Work Text:
Alastor would never say he admired Lucifer's problem solving skills – he often found the king's solution to a problem quite bewildering, in fact, the man taking such a roundabout way to an answer that one almost forgot what he had set out to do in the first place.
But if he couldn't say he admired them, then at least he could say he was fascinated by them.
What other person would devise a seven part plan to stopping the overpopulation of cockroaches in the hotel, one that included setting up a model railway track that ran the entire length of the fourth floor?
The problem Lucifer had set out to solve this time was not, unfortunately, something that would provide Niffty with hours of entertainment (or perhaps it would, but she wasn't going to find out about it). It was quite simple – Alastor had voiced a complaint, and Lucifer was working on a resolution.
Circling back to that unique brand of problem solving – Alastor wasn't quite certain why 'helping him de-stress' involved him having his wrists tied together and strung up to Lucifer's bedhead, but he was interested in seeing how it played out.
“I still don't see as how this is going to help me relax. You've fucked me plenty of times before, and whilst the activity is enjoyable enough, I must remind you that I never seem as capable of misplacing my brain as you often demonstrate yourself to be,” Alastor remarked, watching curiously as Lucifer fixed the end of the rope to a hook he'd summoned just for this purpose.
There was plenty of give in it – if he'd wanted to, Alastor could roll right over onto his stomach, but that would end up with him face first amongst a variety of duck shaped pillows, and though he had expressed a wish to be able to let go and relax, for once – he didn't think suffocation was the right way to go about it.
Death by duck pillow would have been rather an ignominious end for the Radio Demon.
“Rude. I'm trying to help you, here – you don't have to go and call me a moron while I'm doing it,” Lucifer muttered, the forked tips of his tongue protruding over his lower lip as he ensured the knots weren't going to come loose. Alastor tugged his arms, experimenting with the strength of it – and briefly entertained the idea of rolling right off the bed, just to be a nuisance.
The idea of hanging by his arms from something akin to an Angelic fishing line didn't particularly appeal, so Lucifer was spared the task of wrangling him back onto the mattress should he have given into his less sensible urges.
It would have been funny, though.
“Oh, believe me, if I wanted to call you a moron, I would be far more eloquent in doing so. I'm merely stating a fact – when you come, you seem to release your intelligence alongside it. It takes some time for you to regather your wits. I am unfortunately not so blessed – I suppose I simply have too much to think about! There's always a new task, a new scheme, a new plot or a new murder to consider-”
“Which is why I think this will help,” Lucifer interrupted him, unruffled by Alastor's musings. It took an awful lot to get under his skin, these days – he seemed to have come to accept that when it came to bedding the Radio Demon, backtalk was part and parcel of the experience.
A crackle of static hummed around the pair of them – Alastor never had liked being interrupted.
“I still don't see how,” he muttered, ears flicking briefly back against his skull as he wrinkled his nose, ready to dismiss the entire thing as a lost cause. If he had to put up with Lucifer getting an attitude, then he thought he'd rather take the insomnia and headaches his penchant for clenching his jaw when stressed provided.
“You will,” Lucifer promised with a grin, face looming above the demon as the king sat back on his heels. Alastor huffed, unimpressed, jolting slightly when Lucifer ran a finger over his jaw, circling it up to trace over the sharp line of his cheekbone and dragging it back down, pausing at the corner of his mouth.
Alastor narrowed his eyes, clicking his teeth together in silent threat, and a glint of amusement twinkled in Lucifer's gaze.
“You remember what to say if you want me to stop, right?” the man went on, uncommonly serious. Alastor rolled his eyes – the idea that any part of this would be something he'd back out of was ludicrous, truly.
“Eden, and I can't think why you picked a word that's so unpleasant for you to hear,” Alastor bit out, not missing the tiny crease that furrowed Lucifer's brow for a fraction of a second before it cleared, the king patting the demon lightly on the cheek as his grin flashed back onto his face.
“Very good,” Lucifer praised, clearly far too comfortable in the role Alastor was allowing him to take. As if he expected a simple phrase of commendation would be enough to reduce the sinner to a writhing mess, willing to do anything it took to receive more of it.
“And that's kind of the point. It's something you'd never say, it makes me completely miserable – so hearing it will be as effective as dipping my balls into a bucket of ice.”
Despite himself, Alastor let out an amused huff at the image, an echo of laughter ringing in the air before he could try and stop it. The king's grin sharpened, a flicker of red in his eyes gone so quickly it might have been nothing more than a reflection of Alastor's hair or shirt.
Something about him changed, imperceptibly – he seemed more confident, his usually open face encroaching on something darker.
Alastor swallowed, his gut tightening at the power he saw there – the side of the Devil so few got to see – and live to speak of ever again. If nothing else, at least Lucifer would probably enjoy himself – and wasn't that the main point of sex, in any case?
“Ready to start?” Lucifer asked, a thread of power winding through his words, lending his voice that darker rumble that made a shiver go down Alastor's spine any time he heard it, his tail fluffing against his waistband at the unmistakably predatory tone there.
