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Alastor didn't know how he let himself be talked into these things.
Truly, the devil must have a silver tongue of persuasion – how else could one explain how he'd managed to convince the Radio Demon; feared Overlord, serial killer and cannibal – to allow himself to be tied nude to their bed, spread to the world (not quite, but spread to Lucifer's rooms), like a chicken ready to be stuffed?
He felt utterly ridiculous.
And humiliatingly aroused.
Oh yes – despite his protests, despite his condescension when Lucifer had suggested this little adventure in spicing up their sex life – Alastor's heart fluttered behind his ribs, beating against the cage of them like a trapped bird as heat prickled through his veins and his tail stood to attention, waving its white flag of surrender before they'd even gotten started.
His cheek rested against the soft silk that was Lucifer's bedding of choice, his arms stretched out to either side of his torso. Like some kind of debauched version of the crucifixion – if one replaced the cross with a soft mattress and the nails with fine rope. Alastor wondered vaguely if the thought was approaching blasphemy – and abruptly decided that if he was going to blaspheme, the Devil's bedroom seemed a most fitting place to do so.
Rope was bound around his left knee, his leg pulled up towards his own side – even as a binding around his opposite ankle kept that leg straight, a mockery of the casualness adopted whilst sleeping. Alastor's cheeks burned, and he shifted uncomfortably against the rounded toys strapped to his chest, each one sitting dormant against a nipple. Even now, a thrill raced down his spine, nerves firing up his thighs as his stomach twisted.
He knew what sweet torment those toys could bring once Lucifer set them going.
And that was to say nothing of the third bullet shaped toy trapped under his pelvis, held in place by a lacy garment of Lucifer's own creation. It, too, pressed motionless against him, the faint pressure against his clit offering the promise of forthcoming torture. Heat curled up his inner thighs, clit pulsing in time with his heart-beat as his blood warmed, wondering when Lucifer planned to get on with things.
He liked to step out after setting things up. This certainly wasn't the first time they'd experimented with ropes, but it was the first time Alastor had allowed those ropes to be tied around his legs – and not only his wrists – or allowed himself to be tied face-down. His tail tail twitched again as he imagined what a delightfully degenerate picture he must make, and a soft whine crept from his throat.
What was taking so long? Unless Lucifer was busy taking care of himself – jerking off before they got going, so he wasn't at risk of ending this little game earlier than he planned. A blat of amused static escaped Alastor at the thought. He shifted his hips, breath catching when that toy pressed just a little more firmly against his clit, every inch of skin starting to throb with heat.
He'd never much cared for sex. But there was something undeniably thrilling about being the centrepiece; the star attraction, as it were, the sight of his body able to coax the King of Hell into dropping to his knees – to whisper filthy words against his cunt, a prayer that Alastor couldn't hear and his pussy couldn't answer.
The click of the bathroom door had his ears twisting, straining to pick up the faint tread of Lucifer's hooves as they stepped from tile to rug. It wasn't even as if he was trying to be quiet – but he carried with him the Angelic Grace of his creation, tarnished as it was – and it often served to give him an otherworldly elegance, one that Alastor had been reluctantly drawn to from the moment he'd laid eyes on the infuriating man.
A full body shiver went down his frame, his skin twitching as he felt the weight of Lucifer's gaze land on him. Automatically, his tail pressed down – fur fluffing out over the cleft of his ass, trying to cover his cunt as an intoxicating mixture of embarrassment and pride fought for dominance in the space behind his ribs. Lucifer hadn't stepped into view, yet, and Alastor felt terribly exposed, sprawled as he was.
“Mm, nope. Tail up, gorgeous. You know that by now,” Lucifer chided softly, the faintest hint of disapproval in his voice. Alastor clenched his teeth, a spark of rebellion flickering in his chest as his eyes narrowed.
The glare he shot the duck-shaped clock on the wall was absolutely withering.
