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Alastor is enjoying a late night drink, hunched in his seat as he lazily sips at his whisky. The only angel he tolerates is right there with him. Husk has long since gone to bed, so the two of them are free to drink in eachother's company. Alastor does just that. He openly admires the man lounging against the chair beside him.
Lucifer leans against the bar top, his ass resting on the edge of the seat but not sitting, his arms splayed against the countertop holding him up. His own drink dangles precariously in a hand, liable to fall if he were anyone else. Lucifer stares at him in turn, eyes raking over him so intensely he can feel it. The featherlight touch of fingers trailing on the outside of his clothes.
Alastor leans closer, his drink shoved to the side. The only vice he needs is right in front of him. Lucifer does too, those blazing eyes narrowing as their lips brush against each other.
Then the front doors slam open.
Alastor does not flinch, no matter what Lucifer will tell him later, but Lucifer most currently does. He jumps into the air, yanking himself back from Alastor and forwards to confront the intrusion so violently his drink sloshes over the rim. It creates a dark spot on the floor.
Alastor slinks from his chair, the air around him crackling with static as the intrusion, a blur of pink and white approaches.
"Woah woah hold ya horses!" Angel shrieks, when he reaches them. He holds out a paper sack like it's a shield or a poor excuse of a peace offering.
And there's something off about him. His words are slurred, his posture wobbly. Normally he'd assume he's just drunk but he's sniffing too much, and his pupils are blown wide.
Lucifer gives voice to his suspicion, "Are you high?"
Angel pauses his whole body stiffening before he breaks into a manic laugh. "Pffft no no, but forget about me short king," he deflects as he steps closer, throwing an arm around Lucifer's shoulders but he overshoots his balance and winds up leaning against him to remain upright. "I got somethin for ya," he says with a few giggles.
Lucifer takes the offered package, the sad looking paper bag. Except now that he's closer to it there seems to be quite a bit of heft to it. Lucifer looks to Alastor, hesitation, a silent question if he should bother to entertain this. Alastor has no answer for him but he must admit, he's a little intrigued. Even his annoyance at being interrupted doesn't dampen it.
Alastor shrugs and his movement gets noticed by Angel. The spider looks at him like he somehow forgot he was there. He tries to swat an arm at him from over Lucifer's shoulder but it just succeeds in being a weak flap of his hand. "I'll get you one too Smiles," he says.
Yes because that was Alastor's reason for his slight upset. All attention is returned to Lucifer at the sound of rustling as he's uncrmpling the bag and reaching inside. Alastor almost wishes it was drugs instead of what it is.
For what Lucifer pulls out is a sizeable glass jar and a doll. The doll is the size of Lucifer's hand, hard plastic that looks uncannily like him. It has every detail, right down to his cane. Except it's squashed, taking his lengthy frame and condensing it into a rounded cute thing. Marketable, his mind supplies.
Angel looses it. He laughs loudly, jostling Lucifer as he slaps his back with every guffaw. "I dunno if ya get it but I couldn't resist," he says. He looks between the two of them and descends into another fit of giggles. But at their lackluster response he's quick to retreat. Laughing all the while as he mutters to himself how he had thought it was funny.
Alastor is a little confused and a little horrified that somewhere out there a sinner or a Hellborn has studied him so extensively that they made that thing. Angel may have thought otherwise but he knows what the two seemingly unrelated things imply.
Worse is that a part of him suspects that the doll is mass produced, it's too uniform not to be. Unless its maker has had practice with this. He shivers at the thought.
"What a horrid gift," he scoffs.
"I don't know," Lucifer says as he inspects the thing. Although he's looking at it all wrong. His eyes are considering and nearly how they were before the interruption. "It has its charms."
"Have you gone blind? Your thousands of years of existence catching up to you?" He hisses and he doesn't like the smirk Lucifer sends him in response. "I'm right here, that thing isn't needed."
Lucifer's eyes cut to his wrinkled with a withheld laugh but the smirk remains firmly in place. "I could show you the appeal," he offers.
Alastor can't even fathom what that means. But he'd very much like to have things back to how they were before Angel's little interruption. "Alright," he says and follows Lucifer to his room. Their drinks abandoned at the bar.
