Ace in the Hole (But the Hole is Lucifer)

by werki

Summary:

During the hotel’s Pride Month celebrations, Alastor finds himself uncharacteristically distracted by Lucifer’s appearance. After questioning Husk about the definition of pansexuality, Alastor begins to notice a sudden, viscerally intense desire for the king. When Heaven and Hell collaborate on a joint Pride event the next day, an anxious Lucifer sneaks away from the crowd, and Alastor follows him into an empty celestial guest bedroom. There, Alastor grapples with his newfound attraction, realizing he might fall under a selective sub-category of asexuality (demisexual/graysexual) specifically triggered by his emotional attachment to Lucifer.

Notes:

tbh I only put the cake pop part bc I had cake pops while writing this 😅

Alastor wasn't sure why Charlie made the staff dress up for Pride Month. He certainly wasn't going to complain—he liked the color purple more than he would admit—but seeing Lucifer in less layers than usual was… distracting.

 

Not in the way you'd expect, the man was just wearing a dumb coat with sleeves rolled up, brown pants, a ridiculous bowtie and a hat that was a little too small for his head. It sat crooked on his head, like he had put it on in a hurry and didn't bother adjusting it. The coat didn't have buttons, it sat open around his waist, exposing the white button up shirt underneath . His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, showing off his black forearms. The shirt had the top buttons undone, revealing a bit of collarbone.

 

Lucifer was wearing a pair of brown pants that fit snugly around his thighs, tapering down to his calves. His boots were polished to a shine, the white and brown leather reflecting the light. Why brown and white? Alastor wondered. That brown doesn't even match his pants. It was irritating. But not as irritating as the way Lucifer kept fidgeting with his bowtie—like he wasn't used to wearing one.

 

Alastor remembered what.. opinion Lucifer had claimed for himself, when Charlie had asked. Pansomething. Pan-something. Pan-flute? No, that was an instrument. Pan-seared? That was cooking. Pan-sexual. Right. He'd heard that one before... maybe.

 

He wanted to ask what it was, but he didn't want to speak to Lucifer—not unless he had to. But Husk was wearing the same colors, and Husk was tolerable. Alastor sidled up to him at the bar, pretending to inspect a bottle of whiskey. "Husk," he said, voice low. "What is panssexual?"

 

"What?" Husk blinked, his ears twitching as he set down the glass he was polishing. "Pansexual?"

 

"Yes," the deer demon confirmed. "Pansexual."

 

Husk gave him a long, flat look. "It means they're into people regardless of gender. Like, the dick and pussy part doesn't matter to 'em." He shrugged.

 

Alastor's ear twitched. Hm. That was… unexpectedly straightforward. He glanced sideways at Lucifer, who was now fiddling with his sleeves, rolling them up further.

 

Alastor drummed his fingers against the bar counter. Pansexual. So the little king didn’t care about the packaging—only the contents. Interesting. Not that it mattered, of course.

 

Except it did. Because now Alastor couldn’t stop noticing the way Lucifer’s hips swayed slightly when he walked—like he was trying get someone to notice. Or maybe he wasn’t. Maybe Alastor was just paying attention for the first time. The thought irritated him more than it should have.

 

Lucifer caught him staring. "What?" His voice was defensive.

 

Alastor didn’t bother looking away—no point pretending now. His grin widened, just a fraction too sharp. "Just admiring the fit, my dear. That bowtie is positively adorable." He leaned against the bar,

 

"It’s Charlie’s idea," he muttered, adjusting the bowtie again. "Not like I had much of a choice."

 

"Mmm.. that hat is even cuter," Alastor mused, tilting his head while, stepping closer. The height difference made it so Lucifer had to tilt his head back just to maintain eye contact. "Though I must say, I’m more interested in what’s underneath."

 

A beat of silence. Lucifer’s eyes narrowed. "Are you flirting with me?"

 

Alastor could feel his right eye twitch. "What?" The word came out sharper than intended. Flirting? With Lucifer?

 

Lucifer crossed his arms. "You heard me." His red eyes flicked over Alastor’s face, searching for something—amusement, maybe, or confusion. But he found neither.

 

"You must be delusional, Lu. As if I'd waste my time flirting with a man that has yet to earn his own child's respect." Alastor leaned down slightly, taking in the way the nickname and insult made Lucifer snarl.

 

The tension shattered as the hotel doors burst open. Charlie looked around, "Oh, there you four are! Perfect timing!" She clapped her hands together, oblivious to the way Lucifer stiffened and Alastor's grin twitched. "We're doing the Pride photo shoot now—no excuses!"

 

Both men didn't even notice Cherri lounging on the couch wearing her own outfit until she stood. "That was gay as hell," she whispered, glaring at Alastor.

 

Lucifer blinked, glancing at Alastor too. "yeah, Bambi." He nudged Alastor's side before following the other two out.

 

Alastor huffed. "I can't believe I'm doing this.." He whispered to himself, eventually following the group.

 

When Alastor arrived at the lobby where the photoshoot was being staged, he was given a wand where four colored streamers dangled from the end—purple, white, gray, and black. He would have frowned at the ridiculous prop if his smile weren't permanently fixed in place. "What am I supposed to do with this?"

 

"Wave it! Like this!" She demonstrated with her own streamer-wand, sending the colors fluttering dramatically.

 

"Hm. I used to be a ribbon dancer," Lucifer muttered under his breath, staring at the streamers as he experimentally flicked his wrist. The colors spun in a lazy arc—not quite graceful, but not entirely clumsy either. Alastor caught himself watching the motion before snapping his gaze away. He wasn't surprised, the man was older than time itself.

 

"Okay, okay, outside—everyone!" Charlie ushered them toward the entrance doors. Outside there was a large cutout of the hotel. A lot of time must have been put into it. It some of it was different from the hotel, some areas were painted in rainbow colors, like the "HAZBIN HOTEL" sign on the front.

 

He also noticed there was already confetti on the floor—somebody had clearly jumped the gun—but Charlie didn't seem to mind. "Alastor, you stand here!" She pointed to the left side of the cutout where his room was. There was a step stool placed there, so Alastor stood on it.

 

"Oo! Can I sit on my room then?" The overlord only now noticed that Lucifer held two props, a brown suitcase and the wand. He tapped his chin with the wand handle, considering the cutout. "I mean, it looks sturdy enough."

 

Charlie hesitated, glancing at the cardboard construction. "Uh... maybe not sit- it's a little."

 

"Perfect!" Lucifer was already climbing onto the top with both his hands full. The cardboard groaned ominously under his weight. Alastor's ear twitched—not in concern, obviously, just... observational interest. The king wobbled as he set the suitcase down, arms pinwheeling briefly before stabilizing himself with a triumphant little grin.

 

Alastor's grip tightened on his own streamer-wand. Idiot.

 

"Me too, me too!" Niffty scampered up the cardboard balcony with help from Baxter, who followed her up with considerably less enthusiasm. There was little to no space for the two tiny sinners—but they managed. Cherri stood in front of them while Husk sat in front of Alastor, placing his suitcase on the floor.

 

The princess and her girlfriend stood right next to each other as always, holding hands.

 

Alastor would say the end was... okay. The best and non-blurry photo they got was one similar to when they positioned themselves, except Niffty lost balance and held one hand onto Cherri's head, Baxter used the empty space to pose dramatically, Cherri was clearly annoyed, Husk was just sitting there like he was forced to be there (he was), and Lucifer was mid-fall, though he looked quite happy.

 

And Alastor was his usual self.

 

The moment it was finished, Lucifer fell backwards off the cardboard balcony, knocking off Baxter as well, though he managed to land on his feet. He landed on his back with an "oof", the suitcase bouncing open beside him—revealing nothing but a pile of ducks.

 

Alastor stared down at the scattered rubber ducks, his grin straining at the edges. Of course. Lucifer groaned, rubbing his lower back as he sat up.

 

"Oh no," Charlie whispered, hands flying to her mouth. "Dad- are you okay?"

 

Lucifer waved her off with a flick of his wrist. "Fine, fine- just a little tumble!" He scooped up a handful of ducks, shoving them haphazardly back into the suitcase.

 

Alastor watched, eyebrow twitching, as a single duck escaped the king's grasp, rolling across the floor toward his own polished shoes. He nudged it with the toe of his boot, sending it spinning back toward Lucifer. The tiny squeak it made as it hit the king's knee was almost endearing.

 

"Are you sure you don't need an ice pack? Or- or maybe a bandage?" Charlie fretted, kneeling beside her father.

 

"Charlie, sweetheart, I've survived worse than a three-foot fall onto my admittedly fabulous ass," Lucifer chuckled, snapping the suitcase shut with one hand. "I'm fine. Really."

 

"Fabulous ass, indeed," Alastor murmured quietly, clearly a joke.

 

The fallen angel paused, a yellow rubber duck gripped tightly in his hand, and looked up. His crimson eyes narrowed. "What did you say, bellhop?"

 

"I said the picture is finished, Your Majesty," Alastor smoothly lied, stepping off the stool.

 

Lucifer's grip tightened around the rubber duck until it emitted a pathetic squeak. His golden blush flared brighter, but his smirk was all challenge. "Funny, I could have sworn you said something else."

 

Alastor's grin didn't waver, but his fingers twitched against the streamer-wand still clutched in his hand. The purple ribbon brushed against Lucifer's boot as he took an unnecessary step closer. "Perhaps you're hearing things, Lu. Age catching up with you?"