When Alastor didn't listen – didn't immediately follow that instruction and lift his tail to expose himself further – Lucifer huffed a low chuckle, the sound sending a lightning-sharp thread of excitement racing up Alastor's back from ass to antlers. A moment later, he sucked in a surprised gasp of air as the bullets against his nipples and clit started vibrating. Gently – for now. Nothing that would push him to the point of overwhelm, because that wouldn't be any fun for either of them.
And this was going to be fun. Alastor could already sense it.
Faint spiderwebs of sensation spread under his skin, nerves lighting up almost languidly – like the feeling of a blood pressure monitor on one's arm, tightening and squeezing, but the feeling predictable and familiar enough that it didn't shock.
His stomach tightened, a whimper creeping unbidden from between his lips as he tried to shift his pelvis up, to move his clit off the toy buzzing oh-so delicately against it – but of course it was pointless. Lucifer had made it so, and even though Alastor could lift his hips the barest amount, the vibrator came with him, ruthless in its determination to set his cunt aflame as an insistent throb started up between his legs. His nipples tingled, the vibrations against them tantalisingly similar to the feeling of being pinched, and Alastor felt the bed dip as Lucifer climbed onto the end of it.
Though Lucifer didn't tend to run hot, Alastor couldn't ignore the heat coming off the other man's body as he stalked up the bed, settling himself between Alastor's legs and pressing his hands into the mattress at his sides. Something bumped against Alastor's tail, wrenching a bleat from his throat as his ears sank low, and he could just barely make out the shadow Lucifer cast from the corner of his eye as the king hovered over his back.
Alastor panted, the electric shock that had resulted from having his tail bumped still zinging up his spine, his hips sagging to the bed and dragging a low groan from his chest as the motion just pushed the vibrator more firmly against his clit. He rocked his hips, once – and stilled when a set of sharp teeth pressed against the back of his neck, Lucifer's breath ghosting up his nape and setting the fine hairs there to stand on end.
“Uh uh. You don't move until I tell you to. Hold still,” Lucifer murmured, the forked tips of his tongue flicking out to lap at the sweat Alastor could feel beading on his neck. He jolted again, arousal curling down his chest to coil in a hot glut at the pit of his stomach. His shoulders trembled, and Alastor consciously forced himself to stop tensing them – to stop tugging at the ropes around his wrists, because the effort was only going to pull his arms from their sockets long before he ever managed to get free.
“Bossy, sire. Are you in a particularly demanding mood tonight?” Alastor mumbled back, his filter rough and shot through with heavy feedback. He was acutely aware of the heat pulsing through his cunt, pleasure brushing over his senses like gossamer threads – too fine to grip onto, but each one making his nerves quiver at the stimulation.
“It's not every day I have a tied up, compliant Radio Demon to play with. I want to make sure I make the most of it,” Lucifer answered, pressing a kiss to the topmost knob of Alastor's spine before trailing lower, each press of his lips to the already hot skin of Alastor's back only making it flame more intensely, like the fallen angel was searing him with the remnants of his grace.
Teeth nipped at a particularly sensitive spot over the sides of Alastor's ribs, and he whimpered, spine curving into an arch completely of its own volition – which only wrenched another humiliatingly helpless squeak from his throat when the curve of his back pressed the bullets against his nipples against the mattress, pinching those tender nubs of flesh until it felt like static electricity was dancing under his skin.
“Compliant might be pushing it,” Alastor growled, his teeth gritted against letting any more of those pathetic little sounds escape him. Lucifer chuckled, a flurry of air racing over Alastor's tail as the other man huffed – which only sent another shiver spreading from the base of his spine, curse that damnably sensitive thing.
“I dunno. You seem pretty compliant to me. I've barely even touched you, and I can already smell how turned on you are,” Lucifer muttered against Alastor's hip, the brush of soft lips over the skin of his lower back plucking at delicate nerve endings. His cunt twitched, even as his face reddened further at the reminder.
Yes – alright, he knew he was wet. But did Lucifer really have to go and point it out?
It was indecent.