__________
They reach his room and Lucifer has yet to say anything. A small annoyance as Alastor is beyond curious now. Arousal began with the near kiss and it's only built since then. He can feel it in the air, alive and crackling like his radio waves.
Lucifer places the jar and the plastic doll on his desk then turns to look at him. His self assured smirk turns mean and that's all the warning Alastor has before he's waving his hand.
Alastor is engulfed in the warm yellow glow of his magic. It blankets him, restricting his limbs in a tingling mass. He can't help but to groan a little at the feeling, of the weight of a warm touch gracing everything. Then Alastor feels himself shrink. Lucifer gets taller and his legs leave the ground. It is as if his entire being is being compressed, painlessly folding in on itself.
In fact it's far from painful, all he can feel is the warm tingling. It crawls across his skin in light touches, reminding him of how it felt to have Lucifer look at him with such naked want. A steady pressure as he moves, his stomach dropping like he's falling.
Alastor looses track of things, taken to an unseeing, unhearing place for mere moments. When awareness returns solid ground is beneath him and Lucifer is much closer. In fact he's huge, akin to a warm brick wall than a man as his largeness is nearly unfathomable.
He feels like an ant and it only worsens when he attempts motion. His limbs move oddly, a little stiff and he can't do all that he wants to. But that pales in comparison to what he's discovered. His few steps lead him to an impass as suddenly the ground has a ledge and he looks down to see the floor he was previously standing on.
He looks up at Lucifer and then behind him, where the jar sits. The doll is nowhere to be found.
"What did you do to me?" Alastor shouts uncaring of the potential to wake anyone, but it wouldn't have mattered. His voice comes out as tiny and squeaky as wet shoes on linoleum.
Lucifer hears him just fine however for he clearly stifles a laugh before picking him up. His hand wraps around him easily, nearly engulfing him and very briefly Alastor worries he'll be crushed. Yet, where Lucifer's fingers lie he cannot feel his flesh dipping in response, it remains hard and firm. Confirming what already was, that Lucifer has transferred his being into that cursed doll.
Lucifer holds him up to his face and his sheer joy at the situation would be insulting were it not for the odd swooping in his belly. The clench of arousal hasn't left despite the circumstances. And Lucifer knows it.
"I told you, I'd show you the appeal but gosh," he gasps and it's genuine. His eyes have turned soft, looking at him with adoration. The soft bellied kind that makes Alastor think of honey but the heated arousal still lingers. It's there in the way his pinky rubs against Alastor's back, sending shivers his current body isn't capable of conveying. "I didn't think you'd be this cute," he coos.
Lucifer brings him up to his face and kisses him on the lips. At least that's what he thinks he was aiming for. With how things are his lips cover the entirety of his mouth and nose. It leaves a wetness on him and Lucifer thoughtfully swipes it away with the thumb that holds him.
That too is large, and he can't help but to focus on how strong something as simple as a thumb looks to him now. Satisfied, Lucifer holds him against his chest as he grabs the jar with his other hand, depositing it on the desk's chair. Lucifer lowers him into the jar.
Being surrounded by glass on all sides but above is an odd thing to experience. The glass is cold and it clinks under his tiny plastic hooves. His cane is with him too, he never let go of it but he happily lets it fall to touch the sides of the jar. It is a narrow jar. He has the room to sit down if he wishes but not without a bit of difficulty.
He's so focused on inspecting his fragile prison that he misses Lucifer moving, until a shadow falls over him. He looks up and right there is his hardened cock. He's taken back by the sheer size of it. It's taller than him and just shy of being as wide. Lucifer is flushed gold, and the minute details of his veins and the folds of skin are revealed to him.
Alastor can feel himself warm, a strong zing of arousal. The excitement is getting to him, the curiosity and anticipation as he has an idea of what will unfold but it’s Lucifer. He never does things the typical way. Lucifer stares down at him a satisfied smile on his face and that combined with the clear indicator of arousal has Alastor wishing his own facilities were in order.
He's proven right about Lucifer's peculiarities as with a snap two more of him appear. Carbon copies that surround the chair, their cocks out, held just by the open top of the jar. Alastor would be lying if he said it wasn't flattering. To have his lover's want doubled and displayed in such a way for someone he's not even going to touch.