 

Charlie coughed loudly, wedging herself between them with the practiced ease of someone who'd broken up too many near-fights. "Okay! Photos are done! I also made cake pops—rainbow ones!" She grabbed Lucifer's elbow. "I made yours special, Dad. Extra sprinkles."

 

Lucifer's attention snapped to his daughter immediately, the tension in his shoulders melting. Then he blinked, distracted momentarily by parental joy. "You remembered my sprinkle thing?"

 

Alastor watched as Lucifer allowed himself to be dragged away toward the doors, clutching his suitcase of ducks and the wand with one hand.

 

---

 

Alastor did not have a sweet tooth. He hated anything sweet, actually—loathed the way sugar made his teeth feel coated in syrup, despised the aftertaste that lingered. But it seemed Charlie also knew this. She made a non-sweetened batch of cake pops specifically for him. "I made these with black cocoa and espresso powder! And the frosting is just melted dark chocolate," she said, holding out a tray of plain brown pops.

 

How irritatingly thoughtful. He plucked one from the tray—not because he wanted it, obviously, but because refusing would be rude. And Alastor was never rude when he didn't have to be. The cake pop was decently moist, he could taste a hint of sweetness, but nothing overwhelming. The bitterness of the cocoa balanced well with the espresso undertones, and he found himself finishing it faster than anticipated.

 

Lucifer was already on his third cake pop, his cheeks slightly puffed out as he chewed—like a chipmunk hoarding nuts for winter. The man would first lick all the sprinkles off, meticulously, before taking small bites around the edges. He wouldn't swallow before taking the next bite either, so his mouth was always full, his cheeks constantly moving.

 

The demon wasn't sure why he was spending so much time watching Lucifer eat cake pops—as if the king's ridiculous chewing habits were it's own form of entertainment. Alastor had already discarded his streamer-wand somewhere between the lobby and the dining hall, but Lucifer still clutched his in one hand, the ribbons occasionally flaring out whenever he waved it absently.

 

Lucifer really seemed to be enjoying himself, didn't he? The tiny king had his eyes closed too as he ate—as if shutting out the world would somehow intensify the experience of eating cake pops. Alastor's fingers twitched against his empty skewer. There was something infuriating about watching Lucifer savor something so mundane with such shameless pleasure.

 

Alastor found himself lingering longer than necessary, pretending to examine the remaining cake pops while his gaze kept flicking back to Lucifer. The king had migrated to a plush armchair near the fireplace while a plate of the same cake pops balanced on his knee, his suitcase of ducks now resting on the floor beside him.

 

Is he... really going to eat all those? Alastor's ears twitched as he watched Lucifer lick a cluster of sprinkles off his fourth cake pop. The plate teetered dangerously on his knee—stacked high with at least thirty cake pops, all identical save for the ones already missing sprinkles from the king's meticulous harvesting.

 

Alastor sidled up to Charlie, who was refilling her own drink, water, of course. "Charlie," he said, nodding toward Lucifer's ridiculous spread of cake pops, "Is this… normal?" His voice was carefully neutral, and his gaze flicked toward the king's direction.

 

Charlie glanced over, her expression softening immediately. "Oh yeah, totally normal," she said, pouring herself another glass of water. "Dad's always been like this with sweets—ever since I was little." Her voice was a little more vulnerable. "He would eat an entire cake by himself in one sitting. And the sugar crashes he gets... are pretty bad..." She sighed.

 

Alastor's ear twitched. Sugar crashes?

 

"You should see him with ice cream," Charlie added with a small laugh. "He once ate two gallons in ten minutes. Then he cried when his stomach hurt."

 

The demon genuinely laughed at the image. "And yet he never learns?"

 

Charlie shook her head fondly, watching her father lick another cake pop with rapt attention. "Nope! You'd think after centuries of stomachaches, he'd develop some self-control, but—" She gestured vaguely toward Lucifer, who was now humming happily as he peeled sprinkles off his fifth cake pop like they were precious gemstones. "—clearly not."

 

Alastor's smile widened as he watched Lucifer practically inhale his sixth cake pop.

 

---

 

It seemed the Vee's copied Charlie's Pride idea—except theirs was less "happy celebration" and more "profitable exploitation." But Charlie had given the idea to Emily first, who had given it to Sera, and suddenly Heaven and Hell were collabing to make their own Pride event. Which meant Lucifer had to attend... for some reason?

 

He didn't know why Lucifer had to attend. Most likely because he was of the highest status in Hell and was able to get in contact with Heaven's higher ups... but Alastor doubted the king was thrilled about this arrangement.

 

The letter was brought by Emily, who shoved it into the king's arms. "Fuck me sideways," he muttered after a minute, tossing the scroll behind him.

 

Alastor plucked it up before Lucifer could retrieve it. The handwriting was absurdly ornate, all looping cursive and unnecessary neatness. By decree of the Celestial Council, it began, all parties of "HAZBIN HOTEL", including Lucifer Morningstar, are cordially invited to attend the First Annual Pride Celebration & Hell-Heaven Reconciliation Event. His grin tightened.

 

Lucifer snatched it back before Alastor could read further. "None of your business, Bambi," he huffed, rolling the scroll up before walking to where Emily was talking to Charlie.

 

Alastor drummed his fingers against his thigh. He suppose it made sense. Heaven banished Lucifer, gave him trauma he couldn't recover from, pain he couldn't heal, and now they wanted to play nice? And Lucifer... Lucifer was just going to go? But it seems Lucifer will go to great lengths for Charlie, won't he? Even if it meant pretending to be civil with Heaven.

 

It was set up the next day, every sinner was welcomed into a secluded place in Heaven, much to Alastor's surprise. The venue was blindingly white—as expected—and full of in neon rainbow decorations that clashed horribly with the sterile surroundings.

 

Lucifer stood stiffly by the entrance, like he was waiting for someone to talk to him—or perhaps hoping no one would. He was wearing the same outfit as in the photo shoot, but the bowtie was now properly adjusted and the hat sat straight on his head.

 

Oh... just looking at him is making me sad... Alastor mused, watching Lucifer from across the celestial ballroom. The king's shoulders were drawn tight, fingers tapping anxiously against his thigh—like he'd rather be anywhere else. Yet he hadn't bolted. Because Charlie was here. Because she'd asked him to stay.

 

The Radio Demon twirled his cane idly, considering his options. Normally, he'd delight in watching Lucifer squirm—but something about the way the king kept glancing at the exits, the way his tongue flicked out whenever an angel approached... It wasn't funny. Just irritating.

 

Alastor materialized beside him. "Boo."

 

Lucifer startled so badly his hat nearly toppled off. "Holy fuck-" He whirled, hands raised defensively before registering who it was. His golden blush flared instantly. "Oh. You."

 

"Mmm, yes, me." Alastor leaned in, just close enough to make Lucifer tilt his head back. "Having fun, Your Majesty?"

 

Lucifer scowled, adjusting his hat. "Loads."

 

Alastor's grin sharpened. "Liar~." He tapped his cane against the pristine floor, letting the silence stretch between them. Then, because he could: "Want to get out of here?"

 

Lucifer's eyes snapped to his, wary. "...What?"

 

Alastor shrugged. "I'm not enjoying myself. You're clearly not enjoying yourself. Charlie's occupied with Emily. No one will notice if we slip out." He extended his cane toward a side door half-hidden behind gauzy rainbow drapes. "Unless, of course, you'd rather stay here and endure small talk for the next six hours?"

 

Lucifer hesitated, his fingers tightening around the brim of his hat. Alastor could practically see the gears turning—pride warring with the desperate urge to flee. Then, with a sharp exhale, Lucifer muttered, "Fuck it," and shoved past Alastor toward the side door.

 

The hallway beyond was mercifully empty, lined with murals that Lucifer pointedly ignored. His boots clicked against the marble floor, the sound echoing sharply as he picked up speed—not quite running, but close. Alastor followed at a leisurely pace, his cane tapping in rhythm with Lucifer’s hurried steps.

 

They turned a corner, then another, until the muffled noise of the event faded entirely. Lucifer finally slowed, shoulders sagging as he leaned against a wall. "Fuck," he breathed, dragging a hand down his face. "I hate those sanctimonious pricks." His voice was brittle, like sugar glass—thin and ready to shatter.

 

Alastor tilted his head, studying the way Lucifer’s fingers trembled against the wall. "Then why come at all?"

 

"Because Charlie asked." Simple. Final. Like that explained everything.

 

The hallway stretched before them, silent except for the distant noise of the event. Lucifer pushed off the wall, fiddling with his bowtie again—a nervous habit Alastor was beginning to find endearing. "Where are we, anyway?"

 

"Somewhere we shouldn't be," Alastor mused, running his fingers along a mural depicting Adam and Eve—except Eve had horns and Adam's face was conveniently scratched out. His grin widened when he noticed Lucifer staring at the vandalism with something like pride.

 

The hallway branched off into smaller corridors, each lined with identical white doors. Lucifer reached for one knob, hesitating briefly before twisting it—locked. He tried another with the same result. "Of course," he muttered, kicking the door frame lightly with the toe of his boot.

 

But the next one he tried opened easily, swinging inward with a faint creak to reveal a small, dimly lit guest bedroom. "Huh," Lucifer muttered, stepping inside before Alastor could stop him. When the smaller man saw the bed, he ran to it, jumping onto it belly first with his arms spread out. "Ohhhh~" He stretched, wiggling his legs slightly as he sank into the mattress. "This is nice. Especially after all that standing."