“Then get on with things and fuck me,” Alastor snarled defiantly, the speed of his breaths increasing in spite of himself at the thought.
There was something delightfully debauched about being tied up – not having to consider his own responses, touching Lucifer in turn. He liked touching the king, of course, being the conductor to all the sweetly blasphemous prayers Lucifer uttered – but there was another part of him that revelled in being used, and rope gave him the perfect opportunity to indulge.
“Now who's being demanding?” Lucifer teased, sitting back and tracing a hand over Alastor's sparse rump. His pussy burned hotter, ready for that touch, aching for it – but Lucifer kept going, skimming over the slight crease where thigh met rear, awakening an entirely new symphony of nerves to start their twitching, uncoordinated dance under Alastor's skin.
He wasn't going to give in and ask. He wasn't.
Claws skimmed up his thigh, coaxing a quiet, staticky sound from his throat when they paused, hovering mere centimetres away from the very place begging for their touch. Alastor kept his hips as still as possible, holding his breath as those vibrations continued to pulse against his clit and nipples, pinching and taunting and trying to drag his wits from him, no matter how tightly he clung onto them.
His tail lifted as if of its own volition, presenting his pussy to Lucifer. Just like the king had demanded, and something behind Alastor's ribs twisted as he thought of the other man looking at him. Gazing down at that glistening slit between his legs, at lips that must surely be flushed and shining with slick, parted slightly by virtue of one of his legs being tied up the way it was.
Vulnerability settled over his mind, ears pinned tightly to his skull as he fought the urge to once again cover himself. To hide the evidence of his own depravity, because Lucifer was right – he hadn't even touched Alastor yet, and he was already this worked up. Over a few ropes and toys.
How pitiful.
“Perfect. Thank you,” Lucifer murmured, almost reverent in the way he breathed the words.
Warmth curled in Alastor's chest, his ego preening with delight at that simple offer of praise. The tip of his tail quivered, the black tip of it brushing against his back – and he sucked in a harsh gulp of air when the intensity of the vibrations against nipples and clit increased, the buzz winding with the sound of his own hissing static.
A groan crept up his throat; a feedback-filled, desperate kind of noise as fire throbbed between his legs – and he wasn't approaching climax, not yet, it would take more than this to get him there – but the way energy hummed through his veins as he waited for more was intoxicating.
Alastor felt as if he were hyper-aware of every movement Lucifer's claws made – could practically see them in his mind – and he could simply snap his neck and see what Lucifer was doing, but the fact that he could only imagine the expression on the king's face made this all the more thrilling.
His skin prickled as Lucifer skimmed his fingertips over it, tracing the faint scars on Alastor's thighs and lower back – and when his fingers danced back to Alastor's inner thigh, pausing in that same spot, Alastor couldn't stop himself from whimpering and trying to push his hips back. Trying to make Lucifer touch him, because he couldn't stand the ache pounding through his cunt any longer, he needed some relief from it-
Harsh microphone feedback leapt into the air, clattering from Alastor's throat as his smile twisted and his brows pinched tight. Lucifer had finally – finally – stroked a finger along Alastor's slit, gently parting those folds and dragging the pad of his finger through the slick leaking from his cunt.
It wasn't enough, of course. It was a tease, a new form of torture, and Alastor huffed against the mattress, his own breath dampening his face where it fogged against the sheets, silently hoping Lucifer would do more. His stomach flipped over as the tip of Lucifer's finger pressed at his entrance, no longer knowing if the heat flaming in his face was embarrassment or arousal.
“You are soaked,” Lucifer muttered appreciatively, withdrawing his finger and ignoring the faint squeak of protest Alastor made at the absence, smearing slick over Alastor's thigh as if to prove his point. He swept his finger down – before turning his movement into a sharp right angle, and Alastor choked as Lucifer abruptly dragged his fingertip through Alastor's folds again, returning to his thigh and tracing out two curving lines that didn't quite meet where they'd begun.