Somewhere within him, perhaps the echos of his once flesh and blood, he can feel his heartbeat thumping. He can feel it thrumming in his chest, and his groin as he stands there and waits. A plea to get on with it wrapped up in an insult pushes at the backs of his teeth but he can't seem to force it out. Too taken by the sight above him.
Lucifer seems to read him anyways so with a fond chuckle, and a look to his clone's they begin. Lucifer, his Lucifer, and he can always tell, remains at a slow pace. He languidly pumps his hand around himself, the visual no less enticing. His clones however, go about it in a furious manner. They move their hands hard and fast, illiciting deep moans and salacious wet noises.
It almost looks painful for them as they twitch and grunt above him. Another thrum runs through him and Alastor finds himself attempting to alleviate it anyways. Resting his hand on his crotch where nothing greets him but smooth plastic. It's down right frustrating, being surrounded by lust, the sounds, the sights and the smell of arousal and not being able to participate in any of it.
He can feel the hand that's between his legs but that's about it. He might as well be touching his arm, if that too was usually hard cool plastic. He watches on, vicariously feeling the strong unforgiving strokes of that of the clones. He awaits with baited breath.
One of the clones finally breaks. It's face positively crumples, and a high keen escapes its throat as a rope of spend reigns down on him. It mostly hits the side of the jar, but it splatters onto him. It's thick and hot, heating his body for him now that he's unable to.
Normally he'd be disgusted at such things. As bodily fluids and vicious liquids revolving around sex aren't held in particular high regard. But right here, standing trapped in a jar taken aback by the sheer amount of it, it does what his hands and this body cannot.
He revels in the feeling, in his dirty thoughts and being finally having some sort of a physical manifestation. He looks at his Lucifer, golden flushed cheeks upturned in a smile. The clone that had just finished isn't alone, as the other one follows soon after. This time its aim is true and hits Alastor squarely on the head.
It's like he's standing under a shower as the hot globs of it roll down over his body. It slides down the choppy unmoving hair, his larger than normal ears at it adheres to the plastics grooves. It clings to him, permeating everything. It's all that he can smell, the salty musk encompassing as totally as it does physical. He can hear himself gasp, maybe even moan but it's muffled as it enters his mouth. Landing there in an almost too much glob as it continues to reign down.
It takes up nearly his entire mouth, making it feel distinctly full, as if his cheeks are puffed for the amont although that is impossible. He swallows it down, nearly coughing and it slides like a weight into his belly. His mind tries to comprehend where it goes, how it's possible that anything can enter but he doesn't dawdle on it. Far more interesting things are here to occupy him.
After what feels like forever the most recent ropes stop coming. Alastor looks up and spies the clones in bliss. Their faces sweaty and utterly satiated, lazy happy grins as their cocks soften. The only one still going is Lucifer, his hand's pace hasn't increased an inch. Alastor mistaking thinks it's over but the clones dissapear in a puff of cartoonish smoke, only for more to take their place.
Two other ones stand where they stood, hard cocks at the ready. Alastor doesn't even appreciate the show anymore as a strange sense of panic fills him. There's already a layer of cum filling the bottom, what happens when there is enough to go over his head?
Moreover, how did he even summon them? He hadn't heard a snap. Granted his ears might be a little full, and it's entirely his fault, but surely not that much. He looks up and Lucifer is watching him, that same satisfied smirk on his face. Alastor trails his eyes down, to what preciesly his hand is doing.
Is he? Is his hand hitting his flesh the indication necessary to produce more?
Alastor can do nothing but stand and watch as the cloans continue on, with Lucifer happily overseeing the proceedings. He's never felt so small in either his life or afterlife. And his boy does the oddest thing, the arousal stays strong. It still thumps through him. It courses through his limbs, his chest and his core. Painful spikes as he has no way to alleviate it.
The fear mingles with the arousal making a potent mix. One who's call he can't avoid. Alastor tries to tame it into something more manageable, to imagine that the fingers that rub between his legs are actually doing something. That the warmth he feels is from himself and not what coats him.
The clones keep at it and it seems as if they're faster than last time. He attributes it to Lucifer, his unsatiated lust manifesting in the clones. His cock pulses with a visible need and his moans are getting louder, just airing on the side of desperate. Alastor can feel himself pulse in reaponse and he fruitlessly rubs his hand harder. The only sound that greets him is that of plastic rubbing against plastic.