 

Alastor lingered in the doorway, watching Lucifer's boots kick absently against the bedding—already leaving faint scuff marks on the white fabric. The Radio Demon's fingers twitched against his cane. "Making yourself comfortable?"

 

Lucifer rolled onto his back with a sigh, arms flopping out to either side. His hat tilted precariously over his eyes. "Damn right. You should try it—might loosen that stick up your ass." He lifted the brim of his hat just enough to peer at Alastor.

 

The bedsprings creaked as Alastor sat on the edge, just far enough to avoid touching. "Tempting, but I'd rather not ruin my suit."

 

Lucifer snorted, stretching his arms above his head until something audibly popped. "Suit yourself, I might take a nap." He yawned, exaggeratedly wide—tongue flicking out, fangs flashing—before settling deeper into the mattress. The hat slipped entirely over his face.

 

Alastor's ear twitched at the muffled squeak of mattress springs. The bed was clearly designed for smaller beings—Alastor could tell if he laid down, his legs would hang off the end—but Lucifer fit perfectly, curled slightly on his side now, hat still covering his face. The man peeled the neatly made blanket down with one hoofed boot, revealing crisp white sheets beneath. "Angel beds," he muttered, pressing his palm against the fabric. "Still pre-warmed."

 

Alastor's grip tightened around his cane. "Do tell."

 

Lucifer's forked tongue flicked out briefly—not nervous this time, but contemplative. "They heat up automatically to whatever temperature makes you most comfortable." He stretched again. "Used to have one in my old quarters. Before..."

 

Before the Fall. Before everything.

 

A beat of silence. Then Lucifer abruptly sat up, hat falling onto the pillow behind him. "Oh fuck, look." He pointed to the nightstand, where a small dish held three pastel-colored mints. "They still put these out."

 

Alastor tilted his head as Lucifer snatched one up, unwrapping it with quick fingers. The king popped it into his mouth, eyes fluttering shut as the flavor hit. "Still the same," he murmured around the mint. His voice was softer now—less brittle, more like someone remembering a dream.

 

The Radio Demon's grin twitched. "Stealing from Heaven now, are we?"

 

Lucifer opened one eye. "Not stealing if they left them for guests." He held out another mint toward Alastor, balanced precariously on his palm. "Try one."

 

Alastor stared at the mint resting on Lucifer’s palm—pale pink and perfectly round, like something designed to tempt. He plucked it between two fingers, turning it over with deliberate slowness. "Heaven’s hospitality is… unexpectedly thorough."

 

Lucifer flopped back onto the bed with a huff, arms pillowing his head. "Yeah, well. They’ve always been good at the small things." His voice was muffled against the fabric, tinged with something Alastor couldn’t quite place—nostalgia? Resentment? The king kicked off his boots one by one, letting them thud onto the plush carpet. "Ugh. Should’ve done that hours ago."

 

The Radio Demon unwrapped the mint, letting the foil fall to the ground as he placed it on his tongue. The burst of sweetness made his nose wrinkle but he forced himself to chew it, just because Lucifer would notice if he spat it out.

 

Meanwhile, Lucifer's breathing had slowed into something deep and rhythmic—the telltale sign of sleep creeping in. His arms were still stretched above his head, one hand curled loosely around the discarded hat brim. The mint had left a faint pink smear at the corner of his mouth, and his forked tongue darted out once, twice, as if chasing the last traces of sugar in his sleep.

 

Alastor watched, fascinated, as a stray lock of hair fell across Lucifer's forehead. The king twitched—a full-body shudder that made the mattress springs groan—then settled again with a sigh that sounded suspiciously like "fuckin' cherubs..." Alastor's ear flicked. Even in sleep, the man was irreverent.

 

The mint dissolved into a cloying sweetness on Alastor's tongue—unpleasant, but not unbearable. He should spit it out. He would spit it out. Any second now.

 

His gaze lingered instead on Lucifer's parted lips, the faint pink sheen of saliva where the mint had been. The king's throat moved as he swallowed in his sleep, a tiny, vulnerable motion. Alastor's fingers twitched around his cane.

 

Something flickered in his chest as he stared down at Lucifer's sleeping form. A warmth that wasn't just irritation or amusement. It was—sharp. Sudden. Unwelcome. Alastor blinked, and for a fraction of a second, his mind supplied an image so vivid and sexual it startled him.

 

What. Alastor could feel his eye twitch again—a physical reaction to the mental image that had just seared itself behind his eyelids. What in the...

 

Lucifer shifted on the bed, one arm sliding down to rest across his stomach. The movement pulled his shirt taut over his chest, revealing the faintest outline of his collarbones beneath the fabric. His breathing remained steady, lips slightly parted, utterly oblivious to the way Alastor was gripping his cane like it might spontaneously combust.

 

How.. Alastor thought, staring at Lucifer's sleeping form with an unfamiliar tightness in his throat. Asexual. Charlie had explained all the basic sexuality labels to him—and he'd shrugged and said "asexual" without much thought because he'd never cared about sex before and the rest didn't fit. Simple. Clean. Easy.

 

But why... now?

 

He'd never looked at anyone—demon, sinner, or otherwise—and felt the sudden, visceral urge to press them into a mattress and ruin them in such a sexual matter. Until now. Until Lucifer, of all people. A fallen angel barely taller than Niffty, currently drooling on Heaven's pillows.

 

The demon swallowed, as if that could dislodge the unwelcome sensation crawling up his throat.

 

He realized what the feeling in his chest for the past two days had been. Desire. Lust. Want. And Alastor—oddly—didn't hate it.

 

Alastor’s cane clattered to the floor.

 

The noise startled Lucifer awake—his eyes snapping open, unfocused and drowsy. He blinked up at Alastor, lips still parted, face still slack with sleep. "Mmh…?”

 

Alastor didn’t move. He was too busy processing the way Lucifer’s half-lidded gaze dragged down his torso, lingering somewhere near his belt before flicking back up.

 

WAIT. Did Lucifer just-? No. Surely not. The king was still half-asleep, his brain probably lagging behind his instincts.

 

Lucifer rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm. "The fuck're you staring at?" His voice was raspy, still thick with sleep, but his fingers twitched against the sheets—like he was resisting the urge to reach out.

 

Alastor forced his grin wider, ignoring the way his pulse jumped when Lucifer’s gaze lingered. "Nothing," he lied smoothly, bending to retrieve his cane. The movement brought him closer to the bed, his shadow stretching across Lucifer’s sprawled form. "Just admiring at how easily you nap in enemy territory."

 

"Yeah? Well, admire somewhere else," he muttered, but there was no bite to it. Just that same brittle edge Alastor was learning meant I’m embarrassed, fuck off.

 

Alastor’s grin sharpened. Instead of stepping back, he leaned forward, planting his cane between his legs. "What if I don’t want to?"

 

"So you're just gonna look at me while I sleep? Kinda creepy, Bambi," Lucifer mumbled, stretching his arms above his head until his shirt rode up.

 

Alastor tilted his head. "Who said I was looking at you?"

 

"The way you're blushing."

 

Silence.

 

Had he been blushing?

 

Lucifer's smile stretched in smug satisfaction. "Oh wow," He wriggled upright against the pillows. "Is the big bad Radio Demon flustered?" The gold flush creeping up his neck betrayed him far more effectively than any words could.

 

Alastor's fingers flexed around his cane. "And if I were?"

 

Lucifer looked confused for a moment—like he hadn't expected Alastor to admit it—before his grin turned downright feral. "So you were flirting back then?"

 

Alastor didn't blink. "Would you like me to be?"

 

The demon knew he was pushing it—leaning over Lucifer like this, his shadow swallowing the king whole. But Lucifer didn’t shrink back. "Tryin' to intimidate me, deer boy?" His voice had dropped an octave, rough with something Alastor couldn't name. "Bit late for that."

 

"Would you let me intimidate you?" Alastor murmured, leaned even closer.

 

Lucifer's golden blush flared hotter, but his grin didn't waver, he was getting sick of this guy's questions. "Dunno," he breathed, arching into the space between them. "Would you want to?"

 

It was clearly turning sexual, yet Alastor found himself intrigued rather than repulsed.

 

Lucifer's throat worked as he swallowed. "Uhmm... this might sound weird.. but—" His voice cracked slightly. "—do you wanna... fuck? Like, right now?" The words tumbled out in a rush, but then he shook his head. "Oh-.. fuck- uh- nevermind- your uhmm... asexual thing- right? Shit. I'm sorry."

 

Sorry for what? The overlord thought, For wanting me? For being bold enough to ask? For being so cute when flustered?

 

Lucifer's hands flew up, already backtracking with the frantic energy of someone who'd misread every signal. "That probably made you really uncomfortable- fuck, I shouldn't have-"

 

Alastor caught his wrist mid-air, fingers curling tight. The king froze, lips parted around unfinished words.

 

"I'm not uncomfortable," Alastor simply said, pressing Lucifer's wrist back against the mattress. "Quite the opposite. Odd, is it not? I've never felt this kind of heat before—certainly never wanted to act on it." He finally climbed on the bed, letting his cane fall against the nightstand.

 

Lucifer's breath hitched, his golden blush spreading down his neck. "So-.. you're not asexual? Or...?"

 

Alastor's grin took on a sharper edge as he settled over him. "Perhaps I'm simply exceptionally selective." He titled his head slightly. "And you, it seems, have made the cut."

 

Selective about who you had sexual feelings with... Lucifer was sure there was a label for that, but his brain wasn't working right now. "So.. like.. I'm your type or something?"

