Suddenly he wheezes and his body grows rigid as his head gets yanked back by his slowly enlarging antlers and he loses his footing. The sharp claws graze his delicate throat, drawing blood a bit and stilling threateningly above his wildly pulsating artery. The Devil in front of him chuckles as he quickly dissolves into thin air, all the while his voice suddenly resounds right in his ear, teasing the delicate fur of it and making Al grit his teeth as his face grimaces in the expression of pure fury that Lucifer seems to have outsmarted him in the end.
“Don’t be so harsh on yourself, Al,” Lucifer murmurs in a taunting tone as his fire burns brighter, nearly burning Alastor in turn. “It’s the Devil himself whom you’re up against. I have my own tricks up my sleeve–“ he suddenly chokes when Al’s tendrils pierce right through his stomach in some wild retaliation, splashing the golden blood all over the floor and making Lucifer let go of him with a heavy huff.
“So do I,” Alastor growls as he breaks free from the grasp, running away from the hellish flames and falling to the floor at the sheer impact of the explosion of Lucifer’s fireball right behind his back. He quickly turns around and sees the way the Devil coughs up some blood but the wounds in his stomach are already healing, much to Al’s ire.
“So this is how you want to play…,” Lucifer sounds a bit breathless but his smirk comes back to his lips quickly as he surges forward without as much a moment’s rest, pinning Al down to the floor with some astonishing force. Alastor grunts as the back of head bumps painfully against the cold floor. He feels dizzy a bit as his world spins around but the sharp claws scratching his chest ground him in reality. He writhes and jerks wildly but can’t really move, still a bit stunned.
“Hmm, you’re pretty in red, Al…,” Lucifer muses teasingly as his claws rake down Al’s torso, ripping his clothes a tad and uncovering the hints of the fluffy fur of his chest. “It’s definitely your color,” he adds, enjoying the way his fingers leave red marks, cutting into the soft skin and opening the small wounds on their way as some certain mood makes the atmosphere around them thicken.
Alastor squirms, gritting his teeth and trying to push him off but Lucifer’s hands catch his wrist and pin them down to the floor at both sides of his head. He bristles at once as he looks up into the smirking face of the Devil through the red haze of his own blood which flows down his temple.
“Fuck you, Your Majesty,” he barks, trying to ignore the weird feeling settling in his guts. A few droplets of the angelic blood which drop down onto his lips don’t help here. Alastor can’t deny how absolutely divine the taste of it is. And how easily it messes with his head too.
Lucifer only chuckles at that darkly as his eyes bore into Al’s face, making the strange whirlwind of emotions coil in his mind. His heart beats faster as he tries to squirm away and hide the extent of the wound across his chest. He doesn’t want him to know how badly wounded he still is, even after so many weeks after the extermination.
“Choose your next words wisely, Al,” the Devil says lowly as his claw trails a path around Al’s uncovered, tempting collarbone.
Alastor doesn’t like this tone at all. He’s not sure why but it sounds threatening and dangerous and holds a hint of something that Al doesn’t quite understand which makes him awfully uneasy. In the spur of the moment decision he suddenly lunges forward and using the right tempo of his movement, he manages to roll them over on the floor, landing atop Lucifer and straddling his lap. His lips widen in a triumphant expression as he readies himself to pierce him once more with his tendrils but the sudden tight grip around his hips makes him freeze. His expression turns awkward, then mortified when he notices the very specific spark in Lucifer’s eyes.
“I’m sure you would be quite a sight, riding me…” his voice turns smooth which makes Al’s stomach turn immediately. “But then again it wouldn’t be much of a punishment,” he finishes as he uses Al’s mortification and rolls them over again, keeping him firmly down this time.
Suddenly Alastor feels some very distinctive bulge in between Lucifer’s legs which presses heavily against him and it makes him cringe in disgust. “You fucking deviant,” he barks as he tries not to move at all to restrict any friction between them to the absolute minimum.
Lucifer’s eyes only sparkle in unspeakable amusement. “Look who’s talking,” he barks back as his hand gives a very unexpected squeeze of the front of Al’s own pants, making him nearly wail and turning his attention to the miserable fact that he is also growing hard himself.
“It’s your fucking fault for making me like this,” Alastor exclaims, feeling his face flush up intensely. “Now get off!” He tries to push the Devil away again but this time Lucifer is much more vigilant and doesn’t let him slip away that easily. Al huffs in frustration. He’s not exactly a stranger to this kind of treatment. It’s not the first time they end up in such a situation. And yet it always manages to make him sick to the core that in a way he wants it and with the King of Hell at that, as much as he despises every second of it.