Alastor nodded, wondering at the fact Lucifer hadn't bothered to have him shed his coat or shirt before tying him up. Perhaps it was to enhance whatever he had planned – in any case, he always had Angelic magic at his disposal to simply whisk them away, so it probably wasn't that much of a consideration for him.
Lucifer blinked down at him, raising one brow.
“I need words, gorgeous. Tell me what you want,” Lucifer demanded, wrapping his fingers under Alastor's jaw when he tried to roll his eyes and look away. The king's gaze bore into him, stripping him to his core with how piercingly focused it was.
This really was ridiculous. Was this just an ego trip for Lucifer, the whole thing an elaborate ruse to force Alastor to say 'I want you to fuck me'? Because if it was, those words were certainly never leaving his mouth.
Agreeable to the activity he may be, but he did not beg.
“I'm ready to get started,” Alastor confirmed, answering Lucifer's earlier question with a lazy drawl, putting as much disdain into the words as he could. Lucifer sat back, removing his hand from under Alastor's jaw, breaking all contact – which was more than a little confusing.
“Mm. And do you deserve this?” Lucifer asked in a low voice, purple lids hanging heavy over yellow, lamp-like eyes. A furrow lined Alastor's brow, his confusion intensifying.
“I don't see as how any of this relates to what I do or do not deserve. Are you going to get on with things, or not?” he snapped out waspishly, static crackling and popping with the first stirrings of irritation. He didn't know what sort of game Lucifer was playing, but the man hadn't seen fit to explain this part of the rules, and he was rather annoyed he was expected to figure it out for himself.
Lucifer's grin went lopsided, a brief hint of amusement crossing over his face. Then he shrugged, leaning down to press his lips to Alastor's.
Ah – here was something Alastor understood.
Understood and – truth be told – rather enjoyed. Kissing hadn't been something he'd had much cause to explore, before getting involved with the Devil himself, but it was an activity he'd quickly found to his liking.
Soft lips moving against his, a forked tongue pressing against his bottom lip, slipping into his mouth the second he parted his lips even a fraction. Tangling around his own, running up the underside of it in a way that always made him shudder, protesting at the ticklish sensation it evoked.
He went to bury a hand in soft golden hair, tugging at those locks in reprimand – only to feel a warm rush of excitement when he couldn't. His arms were, of course, pinned above his head – wrists tied quite thoroughly together, the silky smooth rope rubbing against his skin as he tugged at it. There was no way for him to direct the kiss, like this, and he realised – properly – for the first time that what happened next was entirely in Lucifer's hands.
A whimper escaped his throat at the knowledge, swallowed up by the man above him, humming an appreciative note in response. All he could do was lay back and let Lucifer's tongue claim every inch of his mouth, his own barely keeping up with it. In his chest, his heart-rate increased, sending his pulse echoing down his limbs – fluttering against the ropes binding his wrists and sending another thrill down his neck at the reminder of his captivity.
Lucifer pulled back, despite a protesting blat of static from the demon, and when Alastor opened his eyes it was to find Lucifer tilting his head down at him, almost appraisingly. When Lucifer saw him watching, he ran that forked tongue over the sharp points of his teeth, a lazy grin turning those swollen lips up at the corners.
“It's gonna take a bit of work to make you fall into line, huh?” Lucifer asked, trailing one hand up Alastor's abdomen, stopping only to undo the buttons holding his coat closed and peeling open the finely tailored item of clothing.
His claws reached Alastor's tie, and he hooked one into the knot, easing it loose before pulling the strip of fabric from his collar.
“Please. As if anything you could do would make me fall into – what are you doing?” Alastor asked, suddenly suspicious as Lucifer stretched Alastor's tie between his hands, glancing from it to the demon's face with a thoughtful expression. He reached forward, gently folding the black fabric over Alastor's eyes, the sinner's breath catching as he felt Lucifer's fingers at the back of his head, nimbly re-knotting the material.
“That's better. Behave, and I'll take it off. You can behave, can't you?” Lucifer prompted, his fingers running through Alastor's hair to rub at the base of one ear, wringing a reluctant whine from his throat at the sensation – the sound quickly turning into a sputtering skitter of feedback as those claws wrapped around one of his antlers and wrenched his head to the side, stretching his throat to the point of discomfort.
Hot breath grazed against the vulnerable skin of his neck, his mind freezing at the sensation.
A deeply buried instinct urged him to stillness, to avoid provoking the predator now pressing sharp teeth against his throat. When he swallowed, he felt his throat swell against the points of those teeth – felt the sharp sting as one of them broke the skin, hot blood trickling down to seep into his collar.
“I asked a question, Alastor. When I ask a question, I expect a response,” Lucifer growled, the demonic undercurrent in his words all the more impactful for the fact Alastor couldn't see his face. Couldn't see if he was genuinely wearing an expression of stern rage, cruel delight – awkward embarrassment at behaving so unlike himself.
Alastor forced himself to concentrate. It was proving somewhat difficult as the contrasting urges within him fought for precedence – the one telling him to struggle, the other telling him to stay still. Heat rushed down his chest as the points of Lucifer's tongue flicked against his neck. Tasting his blood.
Tasting him.