The cum never stops, clone after clone is brought to finish and they simply keep appearing. It's coating him a never ending shower and he knows he'll never be clean again. It gets into his mouth and he greedily swallows it down even as it threatens to choke him.
His body feels warm, wanting to shake as his desire climbs higher and higher with no clear end in sight. His only sollace is that Lucifer is no better, he can see him struggling to keep his touch light and loose. Alastor leans against the glass, his forehead resting against it. Partly to remain standing and to spare himself from having to swallow any more of his filth.
With all the sights and sounds demanding his attention it takes Alastor a long while to notice that something between his legs has changed. For it to register that the constant buzzing warmth has turned corporeal. The plastic between his legs, where he's been busy rubbing with a ferver, is noticeably warm. He slows down his pace and presses.
The plastic dips.
A thrill runs through him and he moves his hand with a purpose. He rubs at the spot, hard and fast and delights in how it squishes beneath his touch. The filth continues to rain, dripping down his back and off of his hair. Rivers of cum that feel as hot as magma.
He leans heavily against the glass, his breath fogging it and obscuring his vision but even so he can feel Lucifer's eyes on him. Watching him fall apart without a fingernail of his touch. The filth builds around and on him as he continues, chasing the small bits of pleasure he's allowed. The filth is up to his waist now.
Hiding his face against the glass does nothing to deter Lucifer's will. To see Alastor covered in his mess. It drips from his hair as if it's sweat. Running down his cheeks and his forehead. He gives up and takes his head off of the glass. From this angle all he can see is Lucifer's hand and what it's wrapped around but he thinks he's pleased.
His little discovery finally bears fruit. The warmed, softened plastic breaks and he lets out a shivering moan. His fingers reach inside but nothing is there, not really. It feels as pleasurable as flesh and blood, an inviting warmth but there is no clenching of skin. It's hollow and it's only slightly disconcerting to feel the disconnect between body and mind.
But it is relief.
He moans loudly, before the sound gets choked out of him by cum. He feels unbearably warm, from the cum that coats him and his own lust. His hand moves furiously, sliding in and out of that useless hole and he hits against the mass of cum. His hand slaps against the surface, a distinct wet noise and an accompanying spray that he can imagine is coming from himself.
Never has the rapid rate of its rising been made more clear than now. He can feel it creeping up his legs, drawing closer to his midsection as it becomes harder to move his hand. He tries anyways, submerging his hand as he fucks himself. It's starting to make its way inside with the rising of filth. Flickers of warmth and he uselessly tries to rise above it.
He leans against the jar, propping himself on his toes yet he doesn't dare still his hand. But the flood keeps coming, and he looks up at its sources. There are only two now, Lucifer has stepped back, still slowly stroking but he can see Alastor in his entirety and more importantly Alastor can see him more clearly too.
Through the slight smoke of the clones fluctuating appearances as they spawn and de-spawn at random, he can see the flash of Lucifer's teeth. He's pleased beyond measure at how lowly he's brought him. And Alastor's desperate mewls turn into a keen.
Lucifer gets a front row seat as Alastor can't escape the cum anymore. It reaches his waist and with the pump of his fingers he ushers it inside himself. Tiny slips of fresh warmth and its thrilling. He hasn't the faintest idea where it goes but he can feel it somewhere inside him.
The shadows above him suddenly disappear and no more clones spawn to fill it. He looks out and through the haze, from his own mounting pleasure and the vanished clones, Lucifer reaches forwards and jostles the jar.
Alastor looses his balance, falling as his one arm flails for purchase on what boils down to a liquid. He smacks into it back first and he's submerged. Warmth surrounds him. His legs, body and chest. It gets into his eyes and mouth before he's thrashing trying to sit.
A flood of thick warmth rapidly fills him. It's as if he's a hollow bowl upturned in water. The surface tension has broken and he's free to be filled. And fill him it does. He moans loud, desperate and muffled as it rushes in. His fingers are hardly an inconvenience, it's so powerful it forces his improvised hole open.