Alastor fought past the haze that had settled over his mind, another strangled moan caught in his throat when Lucifer repeated the motion – teasing Alastor's pussy like he was unaware the demon was burning up inside, every muscle in his abdomen pulled taut as those vibrations continued to pinch at his nipples and torment his clit.
“Are you – ng – are you, hf, tracing y-your name?” Alastor stuttered out, affront briefly holding up a stop sign to the rivers of pleasure that had his body in their grasp.
He couldn't think of any other explanation for the way Lucifer was drawing those lines against his skin – he had no scars there for the other man to trace, and the next patterns were two sharp lines, followed by another two added horizontally to the second.
“What – you've never heard about putting your name on what's yours? Because this-” Lucifer's voice lowered into a snarl, the king sliding his finger into Alastor's entrance up to the knuckle, a tantalising taste of the more he'd been waiting for. “Is mine. You're mine. And I want to make sure you fucking know that.”
Alastor shuddered, desperately resisting the urge to rock his hips on that finger – he was better than that, he wasn't some bitch in heat, ready to fuck himself on the first thing to enter his cunt. But – fuck, the tease of it, one slim finger not nearly enough to satisfy the ache pulsing through him, and Lucifer knew that. Alastor whined as he clenched, so wet that he could feel the slick sliding down his pussy – smearing against the vibrator practically glued to his clit and adding a satisfyingly warm heat to it.
His head whirled, eyes squeezed tightly shut and teeth clamped together as Lucifer returned to his thigh, his cunt lamenting the loss of even that too-slim digit. Another vertical line was added, stickiness dragged over his skin in a mortifying display of possession – and still pleasure coiled in his guts, satisfaction warming his chest at the claim.
There was no need for Lucifer to check in – to make sure Alastor was enjoying himself. The way his tail stood bolt upright, trembling faintly as he panted against the sheets, his hips making tiny, aborted movements in an attempt to increase that friction against his clit – the squeak that escaped his control, chest moving over the vibrators against his nipples and sending a burst of nerves firing away under his skin – all of that was more than enough for Lucifer to know things were fine.
Three more horizontal lines, and Lucifer returned to rub his finger through Alastor's slick one last time – like the demon's pussy was his personal inkwell. He trembled with anticipation, not saying a word when he felt the king trace the vertical line of the letter 'R', the sweeping curve and sharp jut of it. Hushed, staccato noises fell from his throat, static hissing heavily in the air and interlaced with the occasional blurt of microphone feedback; a note or two of jazz evidence of just how far his control was slipping.
Now – now Lucifer had to be ready to fuck him. To push his cock between those soaked folds and rock into the demon until his eyes watered, his body locking up from the pleasure of it all. He wanted that. Wanted that relief; he'd been balancing on the edge of the knife for far too long and if Lucifer made him wait any longer he was going to stumble, cutting himself in half.
“Calm down. I'll take care of you,” Lucifer's voice drifted through the sputtering static, a hint of a smile in his words as he stroked a hand up Alastor's tail. Feedback screeched as lightning raced up his spine, a strangled moan escaping between his clenched teeth as those threads of pleasure tangled with the sensations still spider-webbing out from his clit and nipples – until it felt like every single inch of Alastor's body had been set alight.
He could almost have sighed with relief when Lucifer returned to rub two fingers against his slit, parting the folds and sucking in a breath of his own, a muttered curse as Alastor felt him shift. Seconds later, those fingers slipped into his cunt – and Alastor couldn't even try to hold back the breathless sound that escaped him, the pressure of those fingers against his inner walls finally distracting some of his body's attention from the non-stop vibrations tormenting him.
Spreading his awareness out, so the one sensation didn't start to hurt, and his claws curled into the mattress as Lucifer slid his fingers out – and in again, a sharp motion that slapped the heel of his hand against Alastor's rear and dragged a squeak from his throat as the other man loomed over him, a little breathless himself when next he spoke.