The question of whether he could behave was one that prodded at his pride, threatened to jostle his ego. He wasn't some schoolboy in need of reprimand – he didn't need to behave.
“I'll go along with your suggestions. You are, after all, the self proclaimed expert in these matters,” Alastor muttered, his stomach jolting when Lucifer's teeth and tongue vanished. His ears twisted, following his movements.
“Not really an answer that would pass examination, but we'll revisit it later,” Lucifer promised, pressing the pad of his thumb over Alastor's lips and pressing down. “Open up. Don't you dare fucking bite.”
Oh. That was more than just a hint of a growl, there.
Those words were rough, demanding – enough to send another thrill racing down Alastor's body, nerves chasing themselves over his chest, down his stomach, across his thighs – all pooling low in his gut, his surprise at the fact he was getting hard from this not enough to stop him from sharpening his grin, lips parting and tongue lolling around Lucifer's thumb as he pressed it into the demon's mouth, tugging it to the side and pulling lightly at the edge of his lips.
He kept his teeth parted, even when the man brushed his thumb over the points, rubbing against the inside of his cheek before moving back and pushing his tongue down. The muscle worked around the digit, Alastor's ears perking at the breathy noise Lucifer made in response.
Not as in control as he was pretending, then.
“Good boy,” Lucifer murmured, the demon's ears now twisting back and pressing towards his skull.
He had no need nor desire to be coddled or mocked, condescended to or belittled. All he wanted was for Lucifer to, effectively, fuck his brains out – to give him at least fifteen minutes respite from the effort of being so damn in control of everything all of the time.
A staticky grumble rippled up his throat, and Lucifer let out a chuckle, deliberately pressing the point of his thumb against a tooth and breaking the skin, pushing the cut down onto Alastor's tongue. The blood burst through his senses, his mind going briefly numb as that delectable, sinful flavour melted into his taste buds.
Like apples and sunshine, the minute taste of it he'd been given making him want more.
“Don't bite,” Lucifer reminded him, irritation flickering through the sinner as he wrapped his tongue around the other man's thumb, lips closing over the digit as he tried to suck as much of that blood as possible before the wound sealed shut.
He grazed the skin with one of his top teeth, smug satisfaction flaring in him when a fresh spurt of blood coated the roof of his mouth. If he wasn't blindfolded, he knew his vision would be swimming.
“You little shit,” Lucifer growled, his other hand circling under Alastor's jaw and squeezing against the back of it, forcing his mouth open as the other man removed his thumb. Under his belt, Alastor's tail wagged, the pleasant buzz of that Angelic blood already starting to fade.
“I told you to behave,” the king added, popping open the buttons of Alastor's shirt one by one, the cooler air of the room a relief to his flushed skin. A shiver went through him as Lucifer's breath ghosted over a bead of sweat near one of his nipples, the movement the only thing telling him where the king might be.
“No, you didn't,” Alastor drawled. Rather patiently, he thought, considering the way his stomach twisted, his torso turning without his permission. Trying to angle himself so Lucifer's mouth would make contact, and wasn't that just humiliating? This was supposed to be about his pleasure, about helping him – and he had to ask?
“You asked if I can behave. There's a difference.”
The silence from above him had his grin stretching, Lucifer clearly running over his exact wording.
Technically, he had told the demon to behave – whether he remembered that fact, or took Alastor's confident claim at face value remained to be seen.
“Well, you're not. So I think I need to demonstrate who's in charge here, don't I? Let's see how much of that attitude is left after we get rid of all this,” Lucifer murmured. Alastor heard him click his fingers – then felt the silken sheets of Lucifer's bedclothes against his bare back and rear, all along the underside of his legs.
He felt suddenly off balance – painfully aware that he couldn't see the king, nor could he move his arms. Still tied above his head, his naked form laid out for Lucifer to gawk at – and he couldn't even see how the other man was reacting. He liked seeing that hunger in his eyes when he looked at the sinner, liked the way he reacted to the presentation that was Alastor's body.
Unbidden, his legs drew together, knees folding towards his chest. Trying to offer himself a modicum of decency.
“Uh-uh, nope,” Lucifer denied him, hands pressing into his legs and forcing them back down. All that hidden strength, pushing Alastor around as if he were really as frail as he looked. His heart turned over at the reminder, stomach fluttering at the idea that Lucifer was looking at him.
He shuddered as Lucifer moved, too quick to be natural. Breath ghosting over his ear and ruffling soft fur and crimson hair alike, his voice nothing more than a low murmur.
“Do you know what happens if you can't behave?”
Alastor didn't know. But he was terribly interested in finding out.
So far, this entire experience hadn't exactly been as mind-blowing as Lucifer had promised – but at least it was interesting. And he would most certainly be teasing the king about this shift in his personality later, when he was back to his regular, awkward self – the blush that would creep over his cheeks would be a delight to behold.
Hands on his hips had him letting out a squeak of surprise as Lucifer turned him over, his face getting buried in the mound of soft pillows. The king reached up and curled his claws into Alastor's hair, yanking his head back – the tug sent a flurry of pleasure-pain racing down his neck, the ghostly touch of nerves firing under his skin making him shiver.