“Hmm, guilty as charged,” Lucifer muses, finding it way more entertaining that he has the right to. He may very much resent Alastor on regular basis but he can’t deny that these hate-fuck escapades really get him going, especially that he’s very much aware that he’s the only one who has ever explored Al’s body like this. Alastor has never actually admitted to it but it has been very obvious from the whole start and Lucifer won’t deny that he gets off on it every time they end up like this. “And I am not apologizing for it,” he smirks as he grinds their fronts together.
Alastor lets out a furious growl as he tries to escape this hopeless situation, despite having a very prominent bulge in his pants by this point. He refuses to acknowledge that the easiest (and most satisfying) way to get rid of the problem would be to just let the Devil do his unholy thing but his congenital pride and resistance protest against such an outcome with some real passion. No matter how tempting the King might seem to him right now, with his shirt ripped to pieces by his own tendrils and covered in golden, angelic blood, the biggest delicacy Al has ever tasted in his entire life, and with that mischievous glint in his reddened eyes, promising the whole world of pleasure if Alastor only said yes, despite the humiliation of submitting and giving himself into the capable hands of the much more experienced and skilled snake of a man.
“Let go of me,” he snaps as he suddenly raises his upper part and head-butts painfully Lucifer’s forehead so strongly that it rings in his own head as well and causes the wound over his temple to open up once more and overflow his left eye again.
Lucifer only grins at that as he pushes back against Al’s head and makes him lean backwards again. “Make me if you can, Bambi,” he says tauntingly and Alastor sees red not only because of the blood flowing down his face anymore. The wound across his torso burns again and throbs, weakening him significantly. He is not in his prime condition and he pays for it sorely since Lucifer seems much in the mood today and he simply loves tormenting Alastor just as much as he loves fucking with him. Or just fucking him. Without the ‘with’.
He knows when the game is already over, though and the only thing he can do now to evade even further humiliation is getting away and he intends to do just that as he sends a furious glance up to Lucifer and his silhouette wavers but before he manages to turn into a shadow something blocks his transformation and Lucifer’s hideous smirk indicates that he is very much to blame here.
“No running away, Bambi. Don’t be a coward here when we both know that you will enjoy yourself–“
“Shut the fuck up…!” Alastor rages at him, managing to break one of his hands free and aiming to ruin Lucifer’s perfect, porcelain face with his claws. A strong grasp around his wrist prevents him from doing so, though which only feeds his frustration with the whole situation, especially that his stupid boner still hasn’t gone down and he feels it squished uncomfortably against Lucifer’s front, leaving him undecided if he should grind against him or squirm away.
Lucifer clicks his tongue and shakes his head as he digs his own claws into Al’s wrist, making him grit his teeth in pain when he draws blood. “You’re incorrigible, Alastor,” he murmurs in a mocking tone as his long tongue rolls out of his mouth and slowly licks the fresh blood off of Al’s forearm, making him both disgusted and shamefully interested. “But that only gives me more opportunities to put you in line over and over again, since you never learn…,” he purrs and unexpectedly bites into Al’s wrist, making him squeak in surprise and mortification. This should not make his guts twist in this unspeakable tension that has been building up between them for the past many days the way it does and Alastor remains speechless. “Your blood gives away your real feelings,” Lucifer continues as he licks up the wound, stopping the bleeding but causing an uncomfortable itch. His bites always leave that burning sensation behind that haunts Alastor for many days after, even if the bite marks are already healed. “You cannot hide how much this turns you on,” he ruts his hips into Al, making him nearly moan. He barely manages to muffle it in his mouth, not sure what he’s even feeling anymore, confused and lost between his own dark desires and repulsion which battle in his mind feverishly.
“I don’t want it,” he hisses, knowing that Lucifer can be named many things but he will not force himself onto him so brutally. Or at least he won’t do more than he already does without the explicit consent. It’s his own luck, though that the King specializes in tempting and usually gets what he wants in the end.
“Don’t you, though…?” Lucifer challenges as he mouths slowly up Alastor’s forearm and places a bite mark in the hollow of his elbow. “Seems to me you’re lying to yourself, Bambi…”
Al already knows that but he can’t make his peace with it, still stubbornly trying to convince the Devil that he is wrong. A futile effort, though and both of them know it by now.