“You know... there's something I don't think we've tried,” Lucifer murmured, withdrawing his fingers and slipping them up to circle Alastor's asshole, the demon clenching reflexively as wet, sticky fingertips brushed over the sensitive, whorled skin. A derisive blat of feedback burst into the air, delicate strands of pleasure racing away under his skin as his clit pulsed against the vibrator.
“Are you going senile, sire? We've done that on more than one oca- ah-!” Alastor stuttered, turning his head to bury his face in the sheets as a flush burned his cheeks, embarrassed at how good it always felt when Lucifer breached that tight ring of muscle, working one finger into him for mere moments before pressing a second one against the first.
Alastor was gritting his teeth so hard it ached, cunt twitching and protesting its sudden lack of attention even as an entirely new bevy of sensations started to wrack through him – and Lucifer chuckled.
“Not what I was talking about. You're so impatient, tonight,” Lucifer chided, gently scissoring his fingers – adding a touch more magical lube when Alastor squeaked his discomfort, his own slick not enough for what the king clearly intended.
Though Alastor wanted to bite out a retort, he felt it would only be playing into Lucifer's accusations of 'impatience'. His ears pressed firmly to his skull as he quietly seethed, tail bristling – and then waving with delight when Lucifer muttered an absent; “Good job, gorgeous.”
Gods – Lucifer barely even thought of the words, they fell from his tongue like honey, almost too sweet in their texture. But they flowed through Alastor's consciousness, warming the depths of his long dead heart until he could hear its beat in his pinned ears – could taste the pulse of it on the back of his tongue, throat bobbing as his legs trembled and his orgasm waited in his tense abdomen.
“I was going to say – we've never really messed around with the fact that I can shape-shift. You remember that, right?” Lucifer teased, petting over Alastor's tail with his free hand as he slipped a third finger into his hole, carefully stretching him even as Alastor tried to consciously relax.
He felt torn between the sensation that he was melting – and simultaneously stretched on a medieval rack, every sinew and muscles strung tight even as warmth fluttered over his thighs, across his belly – spreading over every inch of skin Lucifer's gaze landed on, and the king was attentive in where he looked.
“Forgive me, sire, but I hardly think you t-transforming into an octopus will be h-help-!..ful,” Alastor managed to get out through a moan, Lucifer sliding his other hand back between Alastor's legs and idly stroking it over his cunt, fingers just barely dipping into his entrance. Need pounded through Alastor, and he didn't care where Lucifer decided to fuck him, just so long as he did – so long as he stopped teasing and got on with things.
Fuck – Lucifer was toying with him as skilfully as he played his golden fiddle, and Alastor was helpless to stop the soft whimpers interspersed with his pants, forced to turn his head and press his cheek to the silk covers just so he could draw in a proper breath.
“Right track, wrong conclusion,” Lucifer leant down, pressing a kiss to Alastor's back – lips brushing over skin shining with a thin layer of sweat, and the forked tips of his tongue darted out to taste him. Alastor shuddered, perilously close to climaxing – before Lucifer sat back and withdrew his fingers, the loss of that stretch and that touch tripping Alastor's orgasm before it got started, clit aching as he felt that peak of pleasure yanked out from under his feet.
A litany of curses built on his tongue – but he stilled, not uttering a single one of them, when the head of Lucifer's cock snubbed up against his cunt.
“I mean – it seems a shame that I've never claimed both of these pretty little holes at once. Look at you, so gorgeous and needy for me – and I can have you in a way nobody else can possibly manage. What do you think? Should I make sure your body knows it's mine?” Lucifer growled, a demonic undercurrent to his words that few others managed to provoke in him.
Heavy with power, with the authority his position afforded him – and how could Alastor do anything but nod, the idea twisting his stomach into a brand new configuration as a second cock pressed against his puckered hole?
It was that cock that pushed forward first, Lucifer bracing one hand at Alastor's side so he could lean forward, his cock stretching Alastor's hole further than his slim fingers could ever manage – and Alastor couldn't have known what to expect, could never have prepared himself for the feeling as Lucifer also slid into his cunt, pressing against his inner walls as he inched forward.