This must be why Lucifer had insisted on a single rope, so he was able to turn Alastor around like a piece of meat on its hook.
Lucifer dropped his head, making sure his face ended up between two pillows. Breathing in stuffy, closed air – but breathing nonetheless. How considerate of him.
Alastor's mind snapped back to the present situation as he heard Lucifer click his fingers once more, felt the mattress dip at his side. A hand traced gently over the slight curves of his rear, and his tail flashed straight up, showing off its white underside for the benefit of a herd that didn't exist.
Danger, it screamed, as if Alastor hadn't already known he was in the bed of the most dangerous man in Hell. That was largely the point.
“Let's start with ten, and then we'll see if your attitude has improved,” Lucifer muttered, his words nonsensical.
Ten what?
Alastor's stomach lurched as Lucifer's hand vanished from his rear, replaced with something flat and hard. It tapped against his cheeks a few times, and then-
“Fuck!” he couldn't stop himself from gasping out, as much from shock as from pain, as Lucifer struck him with whatever he'd summoned. It cracked against the sparse flesh of his backside, a stinging sort of discomfort that made him want to instinctively wriggle away.
“Start counting, gorgeous,” Lucifer said calmly, his voice giving absolutely no hint of how he felt about this entire thing.
Uncertainty flickered through the demon, finally taking the time to wonder just what it was that he'd agreed to. He hadn't really asked too many questions, happy to let Lucifer do the planning and thinking.
After all – this was about taking that chore away from him, was it not?
“Wait-”
Crack.
A record scratch jumped into the air as Lucifer struck his other cheek, his breath speeding up. A bevy of confusing, conflicting emotions welled in his chest – he was no stranger to pain, enjoyed it more than he probably should – but as Lucifer raised that object and struck him for a third time, some long buried instinct started to rear its ugly head.
“I'm not hearing any numbers, Alastor. If you don't start counting, we're not even going to get to one,” Lucifer murmured, Alastor's mind spinning as he tried to make sense of that statement.
Lucifer had already hit him twice, now. What did he mean they wouldn't even get to one?
He was reminded of his youth, of being put over a knee and spanked for his misbehaviour, squirming and begging to be let go, promising that he'd do better, that he would behave, they'd see-
Crack.
“Three!” Alastor blurted, latching onto what Lucifer had ordered from him. There was a silence from above him, and he tried to slow his breathing, so he could hear where Lucifer had moved to.
“Nice try, gorgeous. But you need to start at one,” Lucifer said, a hand patting gently at the already sore skin of his rear making him jolt.
Alastor whimpered, shaking his head. He'd already had three. Was that not enough?
Crack.
“O-one,” Alastor panted, heat rushing over his skin, throbbing where it danced over his ass. The air between those pillows was getting increasingly stuffy, and he sighed in relief when one of them was suddenly pulled away.
“Good. Remember, we've gotta get to ten,” Lucifer praised, Alastor's tail giving a halfhearted wiggle above his rear. He nodded, certain he could do it. Wanting to prove that he could.
Those strikes came at even intervals, Alastor panting into the sheets below his face. He was mumbling out vague assurances between the counts, promises that he'd behave, he could – but Lucifer didn't seem to hear anything but the numbers. Kept up those strikes until Alastor's skin felt like it was on fire, sweat trickling down his spine as he automatically tried to twist away, only to be held in place by one firm hand on his thighs.
Something in his mind was shifting, swirling into nothing more than a desire to have those strikes stop. He could always use the word Lucifer had given him, but for some reason – he didn't want to do that.
It didn't make any sense, but he liked this feeling of helplessness welling up within him – of trying to prove that he could have Lucifer stop without having to resort to that. His thoughts whirled, mind hazy, the only thing he was able to focus on the steady count of those numbers, one to ten, creeping ever closer to the goal Lucifer had set.
He could hardly hear himself over the buzz of his static, the whine of feedback in the air. Tried to concentrate, forcing his ears to twist back as he jerked once more at another strike.
That jerk made him realise that he was so hard it ached, hips lurching into the mattress with every movement.
Oh.
Oh – perhaps he'd dismissed this idea too easily. Perhaps Lucifer really did know what he was talking about.
“Ten,” Alastor mumbled, his heart soaring. He'd done it, he'd endured all ten hits without asking Lucifer to stop.
“Good job.”
The pride, the approval in Lucifer's voice – he hadn't expected this, but Alastor was absolutely elated. He had done a good job, hadn't he?
Had impressed Lucifer with how well he'd taken that penalty for his misbehaviour, and there was a part of him that wondered whether, if he acted out now – would he get to endure more of it?
He thought he might want to. Insofar as he thought anything at all, parts of his mind switching off as nerves flared up over his backside, the heat from those strikes leeching out over his thighs and his back, tail still standing bolt upright.
“Alright. I'll ask again – can you behave?” Lucifer asked, a hint of a growl in his voice that had Alastor nodding before he could even think of doing anything else. Hands circled around his waist again, and he let out a whine as the abused skin of his rear met the sheets, sore nerves protesting at the contact. His ears sagged low to either side of his head, and he was curious about whether Lucifer might take the blindfold off, now.