It's all encompassing, a shock that has him frozen as it permiates him. Hs eyes are scrunched shut, however this new form allows that to happen, but he wouldn't be able to see anyways. He can feel it pressing on his eyes, fighting to get in the same as it does for his mouth. The rushing has stopped and he knows he's entirely filled.
His stomach which he may or may not have anymore was full enough from what he'd swallowed, and now it's added to that feeling. He's fit to burst, his torn hole stretched around the filth and he can feel it pulsing with his heartbeat. But somewhere inside him he knows it's all in his head. The hole does not move.
His lungs begin to burn, the spasms of his limbs as he instinctually fights for breath. He cannot get his bearings, he tries to stand, to push himself up with his arms but he slips. He can't find purchase. So he flails like a fish, the sounds of slapping permitting the air. Joining the ones Lucifer had never ceased.
He hears a faint chuckle and something solid closes around him as he's lifted from the jar. The air is cold and he feels a phantom shiver through his hacking coughs. He's still in the midst of one when he cracks a slimy almost crusted eye open.
"And? Do you see the appeal now?" Lucifer says with a chuckle as he stares down at him.
Lucifer's voice seems louder like this. Almost a boom that tickles at Alastor's chest, just shy of reverberating in it. He can't help but to notice that the sound of flesh gliding against flesh has stopped. He rattles off another cough before he can breathe again.
"I hate you," Alastor rasps like he's taken his cock, with how much cum he's swallowed he might as well have.
Lucifer hums in response. "Well then, I guess I'll just have to show you more reasons to come around," he says.
He gives Alastor a light squeeze. He feels something shift within him, a hollowed out feeling as some of the fullness leaves him. He hears a distinct splattering on the ground below. His face flushes in shame, his ears surprisingly moving to flatten against his head with it.
Alastor looks down and there on the ground is a sizeable splatter of cum. To his horror there are lingering drips that come from none other than him.
"For someone who isn't convinced you got desperate enough to make a hole," he comments and Alastor can't muster a response. Not against the look he gives him, the golden blush coupled with the pure heat in his gaze.
Lucifer's eyes flash and he moves him lower.
Arching through the air is strange even the second time around. He can feel the weightlessness, the powerlessness as he has no control over where he goes. The breeze of movement strikes him, his soaked skin, his heated insides and cools them. It sends a tingle up his spine as he watches as he's brought closer and closer to Lucifer's cock.
He saw how large he was before, when it was hanging above him but it looks larger up close. It's intimidating truth be told. It's as thick, if not, thicker than his entire body. It certainly is taller.
He places Alastor right up against his cock, holding him there. He's by the top, his body squashed against the underside while his head peeks over the tip. His body is flat as a board but with Lucifer's manhandling his arms and legs are maneuvered to hold him.
The entire thing is warm and it joins the quickly cooling filth that coats him. It pulses against him a pressing weight and a part of him is relived to have something solid to hold onto. And Lucifer is still smiling, as if he's won something.
"Is that all?" He asks, trying to sound board but he knows his want creeps its way inside. With his legs spread as they are, the press of Lucifer's cock against him, he can feel phantom pulses ringing through him.
"Not in the least," Lucifer responds.
The hand that holds him moves, and he's gliding against him. Lucifer's cock covers him entirely and he has to turn his head so his face isn't completely covered by it. The sounds are beyond lewd, wet and sticky. Alastor can't help but to moan as something warm and solid finally touches him. His own fingers offered no such remorse. Lucifer is close behind, a small cut off gasp that has the hand wrapped around Alastor twitching.
He's sandwiched between Lucifer's hand and his cock, the oddest turn of a rock and a hard place. He can't get over how warm he is, how with a flex of an arm or a leg he can feel every vein and wrinkle in his skin. When he's brought down lower, his legs and his butt are flush with Lucifer's pubes. They tickle his legs and he sees some of Lucifer's own mess transfer onto the strands, slicking them down.
This is so much better than his fingers.
Lucifer's cock touches him exactly where he needs to be touched. It slots against him large and hard, rubbing where he can no longer reach. The sounds continue as Lucifer moves him faster, his own desperation showing. He can hear it too with stuttered breaths and little moans.