Oh – that was – it was – fuck.
Alastor's head swam at the feeling, that delicious fullness in both holes at once, the faint voice of his pride protesting the treatment from the back of his mind and being smothered by the sound of Lucifer's breathy moan. One of his arms twitched, the almost forgotten rope around his wrist reminding him of its presence – reminding him that he couldn't have moved even if he'd wanted to.
He thought he might burst – might get torn in half, because there was so much pressure, how was it possible for him to accommodate both? Lucifer was still moving, still pushing forward – and Alastor let out a helpless whimper as his hips were pressed more firmly into the vibrator against his clit, Lucifer's weight pinning him down as he staked that claim he was so proud of.
Alastor had never felt filthier. And he was relishing the sensation as Lucifer finally settled to the base of his cock – cocks – damp breath warming the back of Alastor's neck. His ego fluttered as he picked up the desperate gasps Lucifer was trying so hard to suppress – felt the way the other man trembled against him, as close to coming undone as Alastor himself was.
It felt like long minutes before Lucifer moved again, Alastor's mind dazed and foggy as his senses struggled to keep up with everything that was going on. Every sensation wracking his body, relentless in the pleasure they insisted on dragging across his nerves. Fuck, but he could probably come just from this – from the feeling of Lucifer buried inside him, ass throbbing around the shaft pressed as deep as it could go, cunt clenching around Lucifer's other cock. Could probably come from that sensation alone, the vibrators against clit and nipples agonising in their persistence.
“I might have overestimated myself,” Lucifer huffed against his back, his voice strangled and desperate. No all-powerful King of Hell to be heard, his control evaporating like his breath, hot droplets of it condensing against Alastor's skin. “I didn't think you'd feel this fucking good.”
A burning glut of pleasure throbbed through the entirety of Alastor's lower half, a staticky groan free to burst into the room as his clenched smile fell open, too far gone to hold it shut. He sucked in air, hips trembling against the desire to hump that damned toy – to seek his orgasm, frustratingly just out of reach.
“Tell me,” Alastor demanded, wanting to glut himself on the knowledge. Wanting to know how his body felt, how it affected the Devil himself. Such a simple thing, and yet seemingly wondrous enough to unravel somebody as powerful as Lucifer.
“Hot,” Lucifer answered immediately – and Alastor had heard it before, on numerous occasions, and still he lapped up the words like a man dying of thirst, the only thing that could quench it being Lucifer's breathless confessions. “You're always so fucking hot. Like a d-damn furnace,” Lucifer stuttered, slowly drawing his hips back, both cocks sliding from Alastor's holes.
The tug on his rim and drag against his inner walls was divine, and Alastor panted harshly into the sheets, a garbled cry bursting from his throat when Lucifer rocked forward – possibly a little more intensely than even he'd planned, if the dazed 'oh, shit' buried between Alastor's shoulder blades was anything to go by.
“Wet. Soaked. Your cunt is dripping onto the bed, Alastor. And your ass-” Lucifer's whispered compliments fell away into a groan as he rolled his hips, barely withdrawing at all, simply trying to get deeper. Alastor whimpered, pleasure pulsing through him with every hurried beat of his heart – and that whimper turned into a desperate keen when the force of the vibrations increased, clawing at his climax without finesse or care, merely determined to wrench it from him.
“Ah – oh. Tight – both holes, both m-mine,” Lucifer went on, managing to roll his hips back far enough to thrust in again, his pace uncoordinated and clumsy as Alastor ached, sweat running down his neck. He was sinking, sucked into a whirlpool of pleasure that he couldn't get away from, his own hips jerking regardless of whether he meant them to or not.
Heat was coiling behind his clit, a building pressure pushing at his guts and strumming his nerves like harp-strings as Lucifer found something that was almost rhythmic – short, sharp little thrusts that barely saw his cocks leaving Alastor's body.