 

"Not quite..." Alastor's grin softened into something unfamiliar "More like... you're the first person I've wanted to understand. The first person whose company I've actively sought out beyond amusement. That's... new for me."

 

Lucifer blinked up at him. "Wait. So you're telling me..." He squirmed slightly under Alastor's weight. "You've been... emotionally attached to me this entire time?" His face scrunched. "That's so much worse than just thinking I'm hot."

 

The other man pressed Lucifer deeper into the mattress. The king's startled squeak was delicious—almost as much as the way his thighs instinctively parted to accommodate Alastor's hips. "Maybe I think you're both," Alastor purred, dragging his nose along Lucifer's jawline. "Hot and irritatingly endearing."

 

Lucifer's breath hitched when sharp teeth grazed his throat. "Fuck-" His protest melted into a gasp as Alastor's knee slid between his legs, pressing firm against the growing bulge in his trousers.

 

"What about you?" The demon asked, pressing his knee harder against Lucifer's clothed erection. "You never answered my question—do you want this?"

 

Lucifer's breath stuttered, his hips jerking. "Fuck- I-.. maybe?" His voice cracked, fingers twisting in the sheets. "But like- we're literally in Heaven's guest room-"

 

Alastor nipped at his throat, relishing the way Lucifer arched into it. "Mmm.. like you care... you were just sleeping in their bed,"

 

Lucifer squirmed—half-hearted, more reflexive than genuine resistance. "Yeah, but sleeping isn't- ah!- the same as..." Lucifer’s sentence turned into a sharp inhale as Alastor’s knee pressed harder against him, the friction cradling his clothed erection perfectly.

 

"So.. I suppose that means we shouldn't?" Alastor teased, rocking his knee a little faster.

 

It seemed Lucifer's answer was 'no', as he tackled the demon onto his back—suddenly flipping them so he straddled Alastor's hips. The demon blinked up, momentarily stunned at the abrupt reversal. Only now Alastor realized the heat he was feeling wasn't from Lucifer's arousal—but his own.

 

Lucifer's hands braced against Alastor's chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his coat. Alastor's stupid hat fell off somewhere—not that he cared—and now his antlers pressed uncomfortably into the pillows. The demon could feel Lucifer's thighs trembling against his hips, the heat of him radiating through layers of clothing.

 

"Mm.. you're hard too," he blurted, rocking his hips experimentally against the undeniable heat beneath him. Then Lucifer took of his coat, throwing it somewhere in the room neither of them cared about. His hands were at his shirt buttons—fumbling in his haste, fingers trembling with adrenaline.

 

Lucifer's fingers finally gave up on the buttons—he snarled and just ripped the shirt open, buttons pinging against the walls. His chest heaved under Alastor's gaze, golden flush crawling down his sternum. "Fuck," he breathed, rolling his hips again, shameless now. "Can.. I admit something?"

 

The other man narrowed his eyes slightly. "Sure..."

 

Lucifer exhaled sharply—like he was gathering courage—before blurting, "I've thought about this. About you. More than I fucking should." His fingers dug into Alastor's shirt collar. "Like, stupidly often. Which is- fuck- embarrassing to say out loud."

 

Alastor's grin widened. "Oh?"

 

Lucifer's golden flush deepened. "Don't look so smug," he muttered, but his hips rocked forward again, shamelessly grinding against the hard line of Alastor's erection. "I just- you're-" His voice hitched when Alastor's hands slid up his thighs, squeezing. "You're annoyingly hot, okay? Like, objectively."

 

"Objectively?" Alastor repeated. His thumbs rubbed circles along Lucifer's inner thighs, feeling the muscles twitch. The king's breath hitched—tiny, punched-out sounds escaping each time Alastor's fingers crept higher.

 

Lucifer's fingers tangled in Alastor's hair, tugging sharply. "Stop laughing at me," he hissed, but the effect was ruined by the way his thighs squeezed around Alastor's hips, his cock visibly straining against his trousers.

 

"I'm not laughing.." Alastor purred, rubbing harder now, fingertips skimming the inseam of Lucifer's trousers. "Just didn't think you would admit to such a thing." His claws pricked lightly through the fabric, dragging downward until Lucifer's breath stuttered.

 

Lucifer's grip tightened in Alastor's hair, pulling just shy of painful. "Yeah? Well surprise—" His hips jerked forward, grinding down with purpose now. "—I think about your stupid hands and your stupid voice and—" A sharp inhale as Alastor's fingers found the button of his trousers. "—dick..." That part was whispered, barely audible, like he was ashamed of the word itself.

 

"Hm.. you've seen every part of me but the one thing you haven't is on your mind more than anything else?" Alastor mused, popping the button free with a flick of his thumb. His grin went sharper when Lucifer's breath hitched—high and thin—as the zipper lowered inch by torturous inch. "Curious."

 

Lucifer's thighs tensed, his hips twitching forward instinctively. "Shut up," he hissed, but the effect was ruined by the way his member strained against the fabric of his briefs, already leaking through the material. His fingers tightened in Alastor's clothes, not pulling—just clinging, like he needed something to ground him.

 

Alastor's fingers traced the damp spot lazily, circling the head through the fabric. There was something almost hypnotic about the way Lucifer's breathing stuttered—tiny breathy noises escaping each time Alastor applied pressure. The pants and underwear slid entirely off, leaving him bare.

 

Lucifer's fingers twitched against Alastor's shirt collar before he blurted, "Can I-" A sharp inhale. "See it?"

 

Alastor froze.

 

Lucifer barreled on, words tumbling like dice across a table: "Your- y'know. Dick. Obviously. Since you've already got mine halfway out and- um. It's only fair? Unless you don't want to, which is fine! Totally fine! I just figured since we're already y'know. Here. And you're... hard. Which I can feel, by the way-" His hips twitched involuntarily against Alastor's thigh. "-not that I'm keeping track or anything but- fuck- it feels big? Or maybe I'm imagining it? Which would be weird, why would I imagine- anyway point is I wanna see if it matches the- the mental image? Fuck." He buried his face in his hands, gold blush glowing between his fingers.

 

The man below tapped his chin, thinking, savoring every second of Lucifer’s mortification. "Hm..." Lucifer peeked between his fingers. "I suppose..." Alastor conceded at last.

 

Lucifer's breath hitched as Alastor's fingers finally hooked into the waistband of his briefs, dragging them down just enough to expose the flushed head of his cock—already dripping, twitching under the sudden cool air. "Fuck," Lucifer hissed.

 

"It's only fair," Alastor murmured, siting up slightly. The demon shifted his hold on Lucifer, pushing him up further, so Lucifer's ass wasn't touching his erection anymore. Those fingers stayed back there though, only when Lucifer heard the sound of a belt buckle clicking open, he realized why. The king scrambled off Alastor's lap—too eagerly—just as Alastor popped the button on his own slacks.

 

The overlord noticed the other man had started impatiently wiggling his ass as he waited for Alastor to undress further. He made a soft amused sound—not quite a laugh—before finally unzipping and sliding his slacks and briefs down just enough to free his erection.

 

Lucifer's breath audibly caught. It seemed their dicks were just as different as their personalities—Alastor's was thick, flushed dark red, veins prominent along the shaft, the kind of dick you would expect from someone his height. Lucifer's was paler, shorter, and honestly adorable in comparison, but still twitching impatiently between his thighs.

 

"Well?" Alastor prompted. "Does it match your mental image?"

 

Lucifer's mouth went dry, his thighs tightening around nothing. "Uhmmmmm..." His gaze flicked between Alastor's face and his erection. "Yeah," he breathed, swallowing hard. "Fuck, yeah, it does." His fingers twitched like he wanted to touch but didn't dare. "I'm a little jealous."

 

Alastor chuckled low in his throat. "Jealous of what? That... we're not the same size?"

 

"N-no.. I don't care about that part..." Lucifer muttered, his golden blush deepening as his fingers curled into fists. "I just... fuck, this sounds stupid-"

 

Alastor tilted his head, watching how Lucifer's thighs pressed together instinctively, the way his smaller cock twitched against his stomach. "Tell me."

 

"I just... can't imagine the places that thing can hit," Lucifer blurted, staring at Alastor's erection with something between awe and secondhand discomfort.

 

Alastor's grin twitched as he deliberately flexed his hips upward, watching Lucifer's gaze track the movement. "Jealous of the angles, then?"

 

"No, dipshit," Lucifer huffed, but his thighs squeezed together reflexively again. "I'm saying—" His fingers flexed in the air like he was physically grasping for words. "—if that thing was inside someone, it'd—" He gestured vaguely toward his own pelvis, gold blush flaring hot. "—reach places. Like—" Another aborted hand motion. "—fuck, nevermind." His voice cracked. "This is stupid."

 

Alastor's grin sharpened as realization settled upon him. "Ah." His thumb dragged along the underside of his own cock. "You're not jealous of it... you're jealous of what it could do."

 

Lucifer's jaw clenched. "Shut up."

 

The mattress creaked as Alastor shifted closer. "You want to know," he murmured, pressing the flushed head of his erection against Lucifer's trembling thigh, "what it feels like." A slow roll of his hips smeared precum across white skin. "To be filled like that."

 

Lucifer backed up. "S-so what?" He tried to sound nonchalant, but his legs trembled slightly, thighs pressing together unconsciously yet again. His golden blush spread downward, painting his chest in warm hues. "I was just... thinking out loud."