It has his own lust flaring again, a swoop in his full stomach as Alastor realizes how little he can do. Nothing but cling and moan. He has tried to move his limbs but with the pace Lucifer has set it's like going against strong gusts of wind, or trapped in a body of water.
"Fuck Alastor-" Lucifer moans. "You're perfect like this, covered and filled with my cum," he huffs and he can feel Lucifer grip him tighter. A squeeze around him and his own cock that has Alastor gushing again. He can feel the cum being forcibly expelled, the emptiness it leaves him with.
"So cute, and filthy," he hears Lucifer mutter.
Alastor's embarrassment grows at what he must look like. Covered in Lucifer's filth, acting as his toy as more of it shoots out of him. But Lucifer's pace continues and so does his words.
"I need you Al-" a halfhearted pump, "Alastor, I need to feel you."
With one more pump Alastor is lifted right to where he started. He gets another glimpse at Lucifer's face, instead of his flushed and needy cock. Lucifer is almost as messy as he is. Granted, he's not covered and filled with copious amounts of cum but he's slipping. His hair is mussed, his face sweaty and flushed. Alastor knows Lucifer's nearly gone with the panting, perpetually catching a breath that he doesn't need.
Alastor looks away from him and towards his tip. The head is flushed an angry gold and a pearl of precum sits in between its slit. Alastor gets a nasty little idea upon seeing it.
He clings to Lucifer, granting him precisely what he wants; feeling him. Awareness at his plan flickers in those hazy eyes of his and Lucifer gives him a firm tug. Trying and failing to force him to move.
Now Alastor stares up at him and smirks as he plants his mouth onto his tip. It's too much for him to fit his mouth around but he makes a valiant effort. His mouth is strained, his lips pulling in odd ways, unlike skin, while his jaw noticably aches. He's surprised that he has a tongue able to extend but he slips it directly into his weeping tip. Licking up that succulent little pearl.
Lucifer chokes on his next panted breath. He winces, his shoulders rising while he looks skywards. It's a struggle for him to keep his eyes on Alastor.
"Alastor please," he begs with another firm tug.
Alastor doesn't respond with words, he finds his tongue has a much better use than that. He pokes along his tip, mainly the slit, while he shimmies his upper body against his tips lip. The ridge that he's perched on.
He pokes his tongue downwards, teasing at entering his urethra. Lucifer lets out a whimper, and tugs at him again. Alastor tries to hold on but Lucifer is desperate and his body is still slick from his seed. His grip slips, and he's tugged off of him.
Lucifer doesn't say a word. He stares down at him, panting with his eyes sparking. He uses one hand to spread his legs open. Hooking a finger beneath each knee and pulling. For the first time Alastor himself has a view of what's going on down there.
It’s exactly that, a hole but it’s warped. It’s jagged with pulled spindly strings around its edges. His carelessness upon making it is evident. What’s more though, is the cum. It sticks to those thin threads of plastic he had torn, dripping and lewd. It stretches across the entrance too, but none of it leaks out. Strange considering how it got in there in the first place.
He doesn’t have time to ruminate however, as Lucifer lines him up and pushes.
As it enters him, Alastor's feels like he'll never breath again. There's no room for air, for anything but the bit of pulsing, searing heat that fills him. He watches as cum surges out the sides of him. He didn't have much room to begin with and Lucifer is taking up every available space.
His head jerks back in his shock. His mind blanks, the little thoughts he’s been having focus on the thing inside him. The alarms that sound as he should not be this full, what is he doing he’ll break! but he cannot hear them. He only listens to this new body.
And this body is telling him to please keep going.
This body is sturdy but ultimately fragile. It stretches around Lucifer, the heated plastic breaking to a size he didn’t think he would be able to maintain. He feels his legs jostle and he realizes it’s from Lucifer’s cock pushing them aside as it goes. His fingers aren’t needed to hold him open anymore.
Slivers of pain reach him through the blanket of his pleasure. As those alarm bells ring and ring.
Lucifer pushes up against the cum, a fullness that he can’t describe. He can feel it sliding against Lucifer’s cock the further it goes in. Just as he can feel it pressing against this bodies form.
Alastor looks down and the sight that greets him disturbs him to his core. His entire abdomen spanning to his chest is engorged. There’s a sizable bump, what may as well be a mountain, that forces his plastic flesh to tent around it.