Something in the back of his mind felt like it snapped, his neck creaking where his head tipped back with a gasp. The pleasure that had been tormenting him for so long finally shattered, tearing through him with such violence that his limbs locked and his abdomen felt like it was in danger of cramping, wave after wave of pleasure wracking his frame as his antlers branched from his skull and speared one of the pillows.
He clenched down, unable to help it, holes pulsing around the shafts still buried deep – and Lucifer let out a choked shout, sharp teeth burying themselves in Alastor's shoulder as he felt the other man's cocks pulse within him, the hot spill of come in his cunt barely a drop in the ocean – the same in his ass making him whine. The sharp pain of those teeth breaking his skin only seemed to drag out his climax, sensation sweeping over his body until his eyes watered and he was mumbling the words before he had even consciously considered them;
“Enough, sire, please – I can't – turn them off – turn them off.”
It wasn't a prayer, and Lucifer wasn't equipped to hear them – but he answered it anyway. The toys that had been strapped to Alastor's chest and pussy not only stopped vibrating – they disappeared entirely, leaving him blessedly free of the pressure as his clit and nipples throbbed with the aftershocks of his orgasm.
He sagged to the bed, his pulse thudding through his veins – provoking a dull ache in far too many places to keep track of. Lucifer was softening inside him, the king having extracted his teeth to rest his cheek against Alastor's back even as he snapped his fingers and banished the rope that had been tied so carefully around wrists and legs.
Lucifer's added weight certainly wasn't making it any easier for Alastor to catch his breath, his chest heaving as his heart-rate slowed. Still, he had enough oxygen left in his lungs for his filter to crackle to life, his lips barely moving as he mumbled;
“I'll bet you look ridiculous, with two cocks.”
Lucifer snorted, said cocks slipping from Alastor in a slippery mess as the demon wrinkled his nose, not even bothering to straighten the leg Lucifer had hitched up for him. What purpose would moving serve, other than to speed up the spill of come dripping from both holes?
“You weren't complaining about them a few moments ago,” Lucifer pointed out, pressing an apologetic kiss to the already healing bite marks against Alastor's shoulder.
The sinner hummed a non-agreement, unable to muster up the energy for a witty enough retort. His mind was buzzing with an echo of those vibrators, endorphins as strong as opioids flooding his system – making him stupid.
The skin on his thigh felt slightly tight – and he recalled Lucifer's possessive little display, slitting open one unimpressed eye as the other man extracted himself from between Alastor's legs, flopping down at his side. Purple lids sat low over exhausted – but devilishly pleased – yellow eyes, and Lucifer tucked his arms behind his head.
All he needed was to light a cigarette, and he'd look like every macho fool after a romp.
Alastor flicked his gaze down, a faint echo of canned laughter ringing in the air.
He'd been correct. Ridiculous.
A twitch from his hole sent a fresh trickle of quickly cooling come running down the clef of his ass, and Alastor's lip curled. If Lucifer didn't clean him up quick-smart, he would be back down to a solitary cock – and Alastor didn't think he'd like the way he got there.
Ah. A hand landed on his head, gently rubbing at the base of an ear as he felt the evidence of their sex vanish. Good. His mental threat had worked. He allowed himself to indulge in the feeling of Lucifer's claws against his skull for a minute – before pushing himself up with a sigh.
One couldn't lay around in post-coital bliss all day. Lucifer tipped his chin up with a soft smile, not protesting the fact that Alastor was tugging on his clothes – and the demon paused, claws skimming thoughtfully over his thigh.
“Next time you write your name, do it with something a little more permanent,” Alastor purred, fastening his belt as Lucifer's eyes widened.
Before the king could utter the surprised question that must surely be burning his lips, Alastor leant down and seized those lips in a bruising kiss, knocking the wind out of the smaller man – and promptly vanished, an echo of laughter ringing in his wake as Lucifer stuttered, his cheeks flaming gold.
That ought to give him some ideas.
~fin~