 

Alastor's grin widened as he slowly crawled forward, forcing Lucifer to scoot back against the pillows.

 

"Have you ever gotten head?" The abrupt subject change made Alastor pause mid-crawl, his grin freezing into something bemused. Lucifer barreled on before he could answer: "I mean- we don't have to do that right now obviously- just- you're asexual and I figured maybe you hadn't tried?"

 

Head...? Alastor blinked. The abrupt shift in conversation—from Lucifer’s nervous rambling about size to whatever Lucifer was asking—caught him off guard in a way few things ever had. "And that's supposed to be..?"

 

"Uh... You-" He paused, trying to determime if the man was joking or being serious. "You don’t know what head is?" Lucifer blinked up at Alastor, his gold-flushed cheeks darkening further when he realized the demon was genuinely confused. The king propped himself up on his elbows, staring at Alastor like he’d just admitted to never seeing a television.

 

"Unless you mean decapitation, no, I can’t say I’m familiar."

 

Lucifer’s mouth opened, then closed. Then opened again. "Like-" He mimed something vaguely obscene with his hands before aborting the motion with a strangled noise. "Y’know. Head. Blowjob. Sucking dick. Oral."

 

The silence that followed was palpable. Alastor’s grin remained frozen. "...Ah," he said at last, voice carefully neutral. "Hm.. no, I don't believe I've had anyone attempt that before."

 

Lucifer’s eyes widened. "Seriously?" His gaze flicked downward instinctively, then back up. "Never?"

 

"Never," Alastor confirmed, shifting his weight slightly. He seemed more intrigued than offended, his grin softening into something contemplative. "It's... an unusual suggestion. Why would someone want to put another's genitals in their mouth? Seems unsanitary."

 

Lucifer sputtered, golden blush flaring brighter as he gestured wildly between them. "Because it feels good?" He said. "Like, objectively? Have you never—" He swallowed hard when Alastor's gaze dropped to his mouth. "—wondered what it'd be like? To have someone go down on you?"

 

Alastor tilted his head, intrigued despite himself. "Can't say I have wondered what it'd be like if someone... went down on me," he mused, rolling the unfamiliar phrase around his tongue. His gaze drifted to Lucifer's lips again, then back up. "But why would somebody voluntarily do that? Seems like... a lot of effort with little reward for the giver."

 

Lucifer's golden blush deepened. "Uh. Okay. Wow." He scratched his temple, momentarily derailed by Alastor's complete lack of pornographic literacy. "You- you do know people enjoy giving head, right? Like, some folks get off on doing it?"

 

"..Why?" Alastor tilted his head, genuine confusion knitting his brows together as he studied Lucifer's parted lips.

 

Lucifer only stared at him. "Uhh.. why people get off on giving oral?" The blond man tilted his head as well.

 

"Yes."

 

"Okay, deer boy, let's simplify," Lucifer muttered, rubbing his temples. "Some people like the taste, some like the control, some just get off on making their partner feel good. It could be any or all of those—fuck, sometimes you don’t even know why you like it, you just do. Could be based on aesthetics—ever seen a pretty mouth wrapped around something and thought 'damn, that’s hot'? Some people just go together,"

 

Alastor blinked slowly. "No."

 

Lucifer exhaled sharply, fingers tapping an impatient rhythm against the mattress. "Okay, fuck it." Before Alastor could react, the king had already sat up was crawling between the demon's spread legs. The sudden movement made Alastor's claws dig into the sheets.

 

"Wait-" Alastor's voice hitched—an actual hitch, something Lucifer had never heard before—as warm fingers traced the vein along his shaft. "This is unnecessary-"

 

"Shut up," Lucifer muttered, his forked tongue darting out to wet his lips. "Science experiment." His breath ghosted over the flushed head of, making the demon's hips twitch involuntarily. "Gonna prove you wrong."

 

Alastor's fingers twisted in the sheets. "About what exactly-"

 

"That some people do enjoy this," Lucifer murmured, his breath warm against Alastor's skin. His fingers curled loosely around the base, thumb swiping over the slit just to watch the demon's thigh muscles tense. "Like me." That was the last thing Lucifer said before his mouth wrapped around the head with no hesitation.

 

Alastor's breath stuttered, radio interference audibly crackling in his throat as Lucifer's tongue swirled experimentally around the tip. It was worse when the man started sucking—wet, messy, and utterly shameless. Alastor's fingers twisted tighter in the sheets, his hips jerking upward involuntarily.

 

Lucifer hummed around him—a pleased, smug sound—and Alastor's claws shredded the sheets beneath them. "Lucifer-" The name cracked halfway out, static distorting the syllables as the man took him deeper. Alastor's ears flattened against his skull, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts.

 

The king's eyes flicked up, locking onto Alastor's face with obvious amusement. He hollowed his cheeks, pulling a choked noise from the demon. Lucifer pulled off with a wet *pop*, lips glistening. "See?" he panted, rubbing his thumb over the swollen head just to watch Alastor's thighs twitch. "Some of us like it."

 

Alastor's grin was strained at the edges. "A-apparently," he managed, voice slightly glitching. Lucifer smirked and ducked back down before Alastor could say more, taking him deeper this time—the slick heat of his mouth making Alastor's claws gouge trenches in the mattress.

 

He pulled off yet again. "And only some of us can take a big dick down our throat without gagging," Lucifer added with a self-satisfied smirk, flicking his forked tongue against the underside of Alastor's cock.

 

Alastor’s breath hitched as Lucifer’s tongue dragged a slow stripe from base to tip. The king’s lips curled around the head again, humming when Alastor’s hips jerked forward again.

 

"Stop-" Alastor’s voice glitched, fingers twitching against the ruined sheets. "Mmmp- what is that-"

 

Lucifer pulled off with an wet sound, licking a stray bead of precum from his lower lip. "What's what?"

 

Alastor's claws flexed, shredding another inch of fabric. "That- noise." He couldn't think properly.

 

Lucifer blinked. Then his smirk returned, slow and wicked. "Ohhhh~" He dragged the tip of his tongue along Alastor's shaft, watching the demon's ears pin back. "That?" Another hum, deliberate this time—vibrating against oversensitive skin—and Alastor's hips bucked violently. "Yeah, that's called vibrations, Bambi. Feels nice, doesn't it?"

 

Alastorr tipped his head back when the Lucifer did it again—that filthy, throaty hum that made his vision flicker like a bad signal. His claws flexed, digging deeper into the mattress. "Fuck," he hissed, static crackling around the word.

 

Lucifer grinned around him, his forked tongue pressing flat against the underside just to watch Alastor's thighs tremble. The king's fingers curled around the base, pumping in time with his mouth—messy, uneven strokes that had Alastor's breath hitching in short, glitched bursts.

 

The overlord's ears twitched when Lucifer suddenly pulled off again, panting. "Okay," Lucifer muttered. "Uh- so... I have an ask of you now." His fingers tightened around Alastor's shaft absently.

 

Alastor stared down at him, breath still uneven. "Which is?"

 

Lucifer's throat worked as he swallowed, his forked tongue darting out to wet his already slick lips. Gold-flushed and breathless, he finally rasped, "I want you to—" His grip tightened unconsciously. "—prep me while I do this."

 

Alastor's grin froze into something dangerous. "Excuse me?"

 

Lucifer's knees shifted awkwardly on the mattress. "Y'know." His free hand gestured vaguely toward his own backside. "Finger me. While I—" He squeezed Alastor's shaft pointedly, earning a staticky exhale. "—keep busy up here. Two birds, one stone, all that."

 

The man above raise a brow. "You want me to..." His grin twitched, claws flexing against the ruined sheets. "Finger you. While you're doing this?"

 

Lucifer's throat bobbed. "Yeah." His fingers tightened around Alastor's shaft again, thumb swiping over the slick head. "I mean- if you don't want to I can do it myself but-" His hips rolled unconsciously against nothing, thighs pressing together briefly.

 

"No.. it's just..." The demon paused glancing away for a moment. "I'm not sure if I can make you feel good..."

 

Lucifer blinked up at him. "Aw..." His golden blush flared brighter, he looked away, as if embarrassed by his own reaction. "That's... actually kinda sweet? You worried about me feeling good?" His forked tongue flicked out nervously, catching on his lower lip and staying there.

 

Alastor watched, fascinated, as the king's face scrunched up in a way that was—undeniably—cute. The way his face wrinkled slightly, how he glanced away, the embarrassed little twitch of his fingers still wrapped around Alastor’s cock. It was... disarming. Unexpected. The Radio Demon had never considered Lucifer cute before.

 

"But... just try it?" Lucifer's voice cracked, his fingers tightening around Alastor's cock with nervous energy. "I'll tell you if it's bad." His knees shifted wider, presenting himself shamelessly—golden flush creeping down his chest as he waited.

 

"Don't we need some kind of lubr-" Alastor began, only for Lucifer to snap his fingers mid-sentence. A small bottle appeared on the nightstand with a faint *pop*. The cap was already off.

 

Alastor stared at it. Then at Lucifer's expectant expression. Then back at the bottle.

 

The bottle glistened innocently on the nightstand, its contents faintly viscous under Heaven's lighting. Alastor exhaled through his nose before reaching over to snatch it up. His claws clicked against the plastic as he squeezed a generous dollop onto his fingers.

 

His claws retracted as he reached down, tracing the cleft of Lucifer's ass with tentative curiosity. The king shuddered, his lips parting around a shaky exhale—but he didn't pull away. Instead, he ducked his head back down, taking Alastor into his mouth again with renewed enthusiasm, as if to distract them both.