Alastor’s tendrils flail in the air around them in frustration, demaging the columns holding up the heavy ceiling. He cannot win with him and he cannot run away. This seems like a hopeless situation. Or rather there is one way out of it, just not something Alastor is very much keen on considering. He tries to roll them over on the floor again but all it does is Lucifer turning him onto his stomach which is an even worse outcome. The demon snarls, trying to break free and scratching the stone floor with his claws but with no real prospects of success and he is painfully aware of it. He hisses when he feels his jacket roll up, uncovering his little tail which just might be the last nail in his coffin. His back arches when a hand inevitably grabs at it which messes him up so thoroughly that he is unable to think much anymore.
“Why resist so much, Al…? There are so many better ways to deal with that problem in your pants… ways that you are not so oblivious to anymore…,” the low voice tempts and takes root in Al’s brain. The demon wants to scream, wants to spread destruction and mayhem but even his tendrils don’t listen to him anymore when deep down it’s not what he craves now, even if his mind doesn’t want to accept it.
“I hate you so much, I hate everything about you, I fucking despise you,” he spats venomously, feeling his face heat up again and his throat burn with every word he breathes. He won’t admit that he isn’t entirely honest here, though. He surely doesn’t need Lucifer to know that.
If his words sting Lucifer in his core, he ignores it, focusing on his lust and needs instead. He can very much see when Alastor stops putting up the fight and unwillingly surrenders. It’s in the way his muscles relax below him and how his ears pull back. It’s like he’s already come to terms with the fact that there is only one outcome of this situation and all that’s left in him is that bratty cheek and mouth which still disrespects his King and shows explicitly why he still deserves his punishment.
“Hmm, at last… Couldn’t you have behaved from the start…?” Lucifer murmurs as he snaps his fingers and suddenly Al’s jacket disappears and his arms get pulled back and tied up with a string of golden, pulsating ray of light. “Then again, if you had, we wouldn’t have been in this situation now.”
Al inhales with a loud wheeze as he tries to move his hands but the more he squirms, the tighter the string seems to become. “You little mutherfu–“ he shuts his mouth abruptly when he feels a hard tug on his tail.
“You really are asking for it, aren’t you?” Lucifer snaps as he observes the way Al’s body goes rigid every time he as much as touches the sensitive tail.
Alastor bites hard on his bottom lip to restrain himself from saying anything more which might only slide him further. This is how it always ends, though and the fact that he seems to be repeating the same mistake over and over again and still hasn’t learned anything only shows how much of a hopeless cause he is.
“Are you ready to atone now for all your rudeness towards your King, Bambi?” Lucifer interrupts his inner monologue and suddenly it comes to Al very explicitly just in what position he is right now, half-laying on the floor of the well-devastated throne room with his cheek pressed against the cold stone, arms tied up behind his back and hips pulled up in an iron grasp with his poor tail held hostage by the unforgiving hand. The absolute humiliation he feels at how low he’s fallen makes his heart nearly jump out of his chest as the heavy feelings coil around in his stomach all the while his raging hard-on still remains which gives him a whole new ton of misery. He is sure that he hates this situation with everything he is but at the same time he knows that wiggling out of it is nearly impossible by now with how angrily turned on Lucifer is and how his own body has betrayed him yet another time again.
And just as he is finally ready to allow it to happen (as if he ever had any choice in the matter), unexpectedly he feels how his pants and underwear get pulled down to his knees, exposing his behind completely.
Alastor stops breathing for a moment in horror. The mere thought that this hideous ordeal might happen just like this, with him bent down, with his movements restrained even further than usually and on the cold floor at that. His eyes turn into radio dials with anger and frustration that Lucifer treats him like a plaything, his toy to use in any way he wants and discard after growing bored. He swallows his pride and forces his lips to move at last.
“If you proceed just like this, on the floor, like a fucking animal, I will never forgive you, Your Majesty,” he says in a cold tone, already reconciled with his fate but not able to accept being taken like a common whore like that. Despite everything they engage in, he refuses to think of himself that way. He doesn’t sell his body, it’s more of a mutual benefit here than anything more. Even if today the display of Lucifer’s dominance over him is particularly strong and he has been defeated so obviously. He doesn’t even want to think about the dull throbbing of the wound dealt by angelic weapon that only keeps on increasing, especially in this uncomfortable position. All he wants is for this to be already over so that he can come back to his own occupations of the day, quickly throwing this unfortunate incident away from his memory.