He lets out a wanton moan, cry or whimper. Alastor doesn’t quite know what it is but he knows that it’s loud. Rattling through his body and the air with a mission to be heard.
“That’s it,” Lucifer coos as he finally stops pushing. It’s clear that Alastor can go no further lest the king breaks his favorite toy. “Take it like a good boy.”
Alastor takes a shuddering breath, and even that is full. He watches his enlarged body shift to complete the action. He notices a crack, a tear running up the length of the ridge. This body cannot shake but he knows it would be if it could. There's that same tiredness seeping upon his limbs and radiating throughout his body.
Yet, despite the real and present danger Alastor wants nothing more than to continue. To be filled to bursting exactly like this. Lucifer heeds the unsaid words in that stuttered breath, in the look Alastor now gives him as weightlessness seizes him once more while he's moved.
He's being fucked with a much greater care than when he was pressed against his cock. It's slow and deep as opposed to fast and desperate. There's no more reason for Lucifer to beg, he has him entirely.
He can feel every inch of him. A solid warmth that presses and presses. It ruts against organs he no longer has squeezing in how much it fills. Pleasure rolls through him, painful in its constant barrage. His mouth is open in silent moans that he doesn't have the air to expel.
Lucifer does so freely, moans tumbling from his lips like that is what he needs to survive as opposed to the air used to create them. Alastor watches transfixed as his body fluctuates around the intrusion. It is no longer skin, it cannot stretch as such. It stays engorged, open but no less full. The tented quality of his body merely lessens when he's pulled partway off of Lucifer.
The tented protrusion is less pronounced, the driving force behind it having fallen back. Wet noises abound as the stale cum from the clones coats them both. It's gotten all over Lucifer's cock, a glimmering sheen of off-white. It remains all over him too. It's started to crust on his body, turning yellow and hard.
He can feel it doing so. Can see it crack as Lucifer adjusts his grip on him, when his cock is forced back into the divot he created. But where they're joined, Lucifer's flesh and his softened plastic hole, it is still warm. It was kept warm inside of him so it coats him now in its original state. In the bits of it that leak out the sides and splatters around his hole.
"So tight Alastor," Lucifer moans. "Driving me crazy."
The sights, the sounds and the smell of stale cum and sweat does him in. With a slow unfurling Alastor cums. He has no dick or pussy to expel a viscous liquid but he feels like he has. That something inside of him is broken and expelled. His vision blurs and he thinks he must be shaking apart. Phantom muscles push down on and around Lucifer, but nothing actually changes. It continues as it has.
Lucifer continues to push into him. Heedless, or all too aware of Alastor's orgasm.
"Ah- Luci- Lucifer," he moans because he can only last for so long with every deliberate drag into him. It is overwhelming and he grows weary.
Alastor feels it before Lucifer does. The protruding mound on this body minutely shifting as his cock twitches. Lucifer moans a sigh, one colored with relief as he spills into him. That has Alastor sent over the edge once more.
He gasps and cannot draw another breath in as he's filled once more. With how deep Lucifer is burried, and how he was already filled before, it is a violent display. Cum new and old bursts from the sides of him as the new surge of it travels through his hollowed abdomine.
The hot ropes shoot inside of him and he can feel them reaching. They try to go further than this body can provide, hitting his chest cavity where it's forced to assimilate into the mass already there. He can hear himself whimper a truly broken sound before Lucifer extracts himself.
Lucifer cradles him gently even as he himself pants, spent just as he is. His thumb glides along the ridge, the protrusion now filled by his cum mostly new, but some of it old. The touch is light and gentle, a pleasent buzz left in its wake.
The last thing he sees is Lucifer's satiated smiling face, as gentle as his touch before he passes out.
_________
Much later, once Alastor has been transformed back into his regular self and the destroyed doll has been placed on a shelf of honor, Lucifer shifts behind him. The arm wrapped around his midsection lightly tickles his stomach, patting the warm soft flesh.
“So?” He asks.
Alastor nearly sighs. He knows what this is about but he must admit, this was a rather pleasant experience in being proved wrong.“….perhaps I judged a little too quickly.”
He ignores the delighted whoop Lucifer gives in answer and snuggles in closer.