Hadn't he done a good job?
“Tell me, Alastor. Can you behave?” Lucifer asked again, his voice an odd mix of gentle and firm, the communication of a man who knew what he was doing and why, who was in a situation he wanted and who wanted nothing more than to be here. In control.
Taking charge.
“Yes,” Alastor stuttered out, his voice rough with feedback. His throat felt raw, and he realised he'd been sucking air in through his clenched teeth that entire time, burning gasps that set his lungs aflame.
“Yes, what?” Lucifer pressed, moving so close Alastor could feel his breath ghosting over his lips. He trembled, the urge to press up, to demand Lucifer meet his mouth – he pushed it back.
That wouldn't be following instructions, and he could follow instructions.
“Yes, sire,” he mumbled out, his tongue feeling suddenly thick against his teeth. Lucifer rubbed a hand against an ear, and Alastor leaned into the touch with a sigh, opening his mouth willingly when Lucifer's lips pressed against his, keening out his need.
“Good. Make sure you remember that, because I can always deliver ten more,” Lucifer muttered against his lips, something jolting in Alastor's chest at the idea. Yes – no. Yes.
He wanted and he didn't want and he didn't know what he wanted, except to hear that purr of pride in the king's voice again, pride for him, for how well he was performing.
Alastor nodded vaguely, not daring to ask about the blindfold. That wasn't his call to make, and he tipped his head back as Lucifer nipped at his jaw, exposing the tender flesh of his throat. Like a prey animal baring its stomach in submission, only his stomach was already bare.
He felt Lucifer chuckle against his skin, and his tail wagged. Lucifer was pleased with that. He was doing a good job, he was behaving.
He wanted to behave.
A needy, breathless sound escaped him when Lucifer's tongue dipped against his collarbone, the man tracing the claws of one hand up and over Alastor's ribs. Dancing over the protrusions, playing his bones like some kind of obscene instrument. Alastor let out a whimper as those fingers circled over his chest, taunting him.
His cock ached against his belly, leaking fluid and smearing it over the soft fur that passed for his pubic hair. Throbbing, demanding – but he had to wait. Had to wait until Lucifer decided what to do with him.
“Seems like you're doing great. Think this is working, Alastor? Hey, gorgeous? Look at you, panting like that. You're so needy, aren't you? You just want to let somebody else take control for a bit, not have to think about anything. Isn't that right?” Lucifer muttered, his claws skating over Alastor's pectoral and pausing to pinch at his nipple, wringing a squeak from him as his chest arched up into the touch.
It was. It was right.
He was needy, he did want Lucifer to take control. Everything Lucifer said was correct.
“You're my good boy, aren't you? So good for me. Can you open up your mouth? Do you think you can suck my cock without biting?” Lucifer crooned, and if Alastor had maintained a hold on even a single one of his wits, he would have been embarrassed at the speed with which he nodded, tongue lolling past his teeth as his mouth fell open.
Of course, all of his wits seemed to have left the building. Packed up their bags and called in their vacation days all at once, leaving him with nothing but the soft buzz of static between his ears, Lucifer's voice winding in and out of his consciousness like a song.
Lucifer shifted, swinging one leg over Alastor's chest until his knees pressed up against his underarms, and Alastor heard his fingers snap again. His tail wiggled hopefully.
The familiar feeling of Lucifer's cock bumping against his lips sent a bolt of pleasure straight to his dick, and he curled his lips over his teeth, straining his neck forward as much as he could while still tied down.
He wanted to prove he could do it. Could be as good as Lucifer told him he was.
His tongue wrapped around Lucifer's shaft, prehensile in a way that a human tongue could never be, and delight filled him at the sound of the king's soft groan, more of his cock pushing into the demon's mouth. He took him in with shameless greed, tongue lapping over his slit and tasting the evidence of how aroused he was.
Aroused because of Alastor.
A staticky moan crept up from his chest, vibrating around Lucifer's dick. The king cursed, and Alastor almost choked as his hips snapped forward, the tip of his cock pushing aggressively against the back of his throat.
But he could do it – he knew he could. Prove how good he was at this, swallowing around the head of Lucifer's dick and lashing his tongue over the length of it, shuddering as it slid into his throat. His muscles worked around it, and every time he swallowed he heard Lucifer's breath catch.
He couldn't move his head, much. Not with his arms pulled taut above it, so he could do nothing but accept when Lucifer pulled back and thrust forward, fucking into his mouth as if that's what it was designed for. He let out a rumble of appreciation, saliva spilling past his lips and down his chin, as Lucifer rocked into him.
“Good, so good,” Lucifer breathed, sounding a little desperate himself. “So beautiful, your lips around my cock. Doing such a good job.”
Alastor preened, his lips stretching into as much of a grin as was possible, with Lucifer's cock stuffed into his mouth. He was doing a good job.
He lurched forward in alarm as Lucifer pulled out, wondering where he was going. Wasn't Alastor doing this well? Wasn't he sucking his cock so nicely?