The freezing tone of Alastor’s voice sobers Lucifer up a bit as he looks over the demon sprawled over the floor. Al’s body is tense again, he surely feels uncomfortable and Lucifer knows that he truly shouldn’t but he really doesn’t think he can enjoy this is if Alastor’s own reaction is stiff, silent waiting for it all to come to an end. This is primarily the punishment, the ascertainment of his superiority and power over the mere demon who has been disrespecting him, forgetting about his own place in the hierarchy. Lucifer has finally had enough after weeks of taunting. And yet the distaste lingers in his mouth sourly.
Because, somehow, even if these are the main reasons that led them to this situation, he won’t deny that he likes it much better when Alastor is into this. And he knows that it’s achievable if he only puts his mind into it. Fucking a silent, unresponsive body is no better than fucking a doll and this is definitely not what Lucifer is aiming here for. He likes when Al makes his precious, little sounds, enjoys when he blushes and tightens around him when he hits a better spot. He wants to see the demon completely broken and lost in pleasure and he wants to be the reason for it. This is the most fitting punishment, showing this demon who had never had such lustful interests that he does in fact have them, even if hidden deeply inside and unexplored by anyone else. And they might despise one another outside of such situations, they might call one another names and fight tooth and nail but this inevitably leads to blowing off their steam in some completely different (and more pleasant) circumstances.
This is exactly what Lucifer feels now as his eyes soften a tad, looking over the tempting backside of the demon and how still he is. It’s not satisfying if he doesn’t make him enjoy himself, the part of the ordeal is to break his conviction of his own immunity to such pleasures. His tone doesn’t give away any of his internal feelings, though, remaining teasing and mean.
“Look at you, what a real pillow princess you have become, Al…,” he smirks as he palms the soft tail in his hand, bending over him a little and rubbing his still clothed crotch against Al’s behind.
Alastor grits his teeth as he shoots a furious glance over his shoulder at him.
“You certainly won’t fuck any respect into my head by being such a crude, primitive pervert,” he barks angrily. “Quite the opposite, Your Highness,” he mocks his height again which makes Lucifer’s eyes burn anew. Alright, he might not be a savage here and fuck him on the cold and hard floor but Alastor doesn’t deserve the softness or the bed’s mattress today either.
“Were you a good boy, I would take you straight up to the royal bedroom where I would bed you in a way suited for the King’s lover. As it is now, you haven’t earned the privilege yet.”
With a swish of his powerful wings he suddenly teleports them to the dining room, pushing Al’s front down atop the counter of the large table in the middle and keeping his hips firmly in his grasp. Their abrupt appearance crashes some of the royal dinnerware, placed there permanently, not covered in dust only thanks to the special enchantment, breaking it into pieces or dropping it to the floor but it’s not like Lucifer particularly cares. He hasn’t lived here for long months already, hasn’t used the elegant plates even longer and besides it’s nothing he can’t replace and thinking of such trivialities while he’s angry and horny seems like a waste of time.
Alastor huffs as the sharp fragment of the broken porcelain cuts across his cheek. This is not exactly what he hoped for but he can’t say that it’s not better. At least he doesn’t have to kneel on the cold stone. He can’t help but complain a tad more, though, just to rile the King even further.
“A lover would part their legs willingly for you and not because this is your sick way of reminding me of my own place,” he spats venomously, profusely ignoring the way his heart skips a beat when he feels the sharp nails grazing along the bare skin of his hips. The way Lucifer answers him makes his face burn even further, though.
“And yet you seem to still anticipate what I am about to offer, little deer…,” the Devil murmurs as his fingers travel in between Al’s buttocks and press against his hole, making him shudder involuntarily. Alastor hates himself immeasurably for this reaction of his wretched body but he can’t deny the heavy tension that lingers over them.
“It doesn’t make me hate this less,” the demon spats but his tail wags nervously behind his back, giving away everything that he tries to hide.
“Hmm, keep telling yourself that,” Lucifer says with a smirk as he suddenly conjures up a bottle of lube and pours a generous amount over Al’s backside, making him hiss when the cold substance comes to a contact with his warmed up skin. Al’s tendrils grow out of his back at once, trying to attack but missing when Lucifer’s large wings bat them away. He grunts when the golden string digs into the skin of his wrists some more, drawing blood when it cuts the tissue a bit. “Sensitive much…?” The tone of Lucifer’s voice infuriates Al even more as he tries to kick him in the knee. He doesn’t exactly manage it but he stomps hard on Lucifer’s hoof, making him grunt which is satisfying enough.