 

The demon's fingers pressed inward, finding Lucifer's entrance with unexpected ease. The tight heat around his fingertip made Alastor’s breath hitch.

 

Lucifer’s fingers tightened around the base of Alastor’s shaft, his tongue dragging a slow, wet stripe upward as if to punctuate the moment. "Fuck," Alastor muttered, interference bleeding into the word, and Lucifer grinned around him before taking him deeper.

 

The first finger slid in to the knuckle with surprising ease, and Lucifer’s thighs trembled—not from discomfort, but from the sheer attention of it. His mouth worked faster, slurping loudly, messy with spit and precum, as if trying to drown out the slick sounds behind him.

 

Alastor watched, fascinated, as Lucifer’s spine arched slightly—his hips pushing back against the intrusion even as his throat relaxed around Alastor’s cock. The demon crooked his finger experimentally, and Lucifer made a muffled noise around him, his nails digging into Alastor’s thighs.

 

Since the man was so loose, Alastor added another finger without hesitation, scissoring them to stretch Lucifer further. The moan he let out around Alastor’s cock was muffled, but the vibrations were unmistakable—a feedback loop of pleasure that made Alastor’s breath stutter, his fingers curling deeper just to feel and hear it again. The smaller’s hips jerked forward, then back, fucking himself on Alastor’s fingers while simultaneously taking him deeper down his throat.

 

Lucifer pulled off, panting. "Nnmm.. see? You're not that bad at this," he mumbled, golden blush darkening as he glanced over his shoulder, where Alastor's fingers were buried inside him. His throat clicked around a swallow, voice dropping to a whisper. "Could- mmh- could use another finger though."

 

A moment later, a third finger slid in alongside the others—slow at first, then deeper, twisting slightly to accommodate the stretch. The noise Lucifer made was muffled now that his lips were occupied again, but the way his back arched spoke volumes.

 

The Radio Demon had never been so present in his own skin before—every nerve alight with the unfamiliar sensation of being touched, all while touching another in ways he'd never bothered to consider. Ironic, really, that the first time he'd ever bothered to pay attention to another's pleasure, it would be a person of higher status than himself.

 

Nothing about this felt real—not the wet heat around sensitive flesh, not the tight clench of muscle yielding to his fingers, not the way his own hips twitched forward without permission. This.. is a dream, right? I must have fell asleep with Lucifer and this is all just a fevered nightmare.

 

Alastor blinked down at the blond man working between his thighs, the sight so surreal it made his ears twitch. This had to be a hallucination, then. A particularly vivid, filthy hallucination brought on by sleep deprivation or poisoned cake pops. Tempting as it was to entertain the idea that this was reality—that Lucifer Morningstar, King of Hell, was currently taking him apart with his mouth—Alastor knew better. The universe didn’t hand out miracles like this. Not to a man like Alastor.

 

A man that spent his human and after life killing others, torturing souls, spreading fear—that man didn't get moments like this. Not unless they were traps. Not unless they were tricks. Not unless they were lies. Alastor's grin twitched, his fingers stilling inside Lucifer as he studied the top of the king's head.

 

Lucifer pulled off again when the demon didn't move his fingers, his lips swollen and slick. "Alastor?" His voice was rough around the edges, breath hitching when the fingers inside him flexed unconsciously. "You okay up there, Bambi?"

 

Alastor blinked slowly, letting his gaze meet Lucifer's. "...What?"

 

Holy shit he looks out of it... Lucifer thought, studying Alastor's dilated pupils and the faintest tremble in his fingers. The Radio Demon's grin remained frozen in place, but his eyes held a dazed quality Lucifer had never seen before. Like a deer—ironically—caught in headlights. Or a man who'd just realized the ground wasn't solid anymore.

 

Lucifer swallowed thickly, watching for the first time as Alastor looked genuinely lost—like he had been teleported into someone else’s skin and didn’t know how to operate it. His grin was still there, plastered on like always, but his breathing was uneven, his eye blown wide. Did... did I break him? Lucifer wondered, his own pulse stuttering at the thought.

 

Slowly, he pulled off completely, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The sudden absence of warmth made Alastor twitch, his fingers pulling out. Lucifer shifted back, straddling Alastor’s thighs now instead of kneeling between them, and reached up—hesitant—to tap the demon’s cheekbone with two fingers. "You’re spacing out," he murmured, gold blush darkening as his fingers lingered. "Did I... fuck something up? I made sure not to use teeth."

 

Lucifer’s brow furrowed when Alastor didn’t respond. He leaned closer, his breath warm against the demon’s jaw. "Hey," he tried again, voice softer now, almost uncertain. "We can stop if you want."

 

The Radio Demon blinked once. Twice. His grin twitched at the corners. "I-" The word glitched, syllables distorting into white noise. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Are you... really.. real?"

 

This time Lucifer blinked. "Huh? The fuck kinda question is that?" But then Lucifer seemed to understand. "Oh. Ohhh." His grin turned unbearably smug as he straddled Alastor's thighs, pressing closer until their chests nearly touched. "Is it so good you think you're dreaming?" His forked tongue flicked out, not coming back in to make his face more cute. "Do you need me to pinch you?"

 

The blond did it anyway—pinching Alastor's cheek sharply between thumb and forefinger. The demon's ear flicked, and he flinched, eyes narrowing. Lucifer grinned wider. "You're just so bad at processing pleasure, huh?" His voice was teasing, but there was something softer beneath it. "Yeah, Bambi. I'm real."

 

Alastor exhaled through his nose, now out of whatever trance he was in. "Pinch me again," he murmured, static lacing his words, "and I'll bite that insolent tongue of yours off at the root."

 

Lucifer laughed softly. "That's kinky..." He laughed a little more before it settled into a hum. "Mm.. okay, now hurry up.. I'm gaping.." The man knew he told Alastor to hurry up, but he himself did most of the work—lining up the cockhead with his entrance without hesitation.

 

The first press was experimental—just the swollen tip nudging against tight muscle, smearing slick and precum in a slow circle. Lucifer exhaled sharply, his thighs tensing as he rocked forward slightly, then back—testing the stretch. "If you think my mouth is good..." he murmured, breath hitching when the head caught briefly on his rim, "wait till you feel this."

 

Alastor's claws dug into Lucifer's hips as the head breached the rim, his breath stuttering into radio static. "Fuck," he hissed, ears flattening against his skull when Lucifer's thighs trembled around him. The king arched backward, his hooves scraping against the sheets as he took another inch with a slow roll of his hips.

 

Lucifer's laugh came out breathy and uneven. "Ohhh fuck-" His fingers scrabbled against Alastor's shoulder, nails leaving faint red marks. "That's- shit-" He rocked back further, taking another inch with a slow grind that made his thighs shake. The stretch burned in the best way, and it exactly what he'd been craving.

 

Lucifer made a noise Alastor had never heard before. He couldn't describe it—halfway between a whine and a laugh.. or something like that—but was it ever addicting to listen to. His ears perked up just to hear it again. But the king didn't make it again—his lips were parted around uneven breaths, his thighs trembling against Alastor's hips as he sank lower.

 

Alastor wasn't sure what expression he was making. His grin felt frozen in place and his eyes too wide—something unfamiliar twisted low in his gut as Lucifer sank down. The same kind of twisting he felt when the angel's mouth was on him, but worse, more intense.

 

Lucifer paused when he was halfway seated, his thighs shaking from the stretch. His golden flush darkened as he panted, fingers flexing against Alastor’s shoulders. "Fuck," he breathed, his voice cracking. "Mmm- it's been a while since I-.. ugh," Lucifer looked up at Alastor. "Umm... Al?" Alastor was already looking at him. "Could you- uh- help?"

 

The mentioned man tilted his head, clearly wanting Lucifer to be more specific. "With what?"

 

Lucifer’s fingers flexed against Alastor’s shoulders, his gold-flushed chest rising and falling unevenly. "Uh- just- push a little? Or- no, wait-" His hips twitched forward, then back, as if testing the angle himself, but the movement only made his thighs tremble harder. "I think I'm on the thickest part here and my body is not- fuck- cooperating." The exhale he took was shaky. "Or maybe- nngh- just hold me? No, that's stupid-" Lucifer glanced away. "Ok, so just push me down by my hips- or waist or whatever, okay? Force me down no matter what kind of noises I make because I will bitch about it but I swear I won't actually hate it-"

 

Alastor took a second to look Lucifer up and down, how his member twitched against his stomach, how his blush deepened under attention, how his thighs trembled with anticipation rather than fear. "Are you... sure?"

 

Fingers dug into Alastor’s shoulders. "Yes. Do it before I start bitching about you stalling. I'll be loud but- that's normal for me. Just move."

 

Alastor exhaled slowly—then gripped Lucifer’s hips and pushed toward his hips.

 

"Ah! Fuck- that's- mmm!- That hurts, you asshole!" Lucifer's voice cracked as Alastor pushed him down another inch, his thighs shaking violently as his body tried to adjust to the intrusion.

 

Alastor only pressed him down further, gripping harder because the man was fighting him. The fact that it was overwhelmingly tight also played a role. Lucifer's thighs were shaking violently—he was pushing back with his hands against Alastor's shoulders, hissing and whining as he was stretched further open. "Mmhh! Stars- slow the fuck down, you- ah! you stupid-" His voice cracked into a high-pitched whine as his hips finally gave way, Alastor's grip was only pulling him down, so gravity dropped him fully onto Alastor’s lap.