“Do you – hnf – do you wanna see what you've done to me?” Lucifer asked, his weight settling onto Alastor's chest. Alastor's heart leapt, a sense of bliss rushing through him as he nodded.
“Yes, sire,” he rasped, his voice scratchy and used, so deliciously used, throat still working past the feeling of having Lucifer's dick pushed so far into it.
He could hardly remember how they'd gotten here. Right now the only thing that seemed important was coaxing more of those sweet affirmations from Lucifer, confirmations that the king was pleased with how Alastor was doing. He blinked as the darkness over his eyes vanished, the room blurry and hard to focus on.
Then his gaze slid down, and he drank up the sight of Lucifer kneeling above him, his hair falling around his face, cheeks stained gold under those delightful red circles. Yellow eyes heavily lidded and focused on him with such intensity that Alastor suddenly wished the blindfold was back, because he didn't know if he could bear to see it.
“Thank you,” he uttered, because it seemed like the right thing to say. A flash of Lucifer's eyes told him it was, and he licked his lips, wondering if he might coax the other man into letting him keep sucking him off.
Lucifer's face morphed into a grin, sharp teeth gleaming. He ran a hand through Alastor's hair, pushing sweaty bangs away from his eyes, and Alastor gazed up at him through the haze that seemed to have settled over his vision, waiting for Lucifer to tell him what he wanted.
“Should I fuck you, Alastor? Do you think you've earned that?” Lucifer asked, dragging his claw down Alastor's cheek and tracing it over his jaw, leaving a line of tingling skin in his wake.
“Yes,” Alastor answered back without hesitiation, a rush of excitement going through him. Lucifer liked fucking him, and he could make it good for him. Could be hot, and tight, and everything the king had always told him he was in the past.
“Use me. Please.”
Lucifer's eyes widened a fraction at that, at Alastor's breathless request. A flicker of surprise went over his features, and panic flooded Alastor's mind.
The blood pounding through his veins started thrumming in his ears, a steady pulse that threatened to deafen him as an icy hand suddenly wrapped around his lungs. Lucifer was surprised.
He hadn't liked that, hadn't liked what Alastor had asked, why not? What had he said wrong? Hadn't he already shown him how well he could behave?
He could show him again. Wriggled underneath Lucifer's body as he tried to turn over, desperate to present the reddened skin of his ass to the man as physical proof of just how good he'd been, just in case Lucifer had forgotten. He could take ten more hits, he could, make up for speaking out of turn, for asking for too much-
“Please, sire. I can be good for you, I can. Let me show you, let me prove it-”
“Shh, I know you can, gorgeous,” Lucifer hushed, his voice a soothing rumble that cut straight through Alastor's desperate pleas. Calming the racing of his heart with a soft stroke over his ears, ducking down to press a kiss against Alastor's forehead as his eyes fluttered closed, relief sinking into him that Lucifer wasn't upset.
He hadn't displeased him.
Once he was sure Alastor had calmed down, Lucifer shuffled back, hitching his legs up over Alastor's thighs, and the sinner spread his legs wide, wincing at the burning sting of his rear as the movement set his skin pulsing, reminding him of the heat branded against him.
He whined, a staticky mess of radio interference, every inch of him trembling. Lucifer made a vaguely soothing sound as he stroked his hands up Alastor's sides, cool palms like a balm to the heat flooding through him.
“Oh, you're really in it, aren't you? Never given up control like this before, have you? You're doing great,” Lucifer assured him in a mumble, stooping down to pepper kisses along the centre of his chest, trailing them down and tracing over the patterns of scars with his tongue.
Doing great.
The words echoed around in Alastor's skull, the reassurance like a verbal weighted blanket. Lucifer was pleased with him. He whimpered as one of Lucifer's hands slid down his legs, pushing his thighs up, and Alastor pulled his knees towards his arms, making a silent offering of himself as he stared with glazed vision at the king. Pupils blown wide and his ears hanging low, the sore skin of his ass feeling some small measure of relief as the movement tilted his hips up, cooler air fluttering over his flesh.
“I'm impressed, how quickly you've gotten here,” Lucifer kept up a steady stream of gentle, reassuring words as he summoned a tube of lubricant to his hand, popping open the cap and squeezing it onto his fingers.
Impressed.
“How's that mind of yours doing? Switched off, now?” he asked as he circled one finger around Alastor's hole, the cool slip of lube a stark contrast to how hot everything else felt, right now. Alastor nodded – and then, feeling it wasn't enough, hastened to confirm.
“Yes, sire.”
Lucifer's smile quirked higher on one side, and he leant forward to seize Alastor's lips in a kiss as he slipped his finger inside the demon, Alastor's spine creaking as Lucifer's weight threatened to fold him in half. He returned the kiss hungrily, tongue and teeth getting a little out of hand as he tried to keep Lucifer from pulling back, tried to nip at his lip and immediately froze, ears lowering in silent apology.
Lucifer pulled back, one brow raised as he worked that finger into Alastor's hole, not stopping for a moment. Quick little pants escaped the sinner, his hips rolling against Lucifer's hand to encourage him.
“What did I say about biting?” Lucifer asked, forked tongue flicking pointedly over his lip where Alastor's tooth had nicked it, the cut already healing.