“It’s fucking cold, you fuckwit,” he snaps in a breathless voice, feeling the fur on his tail bristle.
“Better cold than dry,” Lucifer huffs as he pushes two of his fingers in without as much as a warning, enjoying the way Al’s back arches immediately and his lips let out a stifled sound. “Be grateful that I’m prepping you at all. Your insolent mouth certainly didn’t fucking secure that,” he adds, spreading his fingers and stretching sloppily the tight hole, being rough but not outright cruel and clearly seeing that Alastor is getting into it, despite his wounded pride. Lucifer knows all about that hurting pride of his just like knows that by the end of the day Alastor will enjoy this all the same, even if he hates to admit it which always fills him with some sort of malicious satisfaction, breaking his resolve little by little and uncovering the raw core of his self, absolute delight every time they go through this process.
He can tell exactly when he hits the most desired place when Alastor jerks beneath him and his hands wiggle helplessly behind his back. His fingers are quick as he works him open. He still wants it to be considered a punishment and so isn’t exactly thorough in his task but cannot force himself to be simply callous to him. Violence isn’t in his nature, it’s only a mechanism that he has developed during his long life spent in Hell. Something forced upon him when he was deemed not enough (or perhaps too much) for Heaven. After years of living among the worst scum sent to this realm for eternal damnation, though, some things have grown on him to stay for longer.
Something about Alastor brings out both the best and the worst in him. The sheer amount of emotions that awaken in him every time they cross paths is quite astonishing. Lucifer has been numb for so long that this sudden rush of so many different feelings in his veins feels intoxicating and good. Lucifer feels better than in ages and he might be slowly realizing that he actually longs for these encounters if not outright tries to provoke them from time to time, simply to feel something. And feeling that something with Al is better than he could have ever imagined.
His fingers attack mercilessly Alastor’s prostrate gland, making him finally let out something more than a growl or an insolent remark. The demon beneath him very much seeks the contact himself, pushing back his hips desperately, despite his claims on how much he hates this all. Soon Lucifer deems him ready enough to at least not squish him inside and he retreats his digits, popping up open his own pants and grabbing Al’s hips. He rubs his hard cock in between Al’s butt cheeks, enjoying the friction and the sight of the small hole twitching impatiently, as if inviting him already inside.
“What the fuck are you waiting for…?” Al breathes heavily, definitely not appreciating the stalling. The impossible feeling of arousal twists his insides in a knot so tight that he can barely breathe. By this point he wants the fucking Devil to plunge in and free him from the imprisonment of his own body that craves something so repulsive that it makes his skin crawl. He needs this release to finally let go all of these pent up emotions, anger and frustration spiced with heavy desire that he doesn’t know how to deal with alone and, as it is now, is quite unable to as well.
“Unbelievable,” Lucifer laughs darkly as he shakes his head. “So demanding still… you are in no position to hold out for anything, Bambi… but if you ask nicely, I might consider your requests,” he smirks as he digs his claws into Al’s hips, observing with satisfaction the red strings of blood flowing down his sides. “So pretty in red… no one wears it quite like you,” he purrs as he presses the tip of his dick against Al’s hole. “Enjoy your punishment, sinner and acknowledge my generosity here,” he barks as he suddenly pushes in up to the hilt, tearing a loud shriek out of Alastor whose legs nearly give out. He doesn’t even give him a moment’s break as he starts moving his hips right away, making Al arch his back violently with a wild screech. The demon is goddamn tight and this feels so good already, he truly intends on enjoying Al’s body thoroughly until the end.
Alastor bites so hard on his lips that he tastes his own blood. The quick and rough pace shakes the table beneath them, breaking even more glass and plates as they fall over and down to the floor. Lucifer fucks him deeply, making sure that he can feel all of him, so unexpectedly big and overwhelming, despite his rather small posture overall. It always messes Al up, making him walk funny after they’re already done and every step reminds him explicitly of how the King has him exactly in a place he wants it, helpless, taking everything he’s being given and despite hating every single minute of it, he still comes back for more.