 

Lucifer went rigid, his mouth falling open in a soundless gasp. His fingers dug into Alastor’s shoulders hard enough to bruise, his entire body trembling from the sudden fullness. "Fuck," he choked out, his voice strangled. His thighs twitched weakly against Alastor’s hips, his breath coming in short, uneven pants. "Ohhhh fuck that's- that's-" He swallowed thickly, his blush darkening as he shifted slightly—just an experimental roll of his hips—and immediately whimpered at the sensation.

 

Meanwhile, Alastor was equally effected—his smile twitching as Lucifer clenched around him. He fought the urge to buck up into that unbearable heat. "Well?" he managed, very heavily strained. "Going to-.. mm- complain some more?"

 

Lucifer’s answering whine was muffled against Alastor’s shoulder, his forehead pressing there as he shuddered. "Go away," he muttered, but his fingers tightened in Alastor’s shirt, holding him closer. His hips twitched, only testing, and the sharp inhale that followed was loud in the quiet room. "Ugh.." Lucifer looked down at his stomach—eyes widening slightly—then pressed a hand flat against his own abdomen, fingers splaying. "Huh," he breathed, voice thick.

 

Alastor felt a tighter sensation where Lucifer was pressing down on his abdomen, and when he glanced down, he found out why. Lucifer's stomach bulged slightly—just enough to see the outline of his own cock pressing outward against the soft flesh. The sight sent a rush of dopamine straight to his brain, his grin sharpening as Lucifer traced the shape with trembling fingers.

 

Lucifer’s fingers pressed harder against the slight bulge, his breath hitching. "Fuck," he whispered, voice wavering. "Aren't you.. gonna move?"

 

Alastor’s gaze flicked back up to Lucifer's face. "Can I?"

 

"Do you want me to move?" Lucifer rasped, his fingers still pressing into the faint bulge in his abdomen, his golden blush spreading down his chest. "Or are you finally asking permission like the gentleman you aren't?"

 

Alastor's grin twitched, his claws digging deeper into Lucifer's hips. "Which answer gets you to shut up faster?"

 

Lucifer's answering smirk was all challenge. "Neither. You'll just have to- mm- guess," he gasped as Alastor rolled his hips upward without warning.

 

Lucifer's entire body seized as Alastor rocked up into him, his fingers scrambling against the demon's shoulders. The sudden drag of friction against his sensitive walls wrenched a moan from his lips—high-pitched and embarrassingly loud in the quiet room. His hips jerked instinctively, chasing the sensation, and Alastor's claws tightened around his waist, dragging him down harder.

 

Lucifer's back arched sharply as Alastor pulled him down again. The demon felt his own breath hitch—not from any physiological need for air, but from the sheer novelty of sensation. Warmth coiled low in his gut as Lucifer's body yielded around him with every thrust, and he didn't know what to do with it or what it was.

 

The noises were... excessive. Not hard on the ears—just a lot. High-pitched whines, breathy curses, the occasional sound of skin—all underscored by the creak of the bedframe beneath them. Alastor then heard that same addicting noise from earlier—that odd laugh-whine hybrid—when he bottomed out again, burying himself deeper than intended.

 

Lucifer was heaving too, his thighs shaking against Alastor’s hips as he fought to keep himself upright. His fingers dug into the demon’s shoulders, and claws had also come out at some point—red-tipped and scraping against fabric.

 

"Mmmhh... fuckkk- you really are big," Lucifer gasped, his fingers tightening in Alastor's shirt as he rocked back—testing, adjusting. His hips stuttered when Alastor shifted beneath him, meeting the movement with a sharp upward thrust.

 

Lucifer's knees slid wider on the mattress, his hooves scrabbling for purchase as he leaned back—hands braced behind him on Alastor’s thighs—to watch the way his stomach dipped with each shallow roll of their hips. Tension coiled visibly in his abdomen, his cock twitching against his belly. "Fuck- look," he breathed, fingers pressing into the faint bulge again. His grin was dazed, almost drunk on the sensation.

 

Alastor’s gaze flicked downward—just once—before his hands clamped around Lucifer’s waist, flipping him onto his stomach with a sharp twist of momentum. The angel yelped, legs scrambling for stability before Alastor caught them by the ankles, dragging him closer until his ass hit the demon’s thighs.

 

Lucifer's palms hit the mattress with a muffled *thump*, his breath catching as Alastor's grip tightened around his hips. Then he was pulled back—slow at first, dragging until only the tip remained—before being slammed forward with enough force to make the headboard rattle.

 

The angle shifted everything—Alastor’s cock driving deeper as if he wanted to carve himself into Lucifer’s bones. One particularly sharp roll sent Lucifer’s forehead dropping to the mattress, his shoulders shaking as he gasped wetly into the sheets.

 

The rhythm of their movements made Lucifer's body float somewhere between pleasure and overstimulation. His nervous system had long since surrendered to the onslaught—every drag of flesh against flesh sending jolts up his spine. It didn't help that Alastor's grip on his hips was bruising, fingers pressing into the soft dip of his waist with possessive intensity.

 

Lucifer's laugh came out breathless and uneven, utterly drunk on pleasure as he arched beneath Alastor's hands. "Ohhh fuckk- mmh- good-" The man moaned, eyes opening and closing, like he was unsure if he wanted to see or just feel.

 

Sheets clung and bunched around Lucifer’s legs as Alastor dragged him backward by the hips. The man above was clearly not one for gentle persistence—his thrusts were sharp and rough every time—and Lucifer grinned at the rough treatment, digging his fingers into the mattress to push back against each one.

 

"Am I hitting the spot?" Alastor breathed, static slightly distorting the words.

 

"Mmhmm!-" The blond nodded from where he was bent over, though he was sure Alastor didn't need or even see the confirmation—not when his body clenched so tight it made his own vision blur. "It's soo good- hah-"

 

"Mm.. good," The demon panted above him, the faintest hint of static warping his words as he pressed Lucifer’s hips flush against his own, grinding down for a moment just to feel him clench tighter.

 

Another moan crept past Lucifer’s lips as Alastor’s grip shifted—one hand sliding from his hip to curl around his neglected cock. The sudden touch startled a gasp out of him, his entire body jerking at the dual stimulation. "Fuck- wait, wait-" His fingers wanted to reach out to stop him, but instead tightened the grip he had on the sheets.

 

Alastor’s fingers only wrapped tighter around Lucifer’s length at the weak protest, stroking in time with his hips.

 

"Nhh- I'm- seriously-... ah- gonna cum," Lucifer managed between gasps, his thighs trembling as Alastor continued the dual assault. The king's fingers twisted in the sheets, his back arching as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter, at a much faster rate now. "Alastor- please-"

 

Alastor's fingers tightened around Lucifer's cock in response to the plea. "Then why not cum?" His voice was breathless yet teasing, twisting his wrist just so on the upstroke—which he noticed made Lucifer's thighs shake hardest.

 

Lucifer’s entire body was tight with restraint. "Because- fuck- because 'm gonna be more sensitive after," he gasped, twisting his hips away—but Alastor’s grip on his waist kept him pinned, his strokes relentless. "Just- mmh- just lemme adjust first-... wait- ohhh fuck-"

 

Too late. Lucifer arched sharply as pleasure crested—his cock pulsing in Alastor’s grip, his body clenching tight around the demon’s length. The overstimulation hit instantly, every aftershock sparking through his nerves. "Ah! Fuck- I told you!" His voice cracked halfway through, equal parts pleasure and indignation, as Alastor didn't slow down.

 

Lucifer's body tried it's best to stop the sensation, his legs trying to close and his hands reaching back to push Alastor away—but none of it worked. His fingers clawed at the man skin weakly, his legs only trembling more when Alastor pinned him down harder. Thankfully Alastor pulled his hand back from Lucifer's cock, but kept his hips moving—no doubt chasing his own end.

 

"Mmh!- A-are you at least close?" Lucifer gasped, his fingers flexing against Alastor's forearm where it pinned him down.

 

"Not really, but..." Alastor's grin widened at Lucifer's answering groan. "You did tell me to ignore your complaints."

 

Lucifer's fingers twisted in the sheets, his entire body flinching at the continued stimulation. "I only meant that when you were putting it in- ah!- not now when I'm- fuck-.. when I came and- mmh- and I'm overstimulated!" His voice cracked embarrassingly high as Alastor dragged him back onto his cock with another rough thrust.

 

"You're the King of Hell, aren't you?" Alastor’s voice dropped, the radio static thick. He leaned down slightly, pushing the other man further into the bed. "Surely you can endure a few more minutes of your own medicine.”

 

But Lucifer didn't know if he could. It had been a while since anyone—including himself—had made his body feel this way. And after just one orgasm?.. No... Alastor is right-.. I-... can take more... He told himself, as his fingers tightened around the sheets, biting his lower lip to keep another embarrassing noise from escaping.

 

And so, because of Lucifer's pride—both the sin and the stubbornness—he did take more. His body arched and pushed back into every new thrust, his jaw clenched tight to keep from whimpering too loudly. "Mmm~ Hah- i-it's soo good-..." The angel mumbled, his hands gripping the sheets tighter. "Mhh- more- nngh- please-.."

 

His permanent grin felt strained, his jaw aching slightly from the sheer force of the pleasure roaring through his core. But he obliged anyway. Lucifer's body arched further when Alastor's claws traced upward—past his waist, skimming ribs—before brushing against his peaked nipples.