A thrill raced down Alastor's spine. He'd gone against Lucifer's directions, but the man was still stretching him, adding a second finger to the first, the tantalising burn as his hole relaxed around the motion making his chest heave.
“Aren't you a good boy? Don't you want to be?”
Alastor did – and he didn't. Was curious as to what Lucifer might do, because it was clear by now that he was still intent on fucking him, which was exactly what Alastor wanted. Wanted Lucifer to take his pleasure, use Alastor to get himself there, wanted to hear his name spill from the fallen angel's lips-
“Alright. Not answering means the blindfold is going back on,” Lucifer muttered, snapping the fingers of his free hand and once more plunging Alastor into darkness.
He whimpered, the loss of his sight suddenly making everything else that much more intense. He couldn't see Lucifer, but he could feel him – fucking those fingers into him, the pull of them against his rim making him groan, breath coming in fits and starts. He could hear the other man, hear the way his own breathing was interspersed with the occasional soft noise.
He could smell him – the heady apple sweetness he somehow always carried with him, so faint that anyone who didn't get this close probably wouldn't even know about it. Smell the salt of their sweat, their efforts making their skin shine. Against the bed, his tail wiggled as much as it could, utterly trapped.
“No biting,” Alastor finally gasped out, his legs starting to burn from being pressed so far. Even his flexibility had limits, and Lucifer was pushing them.
“Good,” Lucifer muttered, his voice low, that demonic rumble echoing through it. Alastor shuddered, filing away the praise and tucking it alongside the other words Lucifer had heaped on him, this evening. If Lucifer kept going like this, he thought he might actually melt – disappear into the sea of want that Lucifer was drowning him in, never to be seen again.
“Fuck me?” Alastor asked through his gasps, his cock still aching between his legs. A flurry of pleasure ran down his thighs and made him twitch when Lucifer withdrew his fingers, sitting back and letting Alastor's legs rise up from the bed just slightly, easing that muscle strain.
His cock snubbed up against Alastor's hole, and the demon tried to push down on it, foiled by the tightness of the rope around his wrists and by one of Lucifer's hands holding a thigh in place. He whined, desperate and aching and needy, so ready to show Lucifer how good he was that his eyes watered, dampening the blindfold over the top of them.
“Please?” he added in a whisper, worried now that his earlier disobedience had resulted in Lucifer not wanting to – or withholding from doing so as a penalty.
“That's it, gorgeous. Asking so nicely,” Lucifer breathed out, another spike of delight going through Alastor at his approval. Nothing compared to the delight when Lucifer pushed forward, his cock breaching that tight ring of muscle as Alastor's arms twitched in their bonds, shoulders aching and his head tipping back as his back arched into the feeling.
“Good? Is it good?” he asked mindlessly, sinking into the feeling of being so stretched and full, hoping it was satisfying enough for the king.
“So good,” Lucifer groaned out, hips rocking forward and settling his cock inside the demon up to the base, the feeling of his thighs against Alastor's cheeks making a flare of discomfort rush through him, the skin still red and sore. Pride raced up his spine and burst in his mind, satisfaction at dragging those noises from the King of Hell.
“You want to get used? You want me to tell – ha – tell you how good your... how good you feel, clenching around my cock like that?” Lucifer stuttered out, mattress dipping at Alastor's sides where his hands came to rest, supporting him.
Alastor's legs hung in the air, the feeling of vulnerability washing over him at the same time he packaged up his trust and handed it over to Lucifer for safekeeping, his words thick and slightly slurred.
“Tell me,” he asked in a daze, every movement of Lucifer's hips rocking his body against the bed, bouncing his hooves above them. Slow, measured thrusts, the slick glide of the other man's cock filling him so thoroughly as Lucifer's breathing turned ragged.
“You're gorgeous – hot and tight, you – ng – your sounds, fuck-” Lucifer gasped, groaning as his hips sped up, seeming as if he had to force them back into a consistent rhythm. Alastor was burning up, his cock leaking against his stomach, and his back cracked as he let out a filter heavy cry when Lucifer fucked into his sweet spot, a bolt of lightning turning his already dazed brain into complete mush.
“Am I good? Ah – please...!” he choked out, screeching static echoing in a shrill whine around the pair of them. He didn't even know what he was asking for, only that he needed to ask nicely.
“So good, Alastor. Such a good boy for me, taking my cock so well. Behaving p-perfectly, like a gorgeous, demonic fuck toy.”
Lucifer's words sent another flurry of pleasure over his skin, Alastor's heart racing as he let out another breathless moan. Lucifer's fuck toy, yes, that's what he was – letting the King of Hell use him, so good at it-
The head of Lucifer's cock thrust into that spot again – so close, he was so close to the edge, Lucifer was going to send him over it – and he cried out as Lucifer wrapped one hand under his rear, squeezing, torturing his already abused skin. Pain and pleasure and pain flared over his ass, like somebody had held a match to his flesh.
Stars burst in the blackness of Alastor's vision, his dick pulsing as he fell apart, tumbling into the abyss and so disconnected from reality that he almost choked, claws clenching at air as he tried to catch himself.