There must be something wrong with him, Lucifer has broken something inside him, changing irreversibly their fates and tangling them together and deep down Alastor already knows that he is addicted. Addicted to seeing anger in those red eyes and to facing the consequences of being the sole cause for it. Addicted to this mad feeling which satisfies him, only to wake up the next day filled with self-disgust and loathing. Finally, addicted to the one who does all of these things to him, taking into possession his body and mind and making him a slave to the pleasure that no one else can give him.
Alastor’s eyes close as he lets out a wail, feeling his face drown in his own drool, blood and tears. The sheer force of the thrusts makes his front rub harshly against the counter of the table, breaking the stitches over the angelic wound once more and opening it up. He ignores the pain, getting lost in the pleasure instead as he sobs quietly, feeling every accurate thrust deeply inside him where it always feels best. This feeling numbs all the others as he feels his legs weaken, quickly approaching his peak already, especially when the hand tugs on his tail again.
“Fuck, Al, don’t tighten so much around me,” Lucifer barks, keeping his hips in place and pushing one of his legs up, leaning his knee against the edge of the table to open him up even more as he slams into him without any restraint anymore. He can clearly tell when Alastor finally lets go and climaxes with the way he arches his back and moans loudly, making a mess beneath their hooves.
“Ooh, fuck,…Luci…fer…” his voice gets heavily distorted by the statics but the Devil can easily fish out his own name as he rams into him, quickly following, only to finish deeply inside with a satisfied grunt, pushing his forehead against Al’s back.
“Oh, holy fucking shit...,” he murmurs after a few seconds as he catches his breath, letting Al’s leg down again. “That was bloody something this time. I give you the permission to anger me more frequently if this is how you’re gonna sing for me later on,” he says jokingly as his ire settles down completely. He frowns, though, when he doesn’t hear any answer. “Oi, Al, have I fucked you speechless or what…?” He pulls out of the demon and raises up his head, as his frown deepens when he feels the heavy scent of blood in the air. They sure have mutilated one another a tad but the stench seems so rich–
He nearly bites off his tongue when he sees Alastor lying in the puddle of crimson blood that slowly spreads out over the surface of the table.
“What the fuck…?” He quickly sets Al’s wrists free and turns his limp body over on the table, searching for the source of the bleeding. The front of Al’s shirt is torn a bit by his own claws but that’s obviously not what has caused the bleeding of this caliber. The material is already well soaked and Lucifer is about to rip it off Al’s chest when suddenly Al’s hand encircles his wrist. Lucifer looks up and meets the hazy eyes of the demon, clearly fucked out of his mind but the way his cheeks turn steadily ashen assure Lucifer that the reason for his weakness isn’t solely in their good fuck.
“Leave it,” Alastor whispers as he tries to push him away. Lucifer’s having none of it, though.
“Like Hell, I’m gonna leave it!” He snaps, grabbing the ruined shirt into his hands. “When I said red looked good on you, I didn’t mean bleeding out in my dining room– holy fuck…!” He exclaims when he sees the large wound across Al’s chest, deep and long and bleeding so much that Al’s growing powerlessness doesn’t seem surprising anymore. He stares in shock, seeing the remains of the green stitches over it, where they still barely hold. “What the fuck is this–“
“I’ll stitch it up again in a moment, just… just let me catch a breath and I’ll clean all the mess, Your Majesty…,” Alastor mutters with an irritated spark in his eye. He feels so tired and his world keeps spinning around and it’s all Lucifer’s fault. The least he can do is to give him a few minutes to pull himself together and he’ll be as good as new.
“Yeah right, and bleeding out to death in the meantime, sounds like a fucking plan, Al,” Lucifer snaps, trying to hide how mortified he is by this sight.
“Fuck off…,” Alastor grimaces as he closes his eyes again, feeling weak and tired and wishing Lucifer just left him alone.
“This is no average wound,” Lucifer’s glowing hand reaches out to him but Al’s tendril bars the way.
“Don’t touch,” he hisses, regretting sorely that Lucifer has found out about it and in such a humiliating way at that. This ugly secret was never supposed to come to light, especially not in front of the King of Hell.
“Stop being difficult here, Al,” Lucifer pushes away the tendril easily and touches gently the skin around it. “No amount of stitches will help you close up the wound made by an angelic weapon, I would know.”