 

The king shuddered at the touch, clearly he was not anticipating his nipples being a point of interest. Alastor's fingers circled them lazily—first just ghosting over the flushed peaks, then pinching lightly, watching how Lucifer's lips parted around a sharp inhale. His thumb rolled over one nipple while his other hand drifted lower, tracing the dip of Lucifer's belly before wrapping around his still-sensitive penis.

 

​Meanwhile the heat inside the fallen angel was dizzying. Alastor could feel every tiny, spasming pulse of Lucifer’s internal muscles clinging to him like thousands of desperate mouths. It was an entirely foreign sensation, this violent, overwhelming urge to just keep going, to drive himself deeper until there was nothing left between them but friction and noise.

 

Lucifer's claws unleashed as Alastor began stroking him—red-tipped fingers managing to rip the soft fabric under him. To make things worse—Lucifer was hard again, leaking profusely, his stomach muscles tensing visibly as he struggled against the dual assault.

 

Now that Alastor’s fingers had found a rhythm—alternating between teasing Lucifer’s nipples and stroking his cock—the king’s vocalizations went from breathy gasps and muffled whines to something decidedly louder. Which only encouraged Alastor to push further. Quite literally.

 

His hips pushed somehow harder—aimed more downward now, angling to chase the shuddering clench of Lucifer's body as the man's previous squirming had caused the angle to shift. The result was immediate—Lucifer's back relaxed momentarily before arching further than before, his fingers twisting tighter in the sheets.

 

"Ah! Fuck- right there-" The words melted into a moan as Alastor repeated the motion deliberately, grinding deep for a moment before pulling back just to snap his hips forward again.

 

Far from being gentle about it, he hooked an arm around Lucifer's waist to haul him backward onto each thrust—ensuring he couldn't escape the punishing angle. Now his chest was being pushed into the other's back, his grin pressing against the nape of Lucifer's neck as his other hand tightened around Lucifer's length. "Keep tightening like that," Alastor murmured, static warping his voice into something deeper, rougher, "and I might actually finish inside you."

 

Lucifer's breath hitched—because that was the goal the entire time, right? To feel Alastor lose control, to unravel him just as thoroughly as he'd been unraveled. But maybe... also he could feel a creampie. That would be... nice.

 

He fought the urge to beg outright. Fuck, fuck- just fill me already, he wanted to snarl, but pride—both the sin and the stubbornness—clamped his teeth together. That is... until Alastor started kissing and nipping his neck. He mumbled out; "Hah- creampie me already-.."

 

The other's rhythm stuttered when Lucifer slurred out his request. "A what now?"

 

Lucifer groaned, pressing his forehead into the sheets. His hips jerked back against Alastor’s thrusts, his words slurring with overstimulation. "A-ah!- creampie, you fucking- mmph!- neophyte. Cum inside me."

 

"Whyever would I do that?" The genuine confusion in his voice was almost laughable—if Lucifer weren’t currently being split open on his cock.

 

Lucifer twisted his head to glare over his shoulder. "What the hell do you mean 'why'?" He groaned once more. "I know you don't fuck but-.. ah- you don't know basic breeding kinks? It just- it'll feel good!"

 

Alastor's grin twitched as his fingers tightened around Lucifer's cock—stroking firmly just to hear him gasp. "Breeding? My dear, you can't possibly be implying that you can-"

 

"Not literally, you ass," Lucifer hissed. "Just finish inside! I'll kill you if you pull out, deer boy!" His hips jerked back to emphasize the demand, his body clenching around Alastor instinctively—as if to physically trap him there.

 

Alastor's laughter was breathless and more interference than sound. His grip tightened around Lucifer's penis, roughly stroking the shaft as he drove deeper, hips snapping forward with renewed force. "If you insist," he purred—though his voice glitched halfway through the word.

 

Lucifer groaned into the mattress, his thighs shaking as Alastor fucked him harder. The angle was still hitting the sweet spot—each thrust making his vision blur—but now with the added promise of being filled.

 

And filled he was. Alastor let out a pleasured noise—one that Lucifer had never heard from him before—as his hips stuttered, pressing flush against Lucifer’s ass as he came. The king gasped at the sensation. Oh wow... that's a lot.. Another wave spilled inside him. A lot a lot... Another. Holy... lucky me..? Another. WHAT THE FUCK—HOW?! Lucifer groaned as his belly felt heavier with each pulse—already full from earlier stretches.

 

Lucifer didn't even realize he was cumming as a result of how much Alastor was filling him—until his vision whited out and his body seized, a strangled moan tearing from his throat as he spilled over Alastor's fist. The overstimulation hit harder this time, sparks of pleasure-pain racing up his spine as his cock twitched violently through the aftershocks. He couldn't stop the high-pitched whimper that escaped when Alastor kept stroking him lazily through the last pulses, milking him dry until his thighs trembled.

 

"Holy fuck- were you saving that up for me?!" Lucifer gasped, still trembling from overstimulation as Alastor's softening cock finally slipped out of him, followed by a hot rush of cum that made his thighs twitch. The wet sound was loud in the quiet room—Lucifer's cheeks burning gold at the realization that he'd just been thoroughly filled.

 

Alastor's grin was lazy, satisfied as he leaned back on his elbows, watching the white liquid spill down Lucifer's thighs. "Enough to get you pregnant?" he teased, voice still crackling faintly with static.

 

Lucifer scoffed, though his golden blush deepened. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Bambi." He shifted slightly, wincing at the slick sensation between his legs. "Christ, I feel like a fucking cream-filled pastry."

 

The comparison startled a genuine laugh out of Alastor. He felt lightheaded and loose-limbed—a sensation so foreign that his own grin threatened to turn into a frown. Lucifer turned his head just in time to catch it, raising an eyebrow as he flopped gracelessly onto his side. "What?" he muttered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Is this your first time creampieing someone?"

 

Alastor's ears twitched.

 

"Feel good, doesn't it?" The blond wiggled his eyebrows, his grin lopsided and drunk on post-coital haze. Golden blush still dusted his cheeks, fading slower now that the adrenaline was ebbing.

 

Alastor looked away. "It... wasn't unpleasant," he said, which was the understatement of the century. Alastor hadn't expected the sensation of release while buried inside someone to feel so... intimate.

 

"Yeah? You saying you're gonna pull out next time?" Lucifer muttered, watching Alastor's expression flicker with something unreadable.

 

The demon didn't care about that 'next time' promise. His mind was filling up pictures and sensations where he wasn't buried deep inside Lucifer while having his orgasm, to not have the heat and clenching muscles sucking him dry—it was absurd now.

 

"Fuck. We just had sex in heaven." Lucifer suddenly said, staring at the ceiling with a slack jaw and glassy eyes. "And we have to go back to the party."

 

The party. Right. Charlie's pride event was still happening—had been happening this entire time—while they'd been... occupied.

 

"Ugh! You idiot! My shirt buttons are broken!" Lucifer hissed, tugging at the discarded shirt. Several buttons were missing where Alastor has ripped them off in his haste.

 

Alastor grinned unrepentantly, adjusting his own coat. "Buttons are replaceable, Lucifer. Memories like these... priceless." His fingers lingered on his bow before reaching out to the angel. "Plus, you're the one who did that. Not me."

 

Lucifer snorted, swatting his hand away. "Spare me the sentimental bullshit—I can literally feel your cum dripping down my thigh." He shifted uncomfortably, wincing as a fresh trickle escaped. "Fuck. Did you have to come that much?" Lucifer mumbled, pressing a hand between his legs experimentally before pulling it back, he tested the thickness of it between tow fingers "Oh... it's thick too~" Lucifer's tone shifted to something more seductive, licking his fingers clean with a pleased hum.

 

Alastor's grin sharpened, watching the way Lucifer's forked tongue curled around his fingers. "You're the one who demanded I finish inside," he said mildly. "No takebacks."

 

Lucifer rolled his eyes, stretching lazily before flopping onto his back with a groan. "Yeah, yeah.." He rubbed a hand over his slightly distended stomach, pressing down curiously before hissing. "Ugh, I'm gonna feel this tomorrow." The gold in his cheeks darkened when Alastor's gaze followed the motion, lingering. "What? Want another round already?"

 

Alastor's grin twitched. "Hardly." He tilted his head, studying the way Lucifer's fingers traced patterns over his own abdomen. "Just marveling at how... accommodating you were."

 

"Accommodating?" Lucifer snorted, kicking at Alastor's thigh with his hoof. "I'd like to see you try taking that monster without complaining." He shifted again, grimacing as more warmth seeped between his thighs. "Ugh- do you have napkins or something? Or am I supposed to waddle back to the party like a fucking-"

 

A towel smacked him square in the face.

 

Lucifer yelped, clawing it off to glare at Alastor, who was adjusting his bowtie with nonchalance. He must have gotten it from the bathroom as the door was open—how had Lucifer missed that earlier.. or was he that fast? The king wiped himself hastily, scowling at the dark stains left on the towel. "You could've just handed it to me like a normal person."

 

"Whatever. Don't come out too soon—people might we're more than enemies." Alastor grabbed his cane and headed for the door.

 

Lucifer blinked at the closing door, then burst out laughing—a bright, unguarded sound that startled even himself. He pressed a hand to his stomach, still tender from the abuse, and winced through his grin. "Fucking hell," he muttered to the empty room, "I just let Radio fucking Demon rail me into next week..."

 

A pause.

 

"Worth it~"

Notes:

I am not asexual so I apologize if I got something wrong!

Ty for reading!