Drowning, lost as Lucifer cursed, increasing the speed of his thrusts. Panting, rocking into Alastor for a few moments more before before his hips jolted forward and Alastor felt the hot pulse of come filling him, a tenuous link back to himself.
Sweating, gasping in as much air as he could, he felt adrift.
Not lost in the sea of Lucifer's pleasure, but floating on a delicate raft, far away from anything and everything else that mattered. Static buzzed between his ears, the slow drone of a hundred worker bees filling their quota.
Lucifer pulled out, slowly, easing Alastor's legs down. He let out a staticky crackle of protest as his cheeks met the bed again, and Lucifer paused. A moment later the blindfold over his eyes vanished, as did the rope around his wrists and the cooling come dripping down the cleft of his ass.
He blinked up at the canopy of Lucifer's bed, trying to count the lights strung between his bedposts. They were like the fireflies of his bayou, drifting in and out of focus.
“I'm gonna turn you over, okay?” Lucifer asked softly. Alastor didn't respond, a shudder going down his frame as his heartbeat started to slow, adrenaline leaving his body and letting his blood finally cool.
“Hey, I still need words, gorgeous. Can I turn you over?” Lucifer asked again, confusion managing to creep into Alastor's mind, settling in amongst the vague hum.
“Yes?” he tried, wondering if perhaps Lucifer wanted to go another round. He could, if he wanted to. Alastor didn't mind – not really. His body was meant to please Lucifer, and he'd done such a good job of it – if the man wanted to fuck him again, he would consider it proof of how well he'd done.
Lucifer placed gentle hands on his hips, his own breathing still heavier than normal, and rolled Alastor onto his front. He pulled his arms down to bury his claws in the sheets, fingers cool against his cheek. Tingling as blood-flow returned to them. He burrowed into the pillows, tucking his knees into the bed to press his rear up, tail waving lazily in the air.
One ear twitched as he heard a soft huff of laughter.
“No, Alastor. I'm not fucking you again. Not right now,” Lucifer murmured, sparking a kernel of worry in the back of his mind. His stomach sank, ears pressed flat against his skull as he twisted his head to peer at Lucifer with one heavily lidded eye.
“W-why not? I was good, wasn't I? Why don't you want-”
Lucifer hushed him, yellow eyes widening slightly as he put a hand to Alastor's back, rubbing over sweaty skin.
“Hey, hey. You were good. You were so good for me, Alastor. But I don't want to have sex again right now, and that's nothing to do with how good you were. Let me keep taking care of you, alright?” Lucifer asked softly, his voice having been cleared of any demonic edge.
Alastor looked at him a moment more, warmth curling around the centre of his chest. Flushed, a little sweaty – a few golden strands of hair sticking to Lucifer's neck, lips pink and swollen. The light reflecting off his alabaster skin made it look like he was glowing, the picture of Heavenly grace, and Alastor was terribly pleased to have made a being of such power so satisfied.
“Alright,” he agreed, a squeak escaping him when Lucifer gently swept a hand down over his red cheeks, almost jerking away – pausing when he felt the skin go numb and cool. He sighed.
And shivered again as his sweat slicked skin started to cool, limbs trembling as his hips sagged back down. A foreign emotion crept into his mind, static crackling and popping and-
“I'm here, I've got you,” Lucifer murmured, suddenly at his side, pulling Alastor's head onto his chest and stroking his claws down quivering, pinned ears as he lay back against the pillows. A blanket appeared around Alastor's shoulders, and Lucifer tucked it in tight.
No longer floating on that raft all alone – Lucifer was here with him. Just the two of them in a vast ocean, with not a worldly concern between them.
Alastor's tail wagged slightly against his back, utterly exhausted, and he hooked a leg over Lucifer's, wrapping an arm around his waist.
“You should have something to eat,” Lucifer said quietly against his ears, claws still dragging through the soft fur. Alastor made a noncommittal noise, not feeling particularly inclined to move, his cooling body leeching all the warmth it could take from Lucifer beneath him. It didn't stop him from shivering again.
Lucifer felt it, his hand stilling on Alastor's head.
“Will you eat something, for me? Do you still feel like being my good boy?” he asked, Alastor's heart turning over at the phrasing, a niggling, prickling awareness of the ridiculousness of it scratching at the back of his mind, as of a cat begging to be let in.
Like the neglectful carer he was, he refused to acknowledge it.
“I can,” Alastor mumbled, words still a little thick, radio filter soaring over a few different cadences before his familiar static crackle settled over his voice. Why Lucifer was so insistent, he didn't know – it wasn't as if he was particularly hungry.
Still, when Lucifer summoned a plate of dark chocolate coated knuckle bones and pressed one to his lips, he opened his mouth as obediently as he'd opened it to accept the other man's cock, content to let Lucifer decide what he needed right now.
At some point, he'd need to find his wits – cut their vacation days short, stuff his brain back into his head through his sagging ears – but for now, all that seemed important was the cocoon of warmth, wrapped in this blanket with Lucifer, chocolate melting on his tongue and his mind utterly, blissfully – blank.
~fin~