Alastor’s eyes turn into radio dials as he stares at the Devil in shock. “How do you–
“Oh please, have you forgotten who you are speaking to now?” Lucifer rolls his eyes. “I have received my share of angelic strikes during my falling. Also, I am the only one down here who can actually heal this wound so shut the fuck up and let me do my work. Or die a second time, it’s not like I particularly care, your choice.” His words seem cold but the fire raging in his eyes suggests that they aren’t entirely true. Alastor turns his gaze away but obediently stops resisting, letting Lucifer’s hand work its magic. “This might hurt a bit,” he warns as his palm suddenly brightens up in the purest light ever seen down in Hell. It makes Alastor scream so loudly along with the explosion of the deafening statics all around him that all the remaining glass shatters into tiny pieces. Lucifer’s wings shelter them from the little shards sent into the air like tiny bullets, him not minding them injuring his feathers in the slightest. Even though Al's skin doesn’t actually burn, it all certainly feels like the inferno itself, the invisible flames seem to reach out right into his very core, almost making his heart stop in the seemingly never-ending agony.
Lucifer grits his teeth, hating every second of this moment, seeing how much pain and suffering it brings Al. He also knows that he can’t stop now, the wound needs to be healed for good this time if Alastor is to stand a chance. And somehow the thought of losing this cheeky demon seems unbearable.
Lucifer burns out any remaining traces of the angelic energy residing inside the wound which was still eating up at the tissues, preventing the healing processes and closes it up in an agonizingly slow pace but being extra careful and thorough here. Alastor has lost enough blood already. The blinding pain made him lose consciousness in the process as his voice silences and his body goes limp. His breath evens, though and that’s the sign for Lucifer that he’s nearly done here. The wound leaves a deep scar across Al’s chest but otherwise looks clean and healed enough. Lucifer’s hand stops glowing at last as he looks over his silhouette. Al seems peaceful at last but Lucifer is surely going to be haunted by this sight for a long time to come. He cannot believe that he’s never noticed anything. Guess his anger turned lust has always clouded his mind enough and Alastor has never been keen on sharing any of his secrets, even when it hurt him. Lucifer is pretty sure that this thing has hurt him enough.
The Devil makes all the mess disappear from their bodies and bites lightly down on his cheek, getting lost in his thoughts. Leaving Al here is not an option. Taking him back to the Hotel seems not to be the greatest idea either. It’s quite a distance from the palace and he has used so much of his power and energy already to heal Al that he needs to take some rest as well.
With a heavy sigh, he takes Al into his arms and teleports them swiftly up to the royal bedroom. He places him gently atop the sheets of the bed and fixes his clothes for him, knowing that Al will appreciate that. He tucks him in beneath the covers and slowly sits down by his side. He catches himself on the intention to brush one unruly wisp of hair off his forehead and quickly turns around his eyes, feeling his heart pounding in his chest. A dangerous territory he’s entering here but he can’t shake off the feeling that Alastor really is pretty and not only in red.
Lucifer grits his teeth and turns his back to the demon on the bed, clenching his hands on his knees. He blames it all on the whole rush of adrenaline which has been accumulating in him for the whole day today. It surely doesn’t mean anything more because that would force him to admit that he cares for Alastor, the fucking Radio Demon and he most certainly doesn’t. One thing still eats away at him, though.
“Why haven’t you ever told me about this wound…?” He asks the void, shaking his head. “I would have healed you sooner…”
“…you’ve never asked, Your Majesty,” he hears from behind a weak voice and turns around abruptly, seeing that Al is awake again but still seems awfully feeble.
And he wants to be mad at him and blame him solely for hiding this secret from him but at the same time he knows that he has no right to. There’s really no excuse for him for never realizing how badly Alastor had been wounded, despite every angry hook up they’d had so far but suddenly Lucifer realizes just why Al never wanted to take off his shirt during such activities and always turned away from him. Guess that mutual hatred wasn’t the only reason as he previously assumed.
“…touché,” the Devil sighs only, seeing that Alastor is drowsing off again and letting him rest some more. He still manages one last cheeky comment before falling asleep once more, though.
“Seems I’ve earned that sacred privilege, after all…,” Al muses with a small smirk which still lingers on his lips, even when he’s no longer conscious.
Lucifer’s eyes widen as he looks over his sleeping silhouette for a few minutes longer, feeling his heart racing as some very disturbing thought slowly takes shape in his mind.
Mutual hatred, huh?
This suddenly feels like the biggest lie he has ever told himself.
Yeah, mutual hatred, my